by Jordan Marie
“I didn’t steal it, dummy. I only borrowed it. I’m going to give it back when I get this done.”
“You could have ax-ed for it!” I huff.
“No point, I’m going to give it back as soon as I’m done,” he mutters.
“I bet not! I bet you were going to keep it!”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m a guy. What would I do with a pink marker.”
“You can draw flowers with them and put hearts above your I’s when you write.”
“Guys don’t put hearts on stuff, Pet.”
“That’s sad. I like to, but I can’t with my name. My friend Sierra does, she has I’s in her name though. It makes me feel bad cause I can’t. Do you think Mom would let me change my name, Cyan?”
“Why would you want to change your name? Your name is pretty.”
“Kids make fun of it at school.”
“You want me to beat them up?”
“Nah. They wouldn’t stop. Still, I wish I had a pretty name. Maybe Mom would change my name to a color like you guys. I could be Pink! Pink is a beautiful name.”
“You can’t be pink. I like Petal.”
“You’re a boy, you wouldn’t understand. And I can’t make hearts above an I with Petal. You know what would be really good? If my name was like Maggie’s.”
“I guess,” he mutters not bothering to look up at me.
“Do you think she’d change names with me, Cyan? I could be Magnol-ya. That’s got I’s in it don’t it?”
“There. The box is done,” he says.
“What’s it say?”
“Surprise.”
“We should put a heart above the I in it.”
“No, we shouldn’t.”
“But, Mom is the one that’s supposed to be writing it right? She’s a girl. We put hearts.”
“Fine. Whatever,” he growls, letting out a loud breath that makes him sound like a horse snorting. Brothers are always so difficult. “There! Better now?”
“Perfect! Now what?”
“Now I have to make a note.”
“Are you going to write a poem?”
“No. That’s just weird.”
“Girls like poems.”
“Well this is for Jansen and he’s a guy and we don’t like poems.”
“Guys are boring.”
“There. I finished it.”
“What’s it say?” I mumble, hating that I can’t read a lot of words yet. I know my colors…well, most of them. I can read small words if I sound them out too. Someday I’m going to know all the words!
“It just says that Mom likes him and wants to go out.”
“That’s good. You’re smart, Cyan.”
“I know. You’ll be smart someday too, Pet. You just have to get older like me.”
“Yeah. You better put Mom’s name on it.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” he mumbles, bending down to write on the paper.
“No! Stop!” I yell.
“What?”
“Mom’s name don’t start with an M. Oh! Cyan! Mom’s name has an I! We can put hearts!”
“Crap. I started to sign it mom,” he says, looking at the paper. Then he marks the M out and writes Ida Sue beside it.
“You didn’t make a heart on it…”
“I’m not going to either,” he says folding it and putting it in an envelope. He turns away from me and starts putting a bunch of foil covered squares in the box. He has a lot of them, like hundreds.
“What are those?”
“They’re rubbers.”
“Rubbers? Is that what they make bouncy balls out of?”
“Something like that,” he mutters.
“Oh! I love balls. Can I have some?”
“No. These kinds are only for boys.”
“That’s not very nice,” I grumble. “Boys always get the neat stuff. What do they do with rubbers?”
“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he says. I frown, because Cyan always tells me that stuff, but he never does. I’ll ask Black later. He’ll tell me, he always tells me stuff. While I catch Cyan putting the rubbers in the box I grab the pen he dropped and I draw a flower on the envelope. I want Jansen to really like it, so I make it my prettiest flower ever and then I put a heart in the middle of it. I color in the petals too, cause Cyan might not think so but pink is too pretty of a color not to make flowers.
“Petal! What did you do?”
“I made it pretty. Mom would too if it was her. Don’t you remember how she puts flowers on our lunch bags?”
“I guess. I’m not sure Jansen will like flowers though.”
“Well, Mom does, and if she’s going to like him, then he has to like her flowers!”
“Okay fine. We’ll use the flowers. I don’t have another envelope anyways.”
“Yay! Are we done now?”
“I’m going to put a book in there I got too. I think Jansen will really like it and it might help him with Mom.”
“What is it?”
“It’s just a book,” he says and he looks kind of weird.
“What kind of book. I like books. Our teacher reads to us every day. Mom does too.”
“It’s not a book you read. It mostly has pictures.”
“What kind of pictures?”
“Why are you always asking so many questions? It’s just pictures okay? Geez.”
I start crying. It’s not that I really want to, but he did hurt my feelings. Besides, when I cry my brothers usually give in and do whatever I want and it makes them feel really bad.
“What are you crying about?”
“You think I’m too dumb to see the book.”
“I didn’t say you were dumb, Petal.”
“Then why…” I stop to sniffle, because that makes him feel worse and because I know it will, I make it extra loud. “Why won’t you show it to me?”
“Fine. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. It just shows pictures of a woman.”
