Chapter 10

While it was true that Sundays were my own, for the most part, my Saturdays belonged to someone else.

Since the racecar was in pieces and not back from the body shop, I belonged to dad for the day.

Grandpa Parker was running the disc. Dad was planting, but he still had plans for me.

“I’m going to have you field cultivate about 50 acres of last year’s sorghum,” dad said as he attached the old 4440 to the implement he was talking about.

“Start with the end rows, then just try not to miss any spots,” he imparted. “OH! And stay well away from the fences this time,” he laughed.

“I’m not 12 anymore, dad,” I rolled my eyes at him, remembering his irritation after I’d torn out 20 feet of fence with a cultivator a couple of years ago.

It was a cool morning that promised to turn into a nice day. Mom had packed a small cooler with a Pepsi and a couple of sandwiches. How did I dress for farm work? Wranglers, a T-shirt, beat up high tops and my oldest Chicago Cubs hat. I pulled the big green tractor around our old grove to the north end of our 320-acre half-mile section. Priorities being what they are for a 14-year-old, I tuned the radio from dad’s public radio station to the local rock station.

“Uuuup allll night, sleep all day.” Slaughter was still in heavy rotation, with their debut album still popular.

I felt like I HAD been up all night. It took me some time to go to sleep Friday night. Deedee had thrown me for a loop, and my young mind could not justify the choice I’d made the night before. I woke up at the end of a feverish dream of just how spectacular having sex with her might have been. I woke up with a hardon that could have driven in fence posts.

I reached the edge of the field and dropped the field cultivator in place. I always found the tricky part of field work to be choosing the proper gear and throttle level so the job didn’t take all day, but didn’t make the tractor buck around and leave a mess in the field, or worse, break something. I started out in second gear and shoved the throttle forward with my right hand before I gently let out the clutch. The older, but cabbed, tractor easily took the tines of the field cultivator through the black dirt, tossing up the roots of last year’s sorghum. This wasn’t hard labor, but I’d have to pay attention to what I was doing, for the most part.

Within a couple of minutes, I was at the end of the field near the fence. Now was the time to lift the field cultivator with a hydraulic lever and work my end row runs. Carefully this time, I took it slow and kept it away from the fence. Once I reached the other corner of the field, I took a careful complete turn and made my second end row, plowing up black soil. Birds of all kinds would flock around the dirt behind me, turning up a bounty of worms, bugs and even rodents for their breakfast. Once I had my end rows done, it was back to the grind, running slowly back and forth through the field with nothing to disturb me but the radio and my own thoughts.

Scorpions, “The Wind of Change,” had me feeling reflective. The song was based on the political upheaval of Europe at the end of the cold war, and the stormy reunification of Germany, but I wasn’t a political kid. It just made me think of the changes I’d been through in the last year. Changes had come even more quickly in the last couple of months.

I was happy to have a girlfriend. I was even happy it was Deedee. But I had to wonder if I might be dating someone else if I were left to my own devices. What if it took me summoning up the courage to ask someone out? Who would I go after? Who had been flirting with me? I should have asked Shelby who was asking about me.

I didn’t have any answers. Sure there were girls I found very attractive, even moderately attractive. What would I be up to if Lexie hadn’t seen me that Monday morning and pounced?

I was pretty sure that if it were up to me, it would be the start of our sophomore year before I would have been dating. Maybe Lexie had done me a favor after all.

R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” had me reaching up to the change the channel. Roxette’s “Joyride” was on another channel. Certainly not my favorite, but I simply couldn’t stand Michael Stipe’s singing. Of course, the song hit close to home. I had indeed lost my religion.

Under a clear blue sky out in God’s country, a 14-year-old tilled the soil and contemplated the meaning of life. You don’t often think too far ahead as a teen, but you have some sort of inkling of the direction your life might take someday. You have some aspirations of a career, marriage, kids, the picket fence and the big white house. All that had been wiped from my mind on Christmas Day. I no longer had that compass at the back of my mind driving me on to some predetermined life goals. I’d gone into a shell and simply existed for a few months. I didn’t think deeply because I couldn’t bear to.

