by Warren Cain
“John, can you take care of my chores today?” asked the oldest brother Jim as he picked up two pieces of sausage and headed out the door.
“That’s the third time this week,” complained John.
“I’m busy with extra morning practices for basketball. Gotta be ready for state this year, little bro. I apologize for those of you in the family who were not gifted with as much athletic ability as I, but we all need to make sacrifices so I can lead the team to state.” Jim smiled as he headed out the door.
He does seem to be more athletic than the rest of the family, thought Kirk, who looked up to Jim despite his arrogance.
A loud roaring motor could be heard coming into the drive.
“Uncle Robert’s here!” shouted Kirk, able to tell it was his uncle Robert’s truck by the distinguishable sound the engine made.
His mom looked up from the dishes through the window above the sink and shook her head disapprovingly as her younger brother threw an empty beer can in with many others that lined the bottom of his pickup’s bed. She smiled as the usual chaos that came with a visit from Uncle Robert could already be felt in the room as the kids ran to the door, leaving their half-full plates at the table.
“Don’t forget to finish your breakfast! You guys need to be ready for school in thirty minutes.”
“Run, you little devils!” screamed Robert in a threatening voice as he opened the door. “Run!”
“Oh, Robert,” Madeline pointed out with a disgusted tone. “You know we’re all getting too old to run from you, except Kirk.”
Kirk stopped halfway to the living room as he heard the comment. He slowly walked back to the group with his head down, hoping no one would say anything else about the matter.
“I guess you are getting big, Madeline. So big that you don’t even call me uncle anymore, but not so big that I can’t whip you.”
Robert’s brown eyes lit up as he grabbed Madeline and threw her over his shoulder. The house was now out of control with the kids screaming and Uncle Robert growling as he chased the children with Madeline hanging over his shoulder.
“Robert, have you been drinking already?” asked Kirk’s mom after the excitement died down.
“It’s not just for breakfast anymore, Sis.”
“You need to slow down, or you’ll end up an old drunk like Uncle Fred. Remember how bad it was for his kids?”
“I don’t have kids.”
“You’re too hard to talk to,” she said as she turned away.
“Kirk, you up for some fence fixing this weekend?”
“You bet,” replied Kirk, excited at the thought of going to work on Uncle Robert’s farm.
“You can come along too, John.”
“I’ve got plenty to do around here, thanks.”
“See you this weekend, Kirk. I’ll come by to pick you up around 6:30.”
Robert walked out the door, leaving his sister to try to get the excited kids to finish their food and leave for school on time.
Chapter 2
Sarah Horton opened the door of her home with a burst of energy. “I’m home!” she shouted.
Sarah was having her seventeenth birthday today, and her dad had promised to take her to a Melon Head concert in the nearby town of Break Ridge despite the fact it was a Thursday night. “A school night, young lady,” she envisioned her father saying.
Sarah had lived in Lansing all of her life and could not wait until graduation to move out. Being the daughter of the man who employed almost everyone in town had a distinct disadvantage when it came to relationships at school.
The large room she entered remained quiet. She flipped a light switch to the side of the door that lit up an impressive-looking crystal chandelier that hung eighteen feet above the highly polished marble floor. A wooden staircase with decorative spindles gently curved upward toward a landing that was near eye level with the bottom of the chandelier. Her greeting was not returned. She knew her mother would be gone this evening.
She couldn’t miss her Thursday night at the bridge club, thought Sarah to herself. Gossiping old bats.
Her mom was always too busy being socially active with the town’s upper crust to spend time doing family things.
“Hello?”
A feeling of disappointment grew inside of her as she realized her dad had not made it home from work.
I should have known, she thought to herself. I wish I was as important to him as that factory.
Sarah looked at the answering machine. The light was blinking to indicate a message had been left.
“Wonder who that is?” remarked Sarah sarcastically.
“Hey, Sarah,” said the voice on the machine, “I’ll have to cancel our plans for the concert tonight. Something came up at work, and I can’t get away. I’ll make it up. Sorry.”
“Damn it, Dad!” shouted Sarah. “I’m not even going to try anymore. You always break our plans.”
All Sarah wanted was to spend some time with him, and he always managed to disappoint her. She felt herself wanting to cry.
“I’m not crying. You’re not worth it!” she shouted at her father as though he were there.
I can’t even tell you how big a disappointment you are because you’re never here. The thought angered her even more. They had planned this night for over a month, yet he broke the plans for something last-minute that came up at work.
She understood her father owned the factory and most of the town, but he was so bent on the “empire he built” that he found no time for his daughter and her life had suffered for it. She put her jacket back on and headed out the door for a walk.
Chapter 3
Kirk stopped to admire the sunset as the warm May breeze blew gently against his skin. Several different species of birds were serenading their mates, creating what sounded like a well-orchestrated symphony. He stood near a large wooden barn that from its design looked to have been built close to a century before. Despite its fading paint, it held an appearance of sturdiness which stood as a monument to the quality of the workmanship.
