by Xavier Neal
“Before we get started, why don’t I introduce myself since Runt here lacks manners,” Big Foot states slyly. “William Jr. or as friends and family know me, Big Foot.”
“No shit,” I mindlessly mutter out loud.
Both men laugh together, not even remotely offended.
My face threatens to shade the color of my pet. “Sorry…You’re just…very large.”
“And you’re very tiny. Like pocket size.”
Big Foot looks identical to Ford except slightly older in the face and a helluva lot taller. I’ve seen pictures of the other’s but this is the only one I’ve met face to face and definitely the only one he looks like he might’ve been cloned from.
His enormous arms fold across his solid chest. “No wonder Runt likes you so much. He gets to feel tall for once in his life.”
This time my eyes glance Ford’s direction to see his face reddening.
Huh. That’s two references about being interested in more than just friendship. Okay, so not two definitely because you could call your friend beautiful, but the likes you so much comment was about more…It has to be. Why else would his face look like a strawberry ready to burst?
“I’m Ollie,” I extend my hand for shaking. As his engulfs mine, I add, “And this little missy here is Princess Pinky.”
“Princess Pinky?” Big Foot tries to say without laughing.
Ford helplessly cringes at the pending ridicule.
He tosses his brother a playful look. “You let her name your hog, Princess Pinky?”
“He didn’t exactly let me.”
Big Foot gives me a crooked smirk.
“I named it and he just requested her last name be Shaw. We compromised.”
“Compromised?” Big Foot nods, still mockingly towards his baby brother. “New territory for you, Runt.”
“Will you just shut the hell up and check her out, please?”
He chuckles again, swallows whatever comeback was on the tip of his tongue, and questions, “What’s wrong with the hog?”
“She’s dying!”
“She’s not dying.” Ford rolls his eyes. “She might’ve eaten something she shouldn’t have. My money says she’s fine, but Ollie needs the reassurance.” He offers me a sweet smile before asking, “Can you check her out as a favor?”
“Yeah. But you owe me one. It’s bath night for the boys and because I’m coming home late, I’m in charge of it.”
Curiosity has my mouth run away from me again. “You don’t bathe your kids every night?”
Big Foot’s green eyes fill with mirth. “We just hose ‘em off most nights.”
My jaw drops.
The two of them laugh again at my expense getting a glare in return.
“We have a deal with the twins. If they shower without givin’ us hell, they are each allowed one night a week to have a bath instead. When they were real little, it would’ve been easier to give a bath to a frog than either of them, so we turned bath night into somethin’ special. There’s bubbles, battleships, and juice boxes. Basically, a party in the tub.”
“That’s really clever.”
“Didn’t Runt tell you I’m the oldest, most attractive, and the wisest?”
“With an ego the same size as you,” I tease getting chuckles out of both men.
He wags a finger at me. “You’re a keeper.”
I catch Ford pressing his lips together as if to stop his agreement.
Am I? Because shouldn’t you kiss a keeper or at the very least have an official date?
“I’m gonna take her into the back, just the two of us. Sometimes when animals sense their owner’s discomfort it feeds their urge to wanna overplay an injury or illness, just like children.” Big Foot gently transfers her into his arms. “I’ll take real good care of her. You two just sit tight.”
We nod and have a seat on the couch closest to the receptionist desk.
This is worse than waiting at the regular doctor’s office…What if she is dying? We’ve barely had her! If she does, will he stop coming over to see me? Will we get a new pet to share? Will we-
“Relax,” Ford softly states giving my lap a pat. “Stop worrying about her.” Before my mind can start wondering off again he informs, “Big Foot is phenomenal with animals. All kinds. Always has been. He was even better than Pop. When he was about ten, they say he announced he was gonna be a veterinarian and never let it go. In clinic he sees your typical shit, cats, dogs, the occasional snake, but he also makes house calls to many of the local ranches. He bought this property to build his own place and their house on. He never wanted to be far from his family if he didn’t have to be. We’re about twenty, twenty-five minutes from my parents and probably about three from his place. The boys love all the room to run around, plus with five dogs and 4 rabbits, and 2 cats, the extra space is probably a great thing.”
“Holy hell,” I snap, face now staring at his. “That’s a big ass family. How many kids do they have?”
“Together? Just the twins. But, Dawn had three boys of her own when they got together, so five total.”
Another surprised expression appears on my face.
“Big Foot loves those boys like they’re his own, cause to him they are. And none of us treat them any different either. As far as we’re all concerned, he accepted them as his own, which means so should we. They’re family. They deserved to be loved like such.”
“What about their biological dad?”