This time alone in the tractor allowed such deep thinking again. I wasn’t in all that pain anymore. What was marriage? Did I want to marry someone someday? I loved my parents, and they seemed to have a pretty good marriage. Their focus seemed to be on keeping the farm going and raising two kids without messing them up too much. My own compass was pointed in that same direction not all that long ago. Now it simply wasn’t.

Did I love Deedee? I couldn’t say that I did. I sure loved being with her. I loved our intimate time together. But was I in love with her? No. Could I fall in love with her down the road? Maybe. I resolved to treat her as well as I could, but I would not express feelings of love to her. That wouldn’t be fair. That would be leading her on. But thoughts like that bring an unknown expiration date to a relationship. It’s going to end. We just don’t know when.

There was no pain at the thought of not being with her. There was no anguish at the idea of losing her. I liked her, and I didn’t plan to leave her anytime soon, but my heart and head seemed to be in agreement for once. I liked her plenty, but I didn’t exactly pine for her. I felt a little bad about that, but I also felt mature once again. I was able to keep perspective on my feelings and keep myself in check. I’d learned something through months of pain after all.

Friday night had also clarified something else for me. I realized Deedee had much stronger feelings for me than I had for her. Was that just me being cautious? Was that fair to her? Should I open my heart more to her? Those thoughts made me shake my head.

‘You’re 14, idiot. Enjoy your time with her and keep it casual. You’re not ready for another roller coaster ride.’

It was like the combination of my own inner dialogue, mom and Shelby’s insistence speaking to me all at once. Whoever planted the idea in my head, they were probably right.

I’d made many passes over the field, each barely overlapping the other as I turned part of our land over for a new crop. I’d reached past the halfway point and noticed the clock showed 11:40. I opened my cooler, cracked the Pepsi open and set it in the cup holder. Then I pulled out one sandwich and peeled the baggie halfway down it, holding it by the plastic so my dirty hands wouldn’t contaminate the bread.

Ham, cheese, and mayo on white bread. Mom knew me so well. I chomped away as I kept driving the tractor with my left hand.

I had to admire the work I’d done through the field already. You feel pretty mature as a teen doing a man’s work. It also gave me confidence behind the wheel of a car or truck. Nope, no city kid enjoyed what I was offered today. The chance to work, learn, mature and even some time to think alone.

My Pepsi and my sandwiches were gone and I tilled the last virgin part of the field just before 2 p.m. I parked the tractor and shut it down. Mom had finished mowing our big lawn, stepping off the riding mower. It was a sunny, warm, late May day and the sky was a gorgeous blue with a few wispy clouds floating lazily by.

“You done out there?” mom asked warmly, blowing a stray blade of grass out of her face.

“Yeah, was no problem. Hope dad’s happy with it.”

“Oh, Marcus called around noon. Said to call him at about 4:30 if you want to do something with him tonight.”

“That OK with you, mom?”

“Oh sure. You should spend more time with your friends while you can. Your Saturday nights are going to be busy soon.”

“OK, I might take a nap before I call him.”

On a day such as this, only the hammock slung between two old maple trees in the side yard would do. I cleaned a few leaves out of it and carefully laid in. It was chained in place at each corner of the hammock, so I wasn’t going to spin out of the thing.

Motes of sunlight peered through the leaves of the tall trees as a gentle breeze blew through the farm. I briefly wished I had grabbed a book as I often did when I sat out in the hammock, but I was at total, tired peace and figured I could get in a quick nap.

I pulled my ball cap down my forehead and let sleep take me in minutes.

I was awakened rudely to a thud of solid weight against my body, a tickle to my stomach and a peal of giggles. My first groggy thoughts were that my annoying little brother had hopped into the hammock with me, but as I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see how wrong I was.

“SHELBY! What are you doing here?” I grabbed her wrist as soon as I could get ahold of it, fending off her tickles. She held me down with surprising strength.

