by Toler, B N
I tucked myself into the shadows at the top of the stairs, allowing me to hear them but not be seen if one of them rushed out of the kitchen. “Just go,” she said abruptly, no longer trying to keep her voice down. “Do what you want. That’s all you’ve ever done anyway.”
A moment later, my father stomped out of the house, the screen door slamming behind him. “It’s going to be a great summer,” I mumbled sarcastically, as I trudged to my room. That’s what I’d been promised. That’s what my mother had said. This was all her fault.
ALS was such a cruel bitch. The disease had stripped my mother of the ability to physically care for herself, and yet the normal things, like her menstrual cycle, just carried on as if nothing was wrong. Even though we had Annie to oversee Mom’s daily care, there were times when Annie wasn’t available and my brothers and I were still very much involved, which included making sure we always had what she needed on hand.
Bailor and I were at the town pharmacy, feminine products in hand, when Emalee walked in looking like a movie star, a sharp contrast to the drab mid-seventies paint job and dull lighting. From the way she froze just after crossing the threshold, it was easy to see she was not impressed. Her gaze drifted slowly around, stopping when it landed on us just in time to see Bailor throw a package of maxi pads at me. I fumbled awkwardly trying to catch it before I stumbled into an endcap of neatly stacked, economy-sized boxes of tampons, sending them scattering everywhere. The store fell silent as everyone turned toward the commotion and stared.
Darren McKinney, a classmate of mine, poked his head around the aisle and pretended to fight the laughter coming out of him. “Ladies, calm down,” he snorted through a nasal laugh. “You’re not the only girls in this town who need tampons.”
Clearly, Darren wasn’t known for his wit.
I was just about to tell him something really witty and insulting—like screw you, Darren—when Bailor bent over and picked up one of the boxes, studying it before he held it up in triumph. “Found them! We needed the ones for heavy flow.”
Darren cracked up again, his best buddy Justin joining him. “You probably put them in for each other too,” Justin poked.
There’d been a time when I’d have brushed off Justin’s comment, or even thrown an equally crude retort back, but today I just saw red. Maybe it was because I was a klutz and had just knocked over eight-thousand boxes of cotton vagina-sticks; or maybe it was because the girl I liked, but really didn’t want to like, had witnessed it all; or maybe it was because I was buying feminine hygiene products for my dying mother, but I’d never wanted to punch someone so bad in my life.
I started toward him, kicking my way through the scattered tampon boxes, when a gentle hand pressed firmly against my chest.
“Hey, Cole! Hey, Bailor!” Emalee beamed at me as my gaze lifted from her hand to meet her pleading eyes. “I thought I saw y’all’s truck out there,” she continued, her voice a little too loud and cheerful.
My chest heaved as my heart thundered with anger. I fixed my lethal glare on Darren, who was too busy checking out Emalee’s ass to notice how close he’d come to having his nose broken, which only made me angrier. Apparently, Darren didn’t like his face at all.
“Hey, Emalee,” Bailor said, his tone matching Emalee’s as he stepped beside me. “How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. We dropped my father off at the airport and stopped in for some shampoo on our way home.” She studied my face for a moment then spun around to face Darren and Justin, before quickly adding, “Who are your friends here?”
“They’re not our friends,” I growled.
“I’m Darren, and this is Justin.” The douche said, jabbing a thumb toward his equally douchey sidekick.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Emalee.” She reached out a hand and shook theirs. “Any chance you guys could show me where the hair product aisle is?”
They both reared back in shock at her request. “Uh… yeah, sure.” Darren stammered. “Right this way.”
Emalee moved to follow them but turned back, giving me and Bailor a quick glance. “Keep me posted on the bike? I’m afraid I’m stranded without it. Mama won’t let me drive.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’ll have it ready tomorrow. I can swing by and drop it off,” Bailor said.
“You’re a peach, Bailor.” She smiled and followed after Darren and Justin.