“What kind of woman?”
“Any woman. It shows their… thingy.”
“Their thingy?”
“Where you pee.”
“Ew… you mean my butterfly?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Why would Jansen want to see pictures of butterflies?”
“Cause he’s a guy and we don’t… we don’t have butterflies.”
“What do you have?”
“Uh…”
“Don’t you know, Cyan?”
“Of course I know. We have worms.”
“Worms? Gross. Worms are gross. Can I see?”
“No!” he growls and he must be really, really mad cause he turns bright red.
“Why not?”
“Cause, you can’t,” he says turning around to pick up the box.
“You’re awful grouchy. Cyan, I don’t think this book is right. This picture doesn’t look anything like my butterfly.”
“That’s cause it’s a diagram.”
“What’s a die-a-gram?”
“It’s kind of a sketch, but not a real picture.”
“Oh… it’s not very good,” I complain as he snaps the book out of my hand and puts it in the box.
“Trust me, Jansen will like it. All guys would.”
“Guys are weird.” I sigh, then I follow him down the ladder. “I’m glad I’m a girl,” I add, not that Cyan is listening. I doubt he is. He rarely listens. None of my brothers do really. “I wish my name was Pink though…”
10
Jansen
Lord, I was a fool to take this job. It’s the first week of February and I’m still trying to figure out how to save this damn place. I know that doesn’t seem like a lot of time, but when a ranch this size is in this bad of shape it can be an eternity. I need to talk to that contrary woman about extending her mortgage, and I already know without trying how that will go over. However, that’s the only way I’m going to get the spare money to replace her livestock.
Or a miracle.
> Shit. Who am I kidding? It will take both.
I pour some coffee in my mug, hoping it will warm me up. I’ve already been out this morning riding the fence lines. The repairs seem to be holding, but I’d feel better if I had the money to replace most of those damn posts.
I’m getting too damn old for this shit. I should hang it up and maybe find my own spread again, something small. The appeal to do that is about next to nothing. Building something for the future doesn’t mean shit if there’s no one to do it with… or to leave it for. This sure as hell wasn’t how I planned on my life being at this age.
What can you do?
Life’s a bitch. Heard it my whole life and the older I get the more I believe it.
When I get my mug full, I make my way to my office. I frown because the door is open. I could have sworn I had that closed and locked when I left this morning.
I walk to my desk, my eyes more on the morning paper than on where I’m going. I all but flop down in my chair, reaching out blindly to put my cup on my desk. As it connects, something feels off, it’s unsteady. I look to see what’s there, because I always keep my desk clean. That’s when I see a large, square box. It’s brown but on the side facing me, in pink marker is one word.
“Surprise.”
Weird. There’s an envelope propped against it that has a scraggly flower drawn on it, in the same color pink. I open it up, still frowning.
Jansen,
I like you. Thought this would come in handy if we go out on a date.
There’s a jumbled mess like she made a mistake and then her name. Ida Sue.
It might be the strangest note I’ve ever received from a woman. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to her. She’s a beautiful woman, although she can be a bitch. Still, she’s a good mom and it’s obvious she adores her children. She works nonstop. She works cleaning other people’s houses and I know she’s been sewing and baking since I’ve been here. I haven’t asked, but from looking at the books, I’m sure that’s how she’s surviving. There are nights I don’t see the light go out in her room until after four in the morning and she has to have the kids up at six the following morning for school. I admire the hell out of her for that, especially knowing how the people in town treat her.
Still, if I had to bet, I would have said she hated me, especially after the speech about staying away from her kids. A speech I haven’t really paid attention to. I don’t go out of my way to talk with her kids, but the woman better think again if she thinks I’ll ignore them if they come to me and ask for something. I pull the box down into my lap, opening it up—half afraid of what I’ll find in there.
At first, I figure I have to be seeing things wrong. I reach inside and grab a handful and pull them out to be sure.
Condoms. Honestly, there’s probably eighty condoms in this damn box.
Maybe more.
What in the ever-loving hell and tarnation is this?
Then, I notice the size on the condom.
Extra small.
Does she think she’s joking with me? That I’ll find this shit funny?
That’s when I pull out a book that’s in there. A huge hardcover book that’s glossy black with white lettering on the front. The title makes my whole body freeze for a second, mostly in disbelief.
A Guide To The Female Reproduction System
Jesus H. Christ.
The woman is as crazy as a Bessie bug.
If she thinks I’m going to be the next candidate to give her a new kid, she’s in for a rude awakening. I slam the book down on the floor and shove out of my seat. I don’t know who in the hell this woman thinks she is, but I’m not about to put up with it. I’ll give her a piece of my mind and then she can take this job and shove it. It’s no wonder her last foreman ran out of town. She probably asked him to give her another kid too!
Women. There’s not a one worth a damn. I don’t know why I keep forgetting that.