From this vantage point, Kirk could see cattle grazing in the pasture. Beyond the pasture was a large oak timber located in the floodplain of the sinew creek. The sun was setting behind the trees. A cloud drifted above the sun, scattering the sun’s rays across the sky and causing an orange glow behind the cloud. A mist began to rise to the top of the trees, adding an otherworldliness to the scene and creating a temporary portrait Kirk found himself unable to turn away from until the sun was gone.
He had suffered through the last day of school for the week with a hangover from the night before and was feeling better now that he was doing the chores and working off what little remained of it. He and John were almost finished with the chores, and he was anxious to clean up and go to town for his Friday night date with Sarah. Sarah had turned seventeen the day before, and Kirk was taking her out for a special birthday dinner.
In general, he considered his communication ability to be a shortcoming, but Sarah was the exception. Letting her know how he felt was not only something he could do, it was easy. There was no apprehension.
He had big plans for them when graduation came.
“We’ll move to a big city,” he told her with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll get a job, while you work on your degree.”
He was uncertain what he wanted to do for a living. The only part of the plan missing was deciding which big city. Kirk was hoping for New York, while she was looking for somewhere a little warmer such as Miami. New York or Miami—that was the dream. Sarah had a medical degree to pursue, and he decided that when the time came, he would find something to do.
Sarah had expressed a little concern at which profession he wished to choose, but she always stood by him on his dreams. She loved the way he would describe their life in the city. It sounded perfect to her.
“R
ace you to the house,” hollered John, who was already running towards home with a good twenty-foot head start.
They both stood five eleven, although each claimed to be taller than the other. They both had sandy blond hair and blue eyes as well, but despite their physical similarities, their personalities were much different.
John seemed content with life on the farm, almost as though there was never another choice in life but to become a farmer. It seemed to Kirk that John could not grasp the concept of leaving this place, as though there was no world worth knowing beyond the farm. Kirk, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to get on to more exciting things.
“There’s something over that hill besides the local feed store,” he would tell John. “Something past that is where I belong.”
“What did you do to your truck?” asked John, pointing to the rear fender that had been bent as though something came at it from straight underneath.
Kirk thought back to the night before but could not remember hitting anything quite that hard. He remembered going to the car wash to wash the mud off so his mom wouldn’t see how much mud he had been in. I don’t even remember driving home.
John could tell from the pause and the confused look that Kirk could not remember making the dent.
“Damn it, Kirk. You’ve got to stop getting so drunk all the time. You do it almost every night. You’re turning out just like Uncle Robert. Do you even remember driving home?”
“Yeah, I remember driving home. I wasn’t that drunk,” lied Kirk.
“What time did you make it home?” countered John.
“Around 12:30,” he responded in an uncertain tone.
“Try 2:00. Good guess, though.”
“I don’t drink that much,” said Kirk walking away, hoping he would drop the conversation.
I do hate that dent in my truck, he thought with a sharp twinge of regret. Probably was looking up to Uncle Robert that got me started drinking. He gave me my first drink when I was twelve and quite a few since then.
Upon entering the house, they were greeted by the smell of supper on the stove. Their mom always had a meal prepared for them just like clockwork.
“Sit down, boys,” said their mom. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Mom, you know I’m taking Sarah out for her birthday tonight,” replied Kirk.
Taking her out on Friday night was nothing new. Him and Sarah had an ongoing agreement that Friday night would be their night together and Saturday would be open to hang out with friends should they so choose.
“I’m taking Sarah out to eat like I have for the past who knows how many Fridays,” said Kirk.
“You should invite her over to eat some Friday. I always cook more than enough.”
Kirk knew she liked to cook and clean house to keep her mind occupied. It had only been a year and a half since his father had passed away, and his mom was still adjusting to her new life without him.
“Sometime soon, Mom,” replied Kirk as he headed for the shower. He was always a little apprehensive about taking Sarah out to the farm. He liked the time they shared alone and did not want to spend “their” Friday night with anyone but her.
* * *
“See ya, Mom!” hollered Kirk as he walked out the door. “You, too, butthead,” he said laughingly to John.
Kirk jumped in the truck his mom bought for him only recently. Nice dent, he thought to himself.
His dad had been foresighted enough to leave the family with a little money in the event of his passing. Kirk told his mom she didn’t have to buy the truck for him, but she insisted, saying, “It would make your father happy to see you in it.”
It was a couple of years old but nicer than what most kids were driving in his school.
He drove up the winding asphalt driveway to Sarah’s house. The driveway was lined with well-tended ornamental trees and shrubs. The Horton’s home was a large white mansion with a porch fronted by four impressive-looking columns. The front door was large enough Kirk was almost certain he could drive a small car through it.
He always hated going into the house. Her father was all business and was always inquiring as to what Kirk was going to do with his life. He was an overbearing successful businessman in his late fifties.