One of the pharmacy employees had seen what happened and insisted on taking care of the destroyed display herself. I normally wouldn’t let anyone clean up my mess, but I was grateful for the chance to get out of there before Darren did something else that pissed me off.
“She’s an awesome girl,” Bailor noted after we’d paid for our items and were walking out to the truck.
“She shouldn’t have intervened,” I shot back over the creak of the passenger door as Bailor opened it. “I’m sure she just did it for the attention. Good for her,” I muttered snidely. “She got two of the biggest douche-rockets in town to worship her.”
Bailor’s grin was so big I thought it’d split his face. “She isn’t interested in them, you asswad. She did it to keep you from getting in a fight.”
“Another reason she shouldn’t have involved herself. I would love nothing more than to rearrange Darren’s face. He deserves it.”
Bailor dipped his chin slightly, his grin fading. “They’re just dumb kids, Cole. They have no clue what life can throw at them at any given moment. They didn’t have to grow up fast like we did.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” I argued, frustrated that he was defending the two biggest tools I’d ever known. “A good ass-kicking might help them mature a bit.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, a whisper of a laugh escaping him. “And I, myself, can’t deny taking a swing at them might feel pretty good. But part of being a man… a real man… is that when you know better, you have to do better. And we,” he motioned his hand between us giving me a pointed look, “are men. We know better.”
I didn’t argue with him because I couldn’t. He was right, no matter how much I hated it. We were raised to do our best, to give our all, and always behave with integrity, which wasn’t easy in a world where everyone else always did what felt good, no matter the effect it would have on others. It was even harder when we always did our best and gave our all and still came out as the underdog.
Darren and Justin stepped out as I started the truck, holding both doors open for Emalee, ridiculous grins plastered on their faces. She strode out of the store and slid her sunglasses on with practiced ease, clearly used to being fawned over. Not that she wasn’t worth fawning over in her cutoffs and low-cut flowy top that showed off a spectacular body and, other than a fresh bandage, perfect long legs.
Bailor followed my line of sight before turning back to me. “Looking a bit green there, little brother.”
“Shut it, Bailor,” I grunted and dropped the truck into reverse, deliberately gunning it out of the space before braking hard and slamming into drive. I cut the wheel sharply and pulled away, kicking up gravel as the tires broke loose and we sped away.
Bailor shook as he laughed. “Green as green can be.”
I draped myself limply over the porch swing and listened to the slight squeak it made with each subtle rock.
Boredom.
Sheer and utter boredom.
Why couldn’t my father have taken me with him?
Mama had run extension cords out to the porch and plugged in two box fans, directing one on her and the other on me. We’d been lazily enjoying the artificial breeze when she suddenly perked up. I followed her gaze to the Kepner’s truck as it plowed down the driveway.
I immediately sat up and straightened myself as she stood and leaned against the pillar near the steps. Disappointment tickled my chest when I realized there was only one Kepner in the truck and it wasn’t my Kepner of choice.
A minute later, Bailor approached the house, a friendly smile plastered on his face. “Hi there, ma’am,” he said to m
y mother. “I’m Bailor Kepner.”
She reached out her hand and Bailor took the two steps up to reach her. “Nice to meet you, Bailor.”
“I’m sorry to drop by unannounced, but I was hoping, with your permission, I might steal Emalee for a bit. Pinky is all fixed up, and I thought she might like to ride it back.”
Mama glanced back at me, one brow quirked, silently asking me if I wanted to go.
I was definitely eager to get out of the house and excited at the possibility of seeing Cole Kepner, who was a jerk and who I definitely didn’t like. I stood quicker than I meant to, causing the swing to thump against the railing behind it. Slow down, Em. I schooled my features and attempted to look casual. “Can you give me a minute to get my shoes?” I asked him.
“Take your time,” he responded.
A few minutes later I was back outside and walking with Bailor to his truck.
“Be back before dark, Em,” Mama called after me.
