Chapter 15

Paul’s turn:

Life has been pretty smooth of late, approaching a dream-like idyllic state that I thought I’d achieved when I first stepped out of the workaday world and decided that between inheritance, my own savings, and the money I could drag in from writing, I had enough.

If I didn’t get crazy and start chasing expensive toys, I was set up.

Then Barb happened. Barb. My Barbakitten. Barbakitty. Barbacat. Redheaded little force of nature. Quirky (I’m bent!) personality and intelligence that refuses to be measured.

Yet measure it, we will. We have a date circled on the calendar where I’m supposed to transport her into town, drop her at a high school where she’ll join a herd of other students to take the SAT. Scholastic Aptitude Test, it used to be called before somebody decided that the name had too many syllables.

Barb will likely be the youngest in the herd, the test being part of the ‘go to high school, then onward to college’ paradigm.

Somewhere in her daily regimen of writing and sharing housework and an entirely surprising desire for intimate relations, Barb’s been on line. At first it was to flesh out ‘studies’ we were doing under the umbrella of ‘home schooling’. Didn’t take long, though, for me and her Gramma to look at the curriculum and determine that Barb was already there.

The online searches let her dive in to college-level math and language. All this since the end of summer. Two months.

“Don’t burn yourself out,” her Gramma had told her. Her Gramma went on to admonish me. “Paul, she’s pushing too hard.”

Me trying to move a boulder, I might push too hard and strain myself. Same boulder, swap my human carcass out for an entry-level bulldozer? A loud blat of exhaust note, a plume of diesel smoke, and the boulder’s out of the way. That would be Barb when she set her mind to it.

Math? In the last week I’ve been tapping away at my keyboard while she’s been on the phone with an MIT math professor talking about functions that caused me cold sweats as an engineering student. Her side? “But Doctor Schwadlich, that means we can condense these steps from seven to two...”

I asked her about the subject after she completed her call with a smile on her face. “What was that about?”

“He had this problem in the lesson, wanted me to work step by step through my arrival at a solution. His had seven steps. I saw a way to do it in two.”

“He bought it?”

“Well, yeah...”

“You went toe to toe with a college math professor and beat him?”

“I don’t look at it as beating him. We just had different approaches. I convinced him that mine was valid.”

“Ouch!”

On my side of the domestic equation, before I left my previous employment I’d been involved in a pretty big project – strictly on paper, you must understand. The output of my efforts was enveloped into a big package along with the efforts of a bunch of other engineers and was handed off to the client.

I was proud of my work. But there’s another side to the story. No good deed goes unpunished.

Brad Steen, the manager for whom I worked, has been calling lately. “Paul, we’ll make it worth your while.”

“Brad, I wasn’t the lead electrical engineer. Why don’t you use him?”

“He says he’s too old to do on-site work and he’s ready to retire.”

“He’s been ready to retire for the last three years,” I laughed.

“He says if I assign him to that project, he’s gone.”

“I’ve BEEN gone.”

“Yeah, and we’ve been paying you piece-work for your technical writing. We just need your eyes onsite during construction ... We’ll pay...”

“I don’t need the money. I’ve got a situation here, taking care of a teen.”

“Think about it. I’ll email you a proposal.”

I don’t want to be brusque. He’s a nice guy. Good boss. I left on good terms and they had indeed paid me to do some technical documentation. “Okay. I’ll look at it.”

Looking at me while I was talking was my teen.

“They’re still trying?”

“Yep.”

“What’re you going to look at?”

“They’re sending me a proposal.”

“If I wasn’t here, you could take it.”

“And you ARE here and given the choice between Barb and more money, I choose Barb.”

“Maybe you don’t have to make a choice. You’re my Paul and we can stand an adventure.”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the bible say? Ruth? “Whither thou goest, I will go”? That’s me, if I am indeed your mate.”

“Baby, the job’s in west Texas. ‘Desolate’ comes to mind. Three months or so.”

“Apartment?” she posed. “Or ... I know! Travel trailer.”

“Let’s see what they offer before we start packing bags. Besides – SAT.”

“We can always reschedule. It’s in two weeks, anyway.”

The next day we were both looking at the email. Start date in three weeks. That takes care of the SAT issue. Schedule was Monday through Friday. I knew that was right up there with “one size fits all” and “the check’s in the mail” on the scale of promises, but whatever ... The pay was hefty. Really hefty.

Barb looked at me. “That’s a lot. And per diem. They offer you per diem that’s more than a lot of people make with regular pay.”

“They’re trying hard, baby...”

Her regular evening phone call to her grandparents featured a discussion of the possible change in our situation. Pros and cons went back and forth.

Shortly after Barb hung up, my phone rang. Hank.

“Yessir,” I answered.

“Look, son,” he said. “I just want to emphasize that Beck and I are happy with you and Barb. Are you seriously considering this is permanent?”

“Yessir.”

“I’ve just been talking with a man. Might have a development for you two. Lemme do a little more work here.”

“What kind of development?”

“Like marriage.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. And your trip to West Texas?”

“Yessir.”

“I’d jump on it if I were you. Barb goes with you, of course.”

“Naturally.”

“Don’t start fretting. We’re talking with one of the old guys we play bridge with. He’s a judge and he’s telling me interesting things.”

“I won’t fret, then, Hank.”

After I hung up, Barb asked me, “Something about a judge?”

“He mentioned it. Sounded cryptic.”

“So did Gramma. She asked me if I was sure I was mature enough to make a lifelong commitment.”

“I hope you are, because if somebody wanted to, they could pretty well fix me for life in unpleasant conditions.”

“I know, baby. I ask myself why you think I’m even worth it.” Serious look on her sweet face.

I scooped her into my arms, squeezed until she squealed. “Because you’re so darned perfect that it hurts,” I told her. “Absolutely perfect.”

Giggle. “You get to say that. Now, though, let’s talk about this trip thing.”

“You wanna talk about that NOW? I got the perfect female in my arms...”

“And she wants to talk.”

“Awwwww!”

“You’re sooo neglected.”

“I know.” I eased her down on the sofa, hands trailing across parts that would get me jailed for molestation. “So let’s talk.”

“I think we look at travel trailers.”

“Why not apartments? Short-term lease or straight rental?”

“Both have a pros and cons,” she said. “But the travel trailer, we OWN it. Drag it there. Drag it back. It’s OURS. You finally have a reason for that horribly big pickup truck. We park it there, live in it while you work. Bring it home. When we decide we need to see something besides the Gulf of Mexico, off we go. Or, heaven forbid, a hurricane...”

“RV parks are unknowns as far as other occupants.”

She fixed me in her gaze. “And apartments aren’t?”

“I’ll concede that point.”

“I’ve been inside a few travel trailers. We don’t have to buy a rolling Taj Mahal or Chinese bordello...”

I blurted a laugh. “I can give you Taj Mahal, but where did ‘Chinese bordello’ come from?”

“Reading too many books without pictures.”

“So you’re pretty much on board with the idea of me taking that project?”

“I am. I signed on with you for better or worse, buddy. Show me an adventure.”

The next day two things happened. First, I made my old boss happy, accepting the job. “I want a signed contract, Brad.”

“You got it. Have it in my office Friday.”

Second thing – drove to an RV sales lot. Made notes. Then another. More notes. And a third. We’re writing a book.

Home. Discuss. Compare. Finally found one that was equally distant between Taj Mahal and Chinese bordello. My tiny lot beach house lot not only has room to park it here but Dad had specified hookups for an RV.

Next day, call the dealer and announce our selection, then call the bank.

Two days later, drive to the dealership and drag our new little home back with us. First order of business after unhitching from my truck was to plug the electrical cord in. Last thing I want to do is leave a new trailer to the gulf coast humidity. I opened the door, checked to make sure that the A/C was running. Yes, we’re almost at the winter solstice, but Louisiana weather is notorious for ‘heater in the morning, air conditioner in the afternoon’, and I wanted to pull the humidity out of the interior.

Of course I have my muse with me. I turned in time to get pushed.

“There has to be a first time, Paul...”

Indeed there must. An almost frantic, sticky, heavy breathing, sighing first time. Ended up with a pair of satisfied blue eyes inches from my own.

“This is going to be just fine,” she told me. “Just me and you. Plenty of room. Satellite dish.” Smirk. “And that’s not our only option for entertainment.”

“We’ll make it work. We need to build a load-out list.”

“We’re not exactly doing an Antarctic expedition. If we forget something, we can just go buy it.”

“Yeah, I know, but if we already have it, we’ll bring it with us.” I coursed a hand over that taut ass. “And we have a big bed upstairs.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Her SAT session is on a Saturday. I asked her if she was nervous.

“I either know this stuff or I don’t. If I do well, I’m way ahead of the game. If I don’t, I’m still ahead of the game because I’m home-schooled and I lead at my own pace instead of listening to a teacher explain it fourteen times to people who won’t ever get it or know what to do with it if they did.”