Ford shrugs. “Not real sure. He’s never popped his face in the picture and Dawn never brings him up. Only one of the boys even remembers him…”
Amazed at Big Foot’s open arms, but appalled at the idea anyone could just abandon children, I simply state, “They’re so much better off with a warm, welcoming family like yours than anywhere else…”
He lets the corner of his mouth kick up. “Would you like to meet the rest of them?”
“Your family?”
“Yeah.”
Fear over the fumbling embarrassment I would be on a much larger scale than I was just a few minutes ago fills my veins. “I don’t know…I mean…what if I say something else crazy or rude or stupid? Do you really want to take that risk? I’m really not good in large groups of people, Farm Boy. I’m as awkward as it gets.”
His head shakes. “You’re as amazing as it gets, Ollie. Learn the difference.”
He abruptly looks away and a thick, dreadful silence nestles between us.
I watch him stare at a spot on the ground, forehead wrinkled in sheer confusion.
My lack of self-esteem upsets him? Him?! Like he’s had to be the one who has spent her life ignore or picked on or spit on for being out of place? He has no idea what it’s like to have to find ways to deal with the fact I’ll most likely never be seen as anything else than a nerd with an okay chest to gawk at.
Quietly, I announce, “I don’t know the difference, Ford.”
He lets his eyes drift to me.
“You keep saying it and every time you do, I feel it might actually be the truth. But you have to understand, I have spent the majority of my life alone. Drawing, creating, those have always been my faithful companions. Daryl was a fluke I latched onto because I was so damn tired of being by myself. I’ve had three boyfriends my entire life and one best friend. Before Camilla people rarely even spoke to me in the office. They’d just email. So you have to be a little patient if you expect me to ever get comfortable with the idea of you wanting to be around me. Of you…wanting me at all.”
Ford’s green eyes fill with so much adoration I feel compelled to look away yet I don’t. “God, Ollie, if only you could see yourself through my eyes. You’d never doubt just how incredible you truly are.”
There’s a small pause followed with a bold question. “Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
His mouth cracks open, obviously stunned my brazenness.
Definitely makes two of us.
He starts to form a reply yet abruptly stops. He repeats his acti
on four times before I whisper, “I don’t have whiskey on my breath this time…”
Ford’s shoulders drop at the reminder.
Is it wrong to wish he would’ve kissed me that night? That instead of spending these past six weeks merely entertaining the idea, we would’ve been living it? Unless of course, the reason we haven’t is indeed because Camilla is right. He just wants to be good friends. Very good friends. I’ll take that deal I guess. I’d rather have part of Ford Shaw than none of him.
Finally, he sits up straight and begins, “I-”
“Got good news,” Big Foot interrupts swiftly stealing our attention. “You two have a constipated pig.”
Romantic…
My head tilts to the side. “Really?”
“Really.” He grins giving her a soothing rub on the head. “No fever. Not lethargic with me. She hasn’t been going as frequently today, has she?”
“No.”
“Yeah, my guess is the little princess is just a bit backed up. If you can get some apple sauce or canned pumpkin, toss a little in with her food, she should back to smelling up your patio in no time.”
The imagery causes me to gag, which makes Ford chuckle. Afterward, he gives our pet the gentlest touch. “You sure it’s not blockage, Big Foot? Did you give her an x-ray?”
He swings the pig away from his baby brother. “Are you seriously standin’ in my clinic askin’ me if I did my job?”
Ford doesn’t back down. “Did you?”
The low grumble is hard to miss.
“I don’t feel like you were in there very long. Did you do everything you should’ve? Did you check it all twice?”
“Runt, you are packin’ a pair on you tonight,” he grouses under his breath. “No. I didn’t put your young hog through the horror of an x-ray. I gave her an ultra sound. She’s fine. No blockage. No fever. No bizarre behaviors while I had her. And in case your ass has forgotten which one of us has the medical degree to determine if my job was done properly or not, let me redirect your attention to the goddamn wall behind you where my degree and my recently renewed license sit.”
He quietly states, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Big Foot.”
“Some fuckin’ takin’, Runt.” The older brother lecture promptly continues, “You are my baby brother. I wouldn’t shaft a normal customer. Damn sure wouldn’t for family and least of all my baby brother who has asked for the least favors out of all of the Shaws, Oliver included.” He tries to calm his tone back to a controlled one and faces me. “Add the apple sauce or pumpkin to her food for a couple days. If the constipation remains or she stops pooping at all, bring her back. Doesn’t matter if it’s 2 a.m. Bring her back here. An untreated blockage could kill her.”
My head bobs in understanding as Princess Pinky wiggles joyfully back into my arms. “You ready to go home? Have some applesauce?”
Her squeaks steal a smirk from everyone’s lips.
“Oh shit.” I snap my head up at Ford. “We need applesauce.”
Big Foot lets out a small laugh. “You know what? We have a shit ton at the house. Why don’t you two just drive over, say a quick hi to Dawn and the boys, and take some of it with you?”