11
Ida Sue
I close my eyes trying to focus. I’ve been mending this shirt for so long that I’m seeing two of my needle. Something has to give soon. I don’t like who I am these days. My poor kids are going to forget they have a mom who loves them. I’m putting too much on them. Maggie is practically raising the lot of them—especially Petal and Mary. I put my sewing down and decide to go outside for a bit. The cool air may help me. As I make it outside Petal and Cyan come running in the house.
“Hey, you varmints. Where have you been this early on a Saturday?”
“I…We… Mommy, I got to pee!” Petal whines, taking off running. That child pees so much it’s a wonder she doesn’t float away.
“We wanted to help Jansen feed the horses, but he was already gone,” Cyan mumbles. “I’m going to go back to bed, Mom. It’s too early.”
“But you—”
“It’s Saturday, Mom,” he interrupts, like that explains it all and maybe it does. I shake my head and walk outside on the porch.
I should be counting my blessings. I have a little time to myself. The other kids are all sleeping and I just put Mary back down about thirty minutes ago. She’s recovering from an earache and hasn’t been sleeping much at night. It will probably take me months to get that child back on a regular schedule.
I lean against the old porch bannister and watch the sun rise up in the sky. There’s a definite chill in the air, but somehow just seeing the sun makes me feel warmer. I don’t know what it is about a sun rising in the sky and bathing the world in its light, but it always makes me feel…hopeful.
“You’re damn crazy,” Jansen growls, jerking me out of my thoughts.
“You’ll have to come up with something better than that to get my attention,” I snap back, wondering what in the hell has got him upset now.
“Lady, that’s just it. I don’t want your attention.”
For some reason his words hurt.
Which is crazy.
I don’t want a man and I sure don’t want this man. He’s unstable as they come and I honestly have no idea what has set him off this time.
“Then why are you up here sounding like a bee flew up your ass and is stinging you where the sun don’t shine?”
“I got your little present,” he growls and waits like he thinks I should understand exactly what that means. Then, I remember I had Green take him a piece of red velvet cake last night with his dinner. I don’t usually send him dessert, and thought it would be a nice surprise.
Apparently, I was wrong.
“You’re welcome?” I half question, because why someone would get bent out of shape because you sent them a piece of cake is beyond me.
“I’m forty-four,” he barks.
“Okay…”
“I’ve been single a lot of those years, Ida Sue.”
“Must be your sunny disposition,” I mutter sarcastically.
“I’m not in the market to be your next baby daddy!”
I’m glad at that point that the porch post is behind me. I’m used to people whispering and spewing their venom. I ignore them and hold my head high—much like Orville taught me. Still, this time, hearing it from Jansen is painful. I didn’t expect it.
“I don’t remember asking you,” I respond and I’m kind of proud of myself, because I managed to keep the pain out of my voice. Actually, I kept any emotion out of my voice.
“So, what was your little present about, then?” he says, his tone accusing me of something that I just can’t wrap my mind around.
“I was being nice! Clearly, that was a waste of effort!” I yell, tired of this crap.
What is it with me that turns men into raving lunatics?
Raving, lying, lunatics.
“Nice? You’re nuttier than a fruitcake if you think that was being nice.”
“Some people would think it was very nice!”
“Then, that explains why you have a hundred kids.”
I slap him. I didn’t plan on it. I didn�
�t even think about it. It was pure, gut instinct. But, I don’t regret it.
Not one damn bit.
“My life, the way I choose to live it, and especially my kids are none of your damn business, Jansen Reed.” I tell him, my voice so cold and quiet that I wouldn’t be surprised if it began snowing around us.
I’m shaking with anger and the only solace I can find is the redness that is on his face from my hit. I curl my hand into a fist to resist the urge to hit him again. I watch as he brings his hand up to his jawline and holds it there. His eyes appraising me.
“You’re right,” he says, surprising me. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You damn sure shouldn’t have. Maybe we don’t see eye to eye on what constitutes being nice for someone.”
“Well, I think that’s pretty clear. I think most people would feel exactly the way I do. Have you ever thought about getting therapy, Lady?”
“Have you ever thought about what it would feel like to have buckshot in your hind end? Because you’re about to find out.”
“You beat all I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, yanking his hat off and running his hand through his hair. I refuse to think that’s sexy in any way, shape, or form.
“Listen, I need you to work here on the ranch, at least until I can find a replacement. I’m pretty sure you need the job or you wouldn’t be here.”
He doesn’t reply, but I push on through.
“Let’s just make a deal for now. I’ll make sure I don’t go out of my way to be nice to you and you stay away from me. We’ll only talk about the ranch—that’s when we have to talk at all, and that’s it. Can we agree on that?”
“Fine. As long as you get it through your head that I don’t want to be the next in line to give you a kid.”
“I’m not planning on having more kids! Jesus, I can’t anyway!”