On the way to the Kepner farm, I let my head rest on the window frame enjoying the wind on my face while Bailor explained everything he’d done to the bike.
Then he made an abrupt change of subject. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did yesterday… stepping in like that.” I twisted to meet his gaze before he returned it to the road. “Cole isn’t a bad guy, or anything. I hope you know that.”
“Those guys were rude. I’m sorry y’all had to deal with that.” I wasn’t so inept that I hadn’t put two things together. Mama had said their mother was really sick, and I’d known exactly who they were buying feminine products for.
“Yeah, they’re tools.” We both chuckled a little. “I know you’re only here for the summer and, compared to where you’re from and where you’re going, it probably seems really boring around here, but you’re always welcome to come by.”
“I’m not sure Cole would agree with that.”
“You got it wrong, Em,” he said, using my nickname like we’d been friends for years. “Cole had to grow up pretty fast. Faster than a kid should have to. He’s had to let go of a lot of things, he thinks he’s cursed.” His mouth curved up in a sad sort of smile. “He thinks we’re all cursed. He doesn’t get close to anyone because he doesn’t want the curse to spread.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Why would he think that?”
We were halfway down their driveway and Bailor shook his head. “That’s a story for another time. Just know he’s a good man, no matter how hard he tries to make you think otherwise.”
When we got out of the truck Bailor went straight to the barn and reemerged a moment later wheeling Pinky. “She’s good as new,” Bailor assured me as he stopped the bike in front of me. Why don’t you give her a spin.”
I climbed on and biked around the flat part of their front yard. Their driveway wasn’t paved; at some point there’d been more gravel, but all that was left now was mostly hard-packed dirt. “It’s perfect, Bailor. Thank you!” I beamed as I circled around him and stopped.
“Well, if you don’t feel comfortable riding it all the way home, I don’t mind driving you back,” Bailor said, gesturing toward the truck, seemingly anxious for me to leave.
“Would you mind if I used your restroom before I go?” I asked, stalling for time. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, but I hadn’t seen Cole yet.
Bailor glanced back at the house, then to me. “Of course,” he said politely. “I hope you don’t mind using the bathroom in the barn. Our guest bathroom is in a bit of disarray.”
It sounded like a lie, but I would’ve never questioned him. “Thanks, Bailor. I’ll be quick.” I climbed off Pinky and dropped the kickstand, intending to take as long as I possibly could to stall in hopes of seeing Cole.
Joe was at the kitchen table with a calculator and a stack of bills, jotting something in the ledger he kept for the farm’s finances. I had just come in to get some water, gulping it down when the phone hanging on our kitchen wall started ringing. I moved to answer it, but he held his hand up and firmly stated, “Don’t.”
There was a one hundred out of ten chance it was a bill collector. Most days we took the phone off the hook, effectively ceasing the calls, but for some reason he hadn’t done it yet.
Joe closed his eyes, the maddening shrill obviously getting under his skin. Debt was its own kind of soul killer—a beast with a whip, lashing us on the back as we worked our hearts out just to have enough money to merely sate it temporarily—and our family had been dealing with it for three generations. My grandfather had taken out a high-interest loan in a last-ditch effort after a few years of drought had killed his crop, and the farm has been underwater ever since. My parents had refinanced to lower the interest, but my father had been a young farmer when he took over, and the odds had been against him.
I kept my eyes fixed on the phone, anxiety coiling in my neck and back as if we were at risk of losing everything simply for not answering it. When whoever was calling had finally given up and the kitchen had fallen silent, Joe dropped his pencil and ran a palm, down his face.
“Can you listen out for Mom for a minute? I need to use the bathroom.” He rolled out of the room without waiting for a response. When I heard the bathroom door shut, I edged around the table to look at the bills. My stomach churned as I noted every one of them had some variation of a ‘past due’ stamp.
The screen door slammed and Bailor appeared, heading to the cabinet for a glass. “You alright?”
