by Mj Fields
“So …” she sighs out.
“Tell me what you’re wearing.”
“I’m wearing clothes.”
“Well, that’s a good thing.”
“Sure is, since I’m about to meet the big fair committee that all the pregnant Ross’s used to be a part of but were basically told by their men they needed to take the year off. So, Sarah, sweet, quiet Sarah, was strong-armed into it and is getting overloaded with tasks, so I’m going to tell all those old men to back off because she can’t.”
“What else happened today?” I ask.
“That’s it. Now tell me about yours.”
“I spent the day on the tractor, sweating my ass off.” And trying like hell to keep myself from running back to you.
“Oh boy.” She laughs. “You’re pretty proud of that thing; you better get a fan.”
And just like that, I’m laughing right along with her.
“How’s Rio?”
“Stoned.”
“Are you sure, with all the work you’re doing, she’ll be okay?”
I look down at the floor, where she’s sprawled out on a doggie bed, red-eyed and drooling. “Sweets, she’s looking like Snoop Dogg after hitting a bong for three days straight.”
“I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.” She laughs.
I sit up then slide off the cot and onto the floor next to her. “I’m sitting on the floor next to a dog bed that’s more comfortable than the cot, here in the studio Dad and I built in the barn.”
“Aw …” she coos.
“She’s got water, food—hell, Mom had treats for her when we arrived. Apparently, the three of us made the Blue Valley news.”
She laughs.
“Did you know?”
“Mom showed me.”
“You’re a star, Kendall Ross.”
“Pft, the dog and I look like drowned rats.”
“First, you don’t look like a drowned rat; you look like one of those sexy superheroes from the comic strips.”
“You find cartoon characters sexy?” She giggles.
“Wonder Woman was hot as hell when I was about ten. I’ve recently discovered Wet T-Shirt Woman.”
“Wet T-Shirt Woman, huh?”
“Never heard of her?”
“Not until like two seconds ago.”
“Well, she has special underwater skills and saves injured dogs from drowning.”
“That’s pretty awesome. I’d like to meet her.”
“Might be able to arrange something. But I’m gonna warn you, she also has some villainous traits.”
“Do tell.”
“She’s an erotic club dancer, who will steal your heart and you’ll never want to get it back.”
“Aside from the erotic club dancer part, she sounds pretty awesome. Should I be worried?”
After hanging up with Kendall, I decide to take a dip in the pond, which will kill two birds with one stone—cool me down and clean me up.
When I get there, Mom is sitting on the dock with her toes in the water and a glass of wine in her hand.
“You didn’t come in for dinner.”
“I’m not feeling all that hungry,” I say as I walk past her.
“Your father loves us, Ben.”
“He sure has one hell of a way of showing it.”
“Ben—”
“I’m here. I’m busting my ass. I left the band I’m working with, and I’m here instead of being with Kendall. But when I get all this bitch work done, I’m going back, and I want you to come with me.” I step to the edge of the dock.
“Ben—”
“No excuses, Mom. Jesus Christ, his arm isn’t even broken.” I kick off my shoes.
“Sprained,” she says with a muffled sob.
“Whatever. I’m done.”
“He’s sick, Ben.”
I have long surpassed the need to plug my nose for fear of drowning, but as the force of gravity takes me under, I can’t breathe, can’t scream, can’t cry, can’t fucking feel. I can’t do anything but be.
Beneath the surface of the cool, spring-fed water, where I’ve always come to relax, refresh, and rejuvenate after every win and every loss, I’m hit with the fact that, when I surface this time, life will never be the same.
Wrapped in the towel, holding my mom’s hand, I walk across the hardwood floors toward Dad’s office.
When Mom knocks softly on the door, he looks up from a pile of papers and looks from me to her. Then he shakes his head slowly back and forth. “Honey, no.”
“He’s hurting, and you’re hiding. I can’t let either of those things happen anymore, Frank.”
He slams his fist on the desk, then winces and hisses, “Fuck.” Then he hits it again, and again, and again.
Each slam of his fist feels like a punch to my gut, each knocking the wind out of me one burst at a time.
23
Meet In The Middle
Ben
“Plans for the weekend?” Kendall asks as I lie on the cot, still unable to bring myself to sleep in my room, in that house, out of anger and pain.
“Switching over equipment. The hay’s all done. Corn’s up next.”
She laughs.
“What?” I smile, enjoying her laughter more than she’ll ever know.
“I shouldn’t find that sexy.”
“Sweets”—I need you here—“I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Well, any chance you want to come over tomorrow night?”
Fuck yes. “I wish I could.”
“It’s probably for the best.”
“Why’s that?”
“Remember I told you about how the committee was kind of pushing Sarah around?”
I laugh. “You let the old white hairs get to you, too, huh?”
“Not exactly.”
“You drawling out exactly means that’s exactly what happened.”
“I’m such an idiot,” she groans out. “Old man Markle was in charge of entertainment.”
“What sort of entertainment?” I chuckle.