Ford’s face lights up yet he turns to me. “Do you mind? Or would you rather I just stop at the store on the ride home?”
The southern drawl twisted with the sweet pleading to get me sucked more into his world causes me to reluctantly cave. “We can swing by for a minute.”
Our ‘quick visit’ almost instantaneously transform into an extended one. For two hours, the boys take turns holding Princess Pinky, sneaking her treats she doesn’t seem bothered to be eating, and running around outside with her. Thankfully, there’s a fence around the area to keep me from having to worry too hard about her suddenly becoming a wild animal or a wild animal’s after dinner snack. While the boys play, we sit with Dawn who is pencil thin yet almost body builder muscular. Other than the brown eyes she’s seemed to given to all the boys and the speckles of freckles two of them have, there’s no other evidence she’s ever given birth. Like the rest of the Shaw family, she too is something science should study.
They offer us leftovers, which we both devour right alongside a starving Big Foot. He tells us how he skipped lunch, she nags how he didn’t skip lunch he just didn’t have a second helping, and we laugh at their sitcom like moments. Not once, even when the questions turn my direction, do I feel out of place or snubbed. It’s strange, but so wonderful. With each passing laugh and playful exchange, I understand more and more why Ford spends so much time around them. What the hell was wrong with Carol Ann? Who the hell could give up a family like this? And for what? A painfully pale man with a shorter than average dick and Oedipus complex? I think she might need to see a doctor…
Exhausted, I wiggle my feet out of my flats, stretch them out near his cowboy boots, and settle Princess Pinky into the seat beside me. She nuzzles her face on my thigh like a pillow only seconds before she’s completely knocked out.
Ford grins proudly. “I think she just needed a little extra attention.”
“Maybe…” Looking up at him I coo, “Your nephews were amazing with her.”
He nods. “They get that from Big Foot. From the minute he could get those boys around animals he did. Hell, the twins were only six months when he would take them to feed the goats. When I was a kid, it was him who taught me everything I should know about animal sounds…Mama would laugh but let him. I guess when you’ve got a parent willing to feed your passion it makes it easier for you to become one that does.”
The profound thought receives a warm smile of agreement.
Neither of my parents have life altering skills they went on to make a living with. Neither had wild dreams they can recall wanting to follow. Perhaps it’s why they let me go off and chase mine.
“I know you’re tired, but mind if I take the long way home?” He politely asks. “You can even fall asleep like Princess Pinky if you want.”
Not seeing a reason to prevent it, I shrug. “Sure…Go ahead.”
Ford pulls onto the dirt path leading off their property and onto the paved road. He fidgets with the radio, scanning for a mix for me to enjoy. When I suggest he plays me his favorite, he puts on a Luke Bryan playlist and proceeds to explain why. I stretch my arm across the console, rest my head on top of it, shut my eyes, and get lost to the sound of Ford crooning along. His deep voice drags itself across my skin until it’s burrowed into every crevice willing to accept it. Thoughtlessly my body sways to the rhythm, completely forgetting how uncoordinated I am. The car pulls up to what I imagine is a stop light and his fingers slip between mine. A sharp breath makes a haste appearance. To my surprise, he curls them tighter, forcing my somnolent stare up to him.
The light changes color returning his attention to the road.
Unsure of what this means to him, I impatiently wait for the answer.
I’m twenty-nine. Ugh. Fuck. Thirty…I know there are plenty of men and women who hold hands occasionally as friends. I just need to know if we’re one of them. I need to know what we are, so I know how to handle it. I have never dealt with this much uncertainty and I hate it. Much more accustomed to being ignored or rejected for simply smiling too long. That I can process no problem.
I slide my body carefully upwards insuring not to break the hold or disturb the snoring animal beside me. Once I’m completely sitting up, I’m startled at the completely empty town we’re in the middle of. “Where the hell are all the people?”
“Whole place basically shuts down around nine.” He answers cruising along at thirty. “Couple gas stations at each end of the town, and the movie theater we just passed, stay open ‘til midnight, but everything else? Closed.”
“That makes you happy?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” I give the deserted sidewalks another glimpse. “Why does feeling like we’ve entered The Hills Have Eyes part 87 make you happy?”
“Well, when you’re dating the
Sherriff’s daughter you’re less likely to get caught making out in an empty back parking lot since everyone is at home.”
“Classy.”
He tosses me a playful smirk. “Last girl I dated before Carol Ann.”
Her name instantly fills my mouth with a sour taste.
“That’s why I like to drive through this place. Reminds me of life before her. Before I started just settlin’ for whatever it was we were doin’. Before I had…given up on findin’ the right person.” He glides to another stop light. This time when our eyes meet he says, “Before I had to second guess every choice I made, including every time I’ve wanted to kiss you.”