“Just great,” I said sarcastically, sliding the stack in his direction as he stepped up to the table.
He picked up the top one, studying it before returning it to the stack and meeting my stare. “Everything’s going to be okay, Cole,” he promised, though he had no business doing so. He didn’t know if it would be. “This crop is going to be a good one. I can feel it.” The words were optimistic, but his tone didn’t match them.
I didn’t bother to argue with him. We’d been fed so many servings of bullshit by life, if the flavor he tasted was optimism, I’d let him savor it.
“I brought Emalee to get the bike.” He said changing the subject. “Not sure if she’s going to need a ride home or not. She’s using the bathroom in the barn; you should check on her.”
Anger bubbled up inside me as a headache creeped in. We were just talking about the debt we were drowning in—debt that would take our farm from us—and he thinks I should somehow forget we were on the verge of losing everything, including our mother, simply because a pretty girl was outside, waiting to bat her eyes at me. I saw his actions for what they were, and it pissed me off. I wasn’t some child needing to be distracted, and I didn’t need him trying to create some mirage that life was grand so long as I focused on what was in his left hand while ignoring reality in his right.
“Jesus, Bailor,” I griped as I slid the stack of bills over to where Joe had them. “Give it a rest.”
“Give what a rest?” He pretended to be aloof.
“I don’t have time for her, or any girl. Not while our crop is dying right alongside our mother.”
He cleared his throat and turned on the faucet to fill his glass. “I know,” he said sarcastically. “You’re so busy feeling sorry for yourself, it’s probably hard to pencil in any leisurely activities in that hectic schedule of yours.”
“Are you serious right now?” I snapped.
He took a few gulps of water before answering me. “What is it? You think she’s too good for you or something?”
Frustration coiled inside of me, hissing. I didn’t want to admit it, but he’d hit a little too close to home. “Take her home, Bailor,” I muttered as I went to leave.
“If you don’t want her here, go tell her that,” he challenged. “If you can look that pretty girl, who clearly has a crush on you and hasn’t done a thing in the world but be nice to you, right in her face and tell her you don’t like her, then do it and send her on her way.”
We locked gazes for a moment as he casually leaned back against the sink and I stood in the d
oorway fighting the urge to throttle him. He was bluffing—daring me because he didn’t think I would do it. He was wrong. I could definitely do it, but that didn’t mean I wanted to. I knew it would hurt her feelings, and while I wasn’t interested in even being friends with her, it didn’t mean I wanted to do anything to offend her. I’d done a decent job of keeping my distance, but Bailor kept inviting her over and finding ways to force us together. If he’d just leave well enough alone, no one would get hurt, and I could get on with doing whatever I could to save our farm.
“See, you can’t,” Bailor finally said. “Because you do like her.”
It had nothing to do with whether or not I liked her, and he knew it, but he didn’t seem to care that she was the one who’d be hurt by his antics.
The phone rang again and I quickly picked it up. “It’s for you,” I said flatly tossing the receiver at him. Taken by surprise, he dropped his glass as he clumsily caught the receiver. The water spilled down his shirt as the glass hit the floor. Luckily it didn’t break. “Since you have so much time to decide what I need, maybe you can handle a few of the debt collectors.”
I marched out the door as he called after me, “Cole! Don’t, man!”
I killed as much time as I could before I flushed the toilet to keep up my ruse and washed my hands. When I stepped out of the restroom, the back of the barn was open and led out to a field of green wheat standing tall against a picturesque blue sky, both of which seemed to stretch on forever until they finally met at the horizon. I walked out as a light breeze ran across the field, stroking the stalks like fingers brushing against velvet. The view was breathtaking in its simplicity.
“So beautiful,” I murmured aloud. I stood transfixed for several minutes before remembering I needed to stop lingering around the Kepners’ farm hoping for a glance at Cole. I turned back toward the barn, intending to say goodbye to Bailor, and drew up short when I saw I wasn’t alone.