“Music.”
“You never trust an old white hair with musical entertainment unless he’s smoking a J.”
“Yeah, well, his nephews’ band was Saturday night’s entertainment, and they all just got busted for possession and unlawfully dealing with minors. So, I suggested Karaoke, and that would be fine if Tessa weren’t pregnant and—”
“You sing.”
“Oh no.” She laughs.
“A couple of beers in you, and you’ll be great.”
“A couple of beers in me, and I’ll be dancing.”
“You dance like you were in Dublin, and the whole town of Blue Valley will be …” I stop.
“Will be what?”
“Wanting to …” I can’t even say the fucking words.
“You still there?” she asks.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
“You do know the whole town knows I’m taken, right?”
“I guess I forgot that whole, small-town part.”
“Are you the jealous type, Ben?”
Never was, but I sure as fuck seem to be now, I think.
“I trust you.” But I’d still rip someone’s fucking head off if they put their hands on you.
“Good, because that’s important. Really, really important.” She sighs contently.
“Well, you’re really, really important to me.”
After several moments of quiet, she asks, “How’s Rio? Oh, and why did you name her Rio?”
“She’s good. Lazy as hell but good.” I reach down and pet her head. “And Rio after Dolores O’Riordan.”
“How is that after Dolores O’Riordan?”
“I considered Dolores, but that rhymes with clitoris and—”
She gasps, and I can vividly imagine her face turning pink.
“If you don’t know what that is, I’ll make sure to show you next time—”
“Back on task, Sawyer.”
“O’Riordan’s too lon
g; shortened it up and went with Rio. Should have consulted you first, but that was our first concert together, so Rio it is.”
“I love it.”
I love you.
“Thought you would.”
After another brief pause, she asks, “How’s your dad’s arm? How’s your mom?”
I close my eyes and lie back, trying to figure out how to skirt the issue.
“Ben?”
“I’ve been pretty busy.” Avoiding them and this issue, because inside, I’m fucking terrified. “Sleeping out here with Rio to make sure she’s okay.” And avoiding them further.
“You’re sleeping in the barn?”
I smile and look around. “Pretty damn nice out here, Kendall.”
“I would love to see it.”
Not anytime soon, I think.
“Yeah.”
After a long, awkward as fuck pause, she says, “Well, you sound pretty tired.”
“Sorry, sweets.”
And I am. I am so fucking sorry.
When I walk out to the shop, Rio decides to join me.
“Okay, girl, we have a lot of shit to do still, and a week to do it, so make sure you stick close. No wandering off, yeah?”
For the first time, she wags her tail.
“Bitches love me, Rio. I’m surprised it took you this long to get with the program.”
I sit down and give her a scratch behind the ears. “You really are something, you know. Fucking beautiful blue eyes, thick and sexy grayish black hair. You a husky or a shepherd. Alex thinks a mix.”
She licks my face.
“Some find that cute, and I know you’re too much a lady to do that licking your ass in front of me bit that so many other dogs do, Rio, but I know you do.” I stand up. “Or, at least you will when you’re healed up.”
When I look up, I see Dad inside the shop, lights on, and he’s staring at Bertha.
As much as I’ve avoided him, it’s because he’s been doing the same. And something I will never admit to him or anyone else is that I’m fucking terrified to know just how sick he is.
Rio walks into the shop before me and right up to him, nudging his hand with her nose. He pets her while shaking his head.
“What are you planning to do with this thing?” he asks.
Swallowing back emotion then clearing my throat, I answer, “I washed it, cleaned it, put a radio and CD player in it. Going to try to find a way to fix the seat.”
“Might be better just to replace it. I can give Junkyard Gene a call and see if he has a seat that fits it.”
“I can call him.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets and nods.
When I can’t take the silence anymore, I ask, “How bad is it?”
“It’s as old as that girl. Should be pushed over a cliff somewhere.”
“She likes it, but that’s not what I’m—”
“Let’s get the corn done, see about saving the soybeans, and then—”
“I deserve to know.”
He shakes his head. “Hand’s not broke; it’s sprained.”
“I’m not talking about your hand. Is it physical or psychological, Dad?”
He huffs, “One and the same at this point.”
“Da—”
“I know you hate this place, and I know you’d rather be anywhere but here, but right now—”
“Never said I hated this place, Dad, not ever. Just have my own dreams.”
He nods once.
“But I came when asked, and I’ll be here for as long as I’m needed.”
He walks past me and looks out of the open shop doors. “She loves this place. It’s just as much her as it is me.”
“I know how hard you’ve worked. I know how hard Mom has.”
“Tired right now. Gonna head in. I’ll call Gene in the morning.”
I’m not sure how much time passed from the time he left until now, but it’s dark.
“Gotta move, girl; gonna pull this seat out and don’t want it to end up on you.”
“Come here, Rio.”
I look behind me to see Mom with a plate covered in aluminum foil. “Not hungry.”
“Not asking, Ben. You need to eat. Pretty sure you’ve lost ten pounds in the four days you’ve been home.”