“Be a leader, son,” he would tell Kirk. “That’s the only way you’ll be successful. Don’t be a follower. Let the followers work for you.”
Kirk had always been afraid to mention his career uncertainty to Sarah’s father.
“Good evening, Mr. Horton. Is Sarah ready?” asked Kirk.
“Not yet, son,” replied Mr. Horton. “Sit down for a minute, Kirk.”
A chill ran up Kirk’s spine. He hated being alone with Mr. Horton. “Okay, sir,” he said, forcing his voice not to crack.
“What are you going to do with your life, son?” inquired Mr. Horton, putting his hand on the back of Kirk’s neck.
Two things about this offend me, thought Kirk. One, he’s touching me; and two, I’m not his son.
Kirk tried to hold back any appearance of being offended for two reasons. One was Sarah, and the other was Mr. Horton’s size. He was a big man with the ability to intimidate. Kirk always thought that was one of the key factors to Mr. Horton’s success.
“Well, sir,” stammered Kirk. “I’m planning on—”
“Are you ready to go?” interrupted Sarah.
Sarah looked at Kirk with a knowing smile. She was always saving him from these moments with her father but not until he was very uncomfortable. He always teased her that she waited until the last possible minute.
Sarah was an attractive girl with dark eyes and black hair that seemed to flow with her movements. Being with her the rest of my life must be how John feels about the farm, thought Kirk. There just isn’t anything else.
“We’ll continue this conversation later, son,” insisted Mr. Horton.
OK, dad, thought Kirk.
“Yes, sir,” he replied instead.
It always made him more at ease to crack a joke in his head when he was uncomfortable. My only defense is my humor.
Sometimes it was hard for him to say what he was thinking to others. He often felt as though he was missing out on a lot of things because he never defended himself. Parents who taught Christian values had raised him, and the “turn the other cheek” philosophy seemed to have stuck with him.
Always mild mannered, he thought.
One of his friends told him he was timid. Kirk thought at least that sounded better than some of the other names he had heard for it. Sarah, on the other hand, made him feel strong, like a man. She understood him and what he was feeling and knew just what to say to boost his ego.
“Did ya miss me?” asked Sarah as she scooted over to sit beside him. She always waited until they were out of the driveway before sitting by him.
“Let’s put it this way,” replied Kirk with a smile, “I’m glad I held out for the bench seats instead of the bucket seats.”
Sarah smiled at the comment.
“Well, son, what are you going to do with your life?” joked Sarah in a voice meant to imitate her father’s.
“Hey! You WERE waiting for the last minute to rescue me!”
“What do you mean?” asked Sarah, giving the best innocent look she could.
“Are you ready for a beer?” asked Kirk, reaching under the seat for the beer he left there earlier so he could start drinking as soon as they left the Horton house.
“No, thanks.”
Kirk opened his beer and chugged nearly half of it before taking a breath.
“What would please my lady for her dining pleasure tonight?”
“The usual,” answered Sarah with a gleam in her eye.
The usual consisted of a local fast food burger, fries, and beer taken to the top of Lookout Hill. Most travelers through the area thought it must
have a good view to get that nickname, but the hill received its moniker from the flocks of bird that nested there and were famous for “bomb droppings.” The view of the landscape was poor, but the locals liked to send travelers up there as a joke. Kirk and Sarah enjoyed the area at night because the birds were in their nests and visitors to the site was rare.
Kirk laid a blanket on the ground past the edge of the area the birds flew over and sat down to enjoy their meal.
“Would you like a beer?”
“No, thanks,” replied Sarah.
Kirk grabbed himself a beer.
“The stars are beautiful tonight.”
“Do you think we’re alone out here?” Sarah asked.
“I think so,” answered Kirk. “Except for the birds.”
“I mean life on other planets.”
“I know what you meant, I was joking. I would have to say the odds are good for it. We’ve only been on one planet and it has life on it. So, I would say out of the other trillion or so planets we haven’t been on, one of them is bound to have life. I love being here with you just talking and holding you.”
“Me, too,” replied Sarah warmly.
Kirk pushed her forward to allow himself to stand up.
“Ready for one yet?”
“No, thanks. Are you sure you need one?”
Kirk felt a little lightheaded from the beer he had consumed, but he wasn’t ready to quit.
“I’m fine,” replied Kirk trying not to slur his words. “Besides we still have an hour and a half until we have to leave. I only wish it was four hours,” said Kirk, leaning over to kiss her. The look of concern left her as she surrendered to his warm kiss.
Chapter 4
Kirk drove down the winding trail back to town. It was 9:45 when he and Sarah had left Lookout Hill. Kirk had heard mention of a party on old Menlow Bridge, which had been abandoned by the county and was a popular party spot for the local teens.
“We have time to stop and have one beer at the party, then we’ll head home,” insisted Kirk.