by M. Mabie
“You’re almost funny,” I fired back and fought the urge to giggle.
I drank from the cold bottle and decided I couldn’t sit on the wet cushion another minute. Standing, I motioned for him to get up, too. Pulling the Velcro apart in the three places it was attached, I walked it to a small indoor clothesline on the other side of the porch by a washer and dryer. With a few clothespins pinched on it, I hung the wet seat to dry.
While I was up, he went inside and came back quickly with a few towels.
“Here,” he said, handing them to me so he could mess with a radio. I unfolded and laid them the width of the seat and sat. He joined me.
“So how is it being back in town?” I asked.
“Being back in town is about how I pictured it. Except for the rain, I wasn’t expecting that this summer.”
The record rain had been a literal dark cloud over the whole town, but everyone helped out and we’d get through it like always.
“Yeah, Wynne hasn’t changed much.”
He swallowed and countered, “Oh, I don’t know. It has and hasn’t. I was always coming back anyway. You know what it’s like.”
The muscles in his legs flexed as he moved us back and forth.
I agreed, “Yeah, I moved away for school, but I was always pretty sure I’d be right back here. I love the people. It’s my home.”
His shoulder bumped mine. “Exactly, if I really didn’t want to be here, then I’d be somewhere else.”
I picked at the label on my beer, enjoying the easy conversation. “Where would you be, if not here?” I’d only been as far as a few hours away from our small town my whole life.
As he thought, he took a few drinks. “Maybe Hawaii or some little town near San Diego. Those places are nice, places I’d go back to.”
“I’ve never been anywhere like that,” I admitted.
“No? I like traveling.”
“When we were kids we’d go up to the lake for a few days or a week, but Dad was the only one in his office, so we couldn’t really go too far. We had a lot of fun, though. Both sets of my grandparents used to go, and sometimes I’d bring a friend with me,” I explained.
“We took a few vacations when we were younger. We went to Jamaica once when I was a senior in high school. It’s hard to plan stuff like that with the weather and the farm. Tough to plan ahead. I traveled a lot with running, though.”
“Running track?” How did I not know he was a runner? And a traveling runner?
“Yeah. I was good in high school and got a sports scholarship, then ran in college. I still compete. I couldn’t run for school last year—I’d stayed another semester after graduation to take a few extra classes—but I run marathons. My last half I got second in my age, which is pretty good.”
“Hell, I can barely jog. Sometimes I take Andy on a long walk and even that wears me out. I can’t imagine running in a race.” I was feeling winded just talking about it.
“It’s not that bad. It’s more about endurance than speed. At least, for me.”
I heard a growl in the gutter at the back of my mind when he mentioned endurance. Something about going all night strutted by and I rolled my eyes at myself and drank my beer in blessed silence as it passed without coming out of my mouth.
If I had to take a drink to keep from saying things like that around him, I’d surely get myself into a Betty Ford situation.
We talked about places we’d been, but mostly him. It was alarming how untraveled I was in comparison. I had to seem like some old maid who was just chilling in Wynne because she didn’t know how to leave.
That wasn’t it at all, but it didn’t look good.
After my third beer, I said, “What time is it? You’re not even drinking anymore and I should probably go home.”
He looked at his phone and answered, “Pretty late. I’ll take you back,” he said and stood, causing the swing to pitch and sway. He steadied the chain on my side with one long reach of his arm above my head.
I stood and wanted to kiss him, and it had nothing to do with the wanton black cat in my mind. It had everything to do with the way his shirt was bunched on one side of his belt, and how the tongue of his boot sat just outside the hem of his jean leg. The way, every once in a while, he’d readjust his hat, and I’d get a waft of his clean hair. The way he seemed like someone I was meeting for the first time, yet kind of like a person I already knew.
Also, but probably most notably, the way I could imagine what his lips felt like on mine without even touching them. The way I could predict the way he’d sound moaning into my mouth, and the way I desperately wanted him to be the one to kiss me.
It seemed like it took no time at all from my driveway to hers. It was nearly three thirty in the morning, and I’d be dragging ass the next day, but it had been worth it.
Not because it was Sunny Wilbanks, but because she was funny and silly and easy to talk to and those things made her more beautiful than any faded memory I had of her.
I wasn’t sure what was going on. Some part of me thought that maybe it was a pity thing for how everyone ragged on my juvenile behavior all those years ago. I couldn’t deny that, for whatever her sudden interest was in me, I liked it.
I really liked that she still climbed into my truck from the driver’s side and sat next to me on the way to her house, even after she’d confessed that it was dry on the passenger side.
If she was doing all of those things because she wanted to, then maybe I should do a few things that I wanted to. Like kiss her.
There were a few moments that felt like a good time, but when you’ve been rejected by one girl that many times … it takes a minute to adjust to the change of heart. The odds of her actually being interested in me were not that great.
Still, there she was, on my right side as we pulled back into her drive.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked quietly when I came to a stop behind her car. Again, it stunned me. She’d done that on many occasions throughout the night. Hell, over the past week.
It took me a minute to get away from the shock of hearing her say something like that before I remembered what I had to do and answered. “We’re working on the levee all day again,” I said as I pulled the door handle to get out. When my feet were on the ground, I gave her a hand, and like we’d practiced the move more than once, she took it and hopped right out next to me.
“Oh, that’s right. You better get to bed then. The sun will be up in a few hours.”
I was well aware.
“I’ll be fine.” I’d skip my run and sleep in a little.
She stood there looking up at me, then stepped away an arm’s length, which was good for both of us. I was dangerously close to pinning her up against the side of the truck bed, and the added space helped me dial it in. My chest pounded, knowing this was the drop off portion of the night when normally a guy would kiss a woman he was interested in.
Call me crazy for having fantasized of that moment for so many years, then holding back when I finally got it. But, if she wanted to kiss me, then she knew where to get it.
However, I wanted her to know I was interested, so I said, “I’d like to hang out with you again.”
She smiled a little too quickly to be nonchalant, but I loved it.
“You have my number,” Sunny reminded me and walked backwards a few steps. Holding her sweatshirt and phone in one hand, she pulled her keys from her pocket.
Then, I saw something that took me back to that boy I was and I straightened. Stunned.
“Good night, Sunny,” I said and stepped into the cab of my truck, hearing her say good night before she walked the rest of the way to her door.
As I drove, I thought.
“What is this?” she asked me, leaning down just a little. Then she yelled behind her, “Just a second. I’ll be right there,” to her friends who were waiting down the hall after school. They always rode around town for a while when classes were over. I’d ride my bike to the park with Lance and w
atch them go by.
I cleared my throat to make my voice sound as deep as I could. “It’s just a little something I saw for you. It’s no big deal.”
She held the small box in her palm and readjusted her backpack so she could use both hands to open it. Her smile was thank you enough, but I wanted to stick around and see if she liked it.
She handed me the box after emptying it into her hand, and passed the cardboard back to me to hold while she took the paper around it off.
“Rhett, this is really cool,” she said, looking at the keychain I’d bought her. It was a sun that had a button in the middle. When you pushed it tiny white and yellow lights lit up.
I pressed the button for her.
“It’s a sunshine key chain because you’re my sunshine.” I’d had something much cooler thought out to say but kind of choked when it came down to it.
“Thank you. I love it.” She bent down and I leaned up, hoping this was the moment she was finally going to let me kiss her. Or kiss me.
It was finally happening. I knew she’d like the keychain the second I saw it.
She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and gave me a side hug. In the moment, I kissed her shoulder.
Like a moron.
I kissed her shoulder.
I prayed she didn’t notice.
If she had, she didn’t say anything.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said as she pulled away. She shifted her bag again and looked behind her where her friends were still waiting and watching. “I’ve gotta go, but this is so nice.” She stepped backward down the linoleum hall.
I didn’t know what else to say, but as she turned to walk out the door, I noticed she already had her keys out, stringing them together with it.
She hugged me. Okay, half-hugged me. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was something.
Not only did Sunny still have that old sunburst keychain with the flashing white and yellow lights, but she still used it.
I lay in bed, knowing that I needed to go to sleep, but my mind was working overtime. Adding things up. I was almost trying to prove all of the signals she was giving me were like the ones I’d chosen to see when I was a kid. When it came to her, I’d always misinterpreted what she really meant.
What I meant to her.
I wasn’t about to stop what was happening, but I was going to step with caution.
She was dynamite back then, but she was damn near perfect now. Maybe because I was older, but I noticed different things about her than I used to. The way her collarbone stuck out just enough that I wanted to lick it. The way she was the perfect size to pick up and carry to the nearest wall to kiss her breathless. How it almost felt like she was waiting for me to do those things.
As a boy, I’d jumped the gun so many times. As a man—as a runner—I’d trained myself not to. Not even with the few girls in my past, through high school and college … I’d always let them come to me.
Was that because of her? Maybe.
Regardless, none of my behavior was her fault. She’d never been mean or cruel. Sometimes she probably should have.
I lay on my side and looked out the window, thinking about how different it was to be with her, like we were finally equals. How all of those same old feelings grew in the same familiar spots, just like the crops in the field outside. I wondered if I tended to whatever it was between us if it would grow and thrive like my ground. If I gave it consistent attention when it needed it, and took a step back when the timing wasn’t right, if she—like the land—would do the rest.
I flipped on the radio next to my bed and drifted off.
Morning came early, but I wasn’t dragging that much. While the eggs fried on the stove, I watched the sun top the trees to the east and it lit the haze over acres of short, but thankfully growing, corn behind the cabin.
I sipped coffee and ate, thinking about the day’s work.
I hadn’t slept as late as I’d expected, only getting a few hours and waking courtesy of my internal clock, even despite the late night. I didn’t have time for a run, but it gave me a little extra time to throw some clothes in the washer and put the few bags of trash I had into the back of my pickup so I could throw it in the dumpster at the farm.
If we got an early start, and had the help we were counting on, there was a really good chance of getting most of the levee covered. That would be one less thing to worry about, although we all knew if the river topped it, time was our biggest enemy. The levee would hold if the rain ebbed, but if the water had time and the river stayed swollen, it would wear away new weak spots. There’d be nothing we could do.
I counted more than half a dozen beers at the bottom of my cooler, and the ice was still good, so I added a few bottles of water and a couple Gatorades, then hauled it outside.
My phone read six o’clock. Folks would be showing up at the shed.
I walked to my bedroom and opened the sock drawer where I kept her note, the one with her phone number on it and programmed it into my phone before I forgot.
After all, she’d mentioned it the night before.
By the time I got to my truck with my refilled coffee mug, I’d talked myself out of sending her a text three times. It was too early. Yet, there I was, sitting in my truck while it ran with a new blank message.
My youthful history aside, I’d spent the night before with a beautiful woman, and if she were someone new—who I’d just met—and I wanted to see her again, etiquette would tempt me to send her a message. A good morning. Something.
That logic moved my fingers over the screen and typed.
ME: Hope you slept well. Let me know if you want to do something later.
I set the phone on my lap and pulled out of my drive, then slowed when I heard it chime a few seconds later.
SUNSHINE: If you’d get to work, we could have fun sooner than later. I’m at the levee shed with the rest of the town. Hurry up.
I hadn’t expected a message that quick—if at all. That woman was getting really good at surprising me.
I ran those back country roads about twice as fast as I had the morning before and cranked the radio the whole way.
Sometimes it’s foolish to ask why when good things are happening. Even at my age I knew that. Sunny was about a hundred good things and every minute she spent with me I found more of them, better ones than I’d been blinded by before.
Her smile was the first thing I saw when I pulled in. They’d already bagged up a truckload, and it was heading north up the levee with a few guys sitting on the tailgate.
I waved at them and hopped out. There had to be twenty-five people there. Before me.
I looked at my dad and he was grinning ear to ear. The day before we had plenty of help to get a good start. With this crew, we had enough to possibly finish early.
“Morning,” she said with a shovel in her hand. She was wearing lime green running shorts and a white tank top that read I’m Your Huckleberry. Her long blond hair was swept up in a knot high on her head and she had on white framed sunglasses.
Yet, she looked like a super model. Pin-up worthy.
I’d get to look at her all day. Talk about motivation.
“Good morning to you, too.” An image of me saying those words as she was curled around me, under my sheets, appeared to me about the time I heard my dad holler. Then her assembly line started back up, and I left her to it.
“Rhett,” he called again. I held up a hand to let him know I heard him and that I’d be right there. I walked back to my truck and found my gloves, then looked at her hands across the gravel lot and saw she didn’t have any on. If she planned on shoveling all day, she’d be in serious pain by evening.
My father met up with me as I tucked the leather into my back pocket and pulled out my phone.
“We got a lot of help today, son,” he contended. “A lot of good help.” He winked and nodded at Sunny.
“Not this early, Dad,” I warned and pressed send on my screen.
She answered right away.
“Good morning, honey. Are you already down at the levee shed?” my mom asked.
“Yeah, just got here.”
“Good, tell your dad I’m on my way. I just called up to the store and I’m bringing drinks, coffee and some doughnuts. Need anything?” She’d probably been thrown off by the amount of people there, too.
“Yeah, actually. Do you have an extra pair of leather gloves?”
“Honey, I think you’ll fit your dad’s better,” she said.
“No, for Sunny.”
She gasped. “Sunny Wilbanks is there helping?”
“Shoveling her ass off, Mom. Now do you have any gloves she can wear? She needs them.” Yes, I would have loved nothing more than to wax poetic about the miracle it was that Sunny was there, and from the sound of her voice and the look on my dad’s face, that’s surely what it was.
More importantly though, I didn’t want her to suffer, and I knew she would before long like she was.
“I’ll find her some and bring ‘em in a while.”
That wasn’t quite good enough. “Mom, please find them and just bring them first.” She might be an hour if she ran into the right person at the store. Coffee could wait. Sunny’s hands couldn’t.
I watched Sunny look at the spot between her thumb and index finger. She was already starting to feel it. She was shoveling heavy, wet sand into a bag sitting in a five gallon bucket.
I was relieved that I didn’t have to argue or leave to get them myself when Mom agreed. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, bye.” I hung up and shoved my dad’s shoulder out of the way. He was grinning like a fool. “Get to work, Dad.”
I slipped the leather over my hands as I marched over to Sunny and held my hand out for the shovel.
“What? I’m doing it,” she said, almost offended.
I didn’t want her confused by my actions. It looked chauvinistic, but that’s not what it was. “I know you can do it. Just hold the bag for me. Give your hands a rest for a minute.” Sunny didn’t argue and passed the wooden handle off. She flipped the bucket over and sat on it, grabbing the next bag and holding it wide open for me.