I tug on the seat, and it budges but barely. “Come on,” I grumble, yanking it harder.
When it comes free, it comes with a very unwelcome sound.
“Shit,” I snap and step back.
“Might as well pull it out and see what deeper issues you’re dealing with.” I hear her set the plate down then she walks around to the other side.
“Why bother?”
“Because it’s supposed to rain all weekend, and I think you’d probably like to get out of here for the weekend.”
“I need you to tell—”
“Work with me, Benjamin,” she whispers as she pushes on the seat. It barely budges. “Come on.” Her voice breaks as she pushes harder.
“Mom, I can—”
“I’m trying to help you. Please let me help you.”
When a tear rolls down her face, I grip the edge of the seat and pull.
“Okay, I got it.”
When the seat flops on the concrete floor, I see her walking toward the door and can tell she’s wiping tears away.
“Hey, Mom, how about that plate?”
I drag the seat against the wall and look inside the truck. The floorboard is completely rusted and now has a gaping hole where part of the seat had molded itself into the metal.
I hear Mom walking toward me and step back.
She looks around me and starts laughing. She laughs so hard that more tears spill. Then she looks up at me. “What a mess, Ben. What a mess.”
I walk over to the seat and sit down, careful to avoid the spring. “You wanna sit with me while I eat?”
“Yeah”—she smiles—“I sure would.”
“Chicken, huh?”
“Yep.”
After a few bites, I look at her and ask the kind of question no one ever wants to ask, “Is he dying?”
She folds her hands on her lap and looks at them. “He’s sick, but he’s stubborn.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I promised him, Ben,” she whispers.
“I love you, and I love Dad. I’m here, and I’m going to do everything I can. But when a man doesn’t know what he’s fighting for or against, he’s not gonna win, Mom. You didn’t raise a loser.”
“Ben,” she whispers, “things are bad, but even we don’t know what he’s up against.”
“I don’t understand. How do you not know?”
“After the crops are done, he’ll figure out the rest.”
“Mom, what’s the rest?” I ask, completely fucking frustrated.
“You can’t tell her, Ben, so—”
“Mom,” I squeeze her hand. “What’s the rest?”
“Treatment,” she whispers so that I can barely hear her.
“Cancer?” I ask quietly.
She looks up at me then looks down. “I said too much. Please, Ben, don’t push. He can’t handle it.”
“Mom.”
She looks up at me, eyes filled with pain, sorrow, and fear.
“We will get through this, but I can’t be kept in the dark.”
“You can’t tell her.”
24
Love Without End, Amen
Ben
I promised Mom I would sleep inside, but not until the weekend. I wanted to honor her request and do so without letting on I know. I don’t want to fuck up and, right now, I don’t trust myself. I also need to somehow make him open the fuck up to me.
The thing I don’t get is the way he’s acting. If I thought I may not live to see too many tomorrows, I sure as hell would like to think I’d be keeping those I loved close, not pushing them away.
When I wake up to Rio digging at the door before dawn, after two hours of solid sleep in which I wasn’t tossing a
nd turning, I figure she has to piss.
Walking outside, I’m shocked to see sparks coming from the shop. Apparently, that’s what she was fussing about, because she makes her way to the shop, and I follow. She thinks something is up, but I know it’s someone welding, and that someone is Dad.
After nudging the back of Dad’s leg, he lifts the welding mask, sets the torch down and holds his hand out to Rio. She obeys his silent order and sits.
Nodding to the truck he tells me, “Couldn’t sleep, so I came out here.”
I walk over and look inside. He patched Kendall’s floor.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Gonna have to tell your mom you did it. With the hand, I’m not supposed to do any lifting, and with meds, I can’t do any driving.”
“Probably shouldn’t be welding then.” I give him a slight smile.
It may seem like we’re back to good, and as much as I want to forget the past few weeks, I can’t. Not yet.
“Gonna call Gene later.”
I nod.
“You thinking about bodywork on this heap of shit?”
“Maybe.” I scratch my head. “Was more concerned with the fact that she was wearing headphones, and while traveling interstate 90 in a couple more weeks when she heads back to college.”
“Brakes good?”
“Already fixed.”
“Tires look new,” he says as he looks at the truck. I see a smirk come and go as quickly as it came. “You do bodywork on this heap, and you’ll spend more on Bondo than you’d spend on a new vehicle.”
“She’s stubborn, loves this thing, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
We’re both facing the open shop doors in silence as the sun begins to peek over the horizon.
“Gonna rain this weekend.”
“Yeah.”
“Going back to Blue Valley?”
“Hadn’t planned on it till next week.”
“Big Fair’s in town.”
I nod. “Heard that, too.”
“You should go.”
I look over at him. “You and Mom want to come?”
He shakes his head.
I wish he would. I wasn’t wrong when I asked if he has mental health issues, and no, I’m no expert, but I don’t need a neon light blinking over his head to know that he’s depressed … deeply.