“Dad’s using your welder. He broke his fence post driver,” she shrugged. “I came along to see what you were up to. Which is ‘nothing,’ as usual,” she teased.

“I’ll have you know,” I said in irritation as I pulled up the brim of my cap. “I just got done field cultivating 50 acres.”

“Big deal, tractor boy,” she teased, shoving me over to make room on the hammock. “I mucked out stalls all morning.”

“You smell like it,” I teased, wrinkling my nose at her and sniffing the air.

She leaned up and cuffed me in the chest, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

I moved my left arm over as a peace offering and she cuddled her head into my bicep.

“So how was your big date last night?” she asked airily, her warm body curling up against me.

“We didn’t have a date. We were just going to the ball game,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Is that how it’s going to be today?” she asked with irritation in her voice. “Do I have to tickle every detail out of you?”

“Nah, that won’t be necessary,” I held my hands up defensively. “We didn’t see much of the game.”

“I figured as much,” she nodded. “It sounded like Deedee had big plans for you Friday night.”

“That so?”

“That was the rumor,” Shelby shrugged.

“Interesting,” I breathed.

As if she were on the phone and not lying against me, I went ahead gave Shelby a full recap of the night. She politely held all questions until I was done.

“So wait, first she said she didn’t trust being naked with you, then later she asked you to go all the way?”

“Yeah, I was confused too.”

“And you really said ‘no?’”

“Well, I don’t think I ever technically said ‘no.’ I just reminded her that I promised her earlier and I slowed her down to make her think about it.”

“Really?” Shelby asked in confusion.

“Yeah, really. Why?”

“You’re like a Boy Scout,” she said with a sigh. “Or an idiot,” she giggled.

“An idiot Boy Scout?” I grumbled.

“No! I was kidding. You did a good thing. I’m proud of you! There’s all this pressure on girls to be all ‘pure’ and we get all emotional about sex stuff and it’s harder for us than for boys. You boys just stick it in someone and move on. You could have taken advantage of her, but you didn’t. You did the right thing,” she nodded.

“Where exactly does your expertise on this subject come from?” I asked dubiously.

“Are you asking me how I know what it’s like to be a girl?” she practically growled.

“No,” I snorted. “The sex part.”

She was quiet for a few moments, looking me in the eye and tightening her jaw, deep in thought.

“Jacob, what do you see when you look at me?”

I could feel her body tense against me.

“What do you mean?” I stalled.

“When you look at me,” she said slowly. “What do you see?”

Did she think arranging the words of the question in a different order would make it more clear to me? I knew how I answered this would be important. I turned and looked into her piercing blue, impassive eyes.

“I see my best friend since I was little. I see my rock. I see the only person I trust to tell everything to.”

She looked at me and a tear formed at her eyelash.

“I see someone I care about very much,” my voice cracked slightly. I was starting to get myself emotional at those thoughts.

She seemed to contemplate my answer while looking at the blue sky.

“Was that the right answer?” I asked.

“It wasn’t a bad answer,” she shrugged, still in deep thought. “Jacob, that’s the first time you’ve ever asked me anything personal about my sex life.”

She hit me out of nowhere with that. And it was true. I never noticed before that all of our talk about sex was centered around my sex life. We never talked about her.

“Oh, God,” I winced. “I’m the worst best friend in the world...”

“You’re not,” she shook her head. “It takes two.”

“Then I have work to do to keep it fair. I have to make sure you talk too.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “I can’t.”

“I don’t understand, Shelby. If I can tell you everything, why can’t you?”

“Because you don’t understand,” she said firmly. “I can’t tell you because you don’t understand.”

“Besides,” she deflected. “I don’t have a sex life to talk about.”

“We talked about these things before I had a sex life,” I countered. “We talked about puberty. We showed each other stuff. You talked all the time. I think you told me when you had your first period before you told your mom.”

I paused remembering something important.

“You were my first real kiss!”

“We were like five, Jacob.”

“Not then,” I whispered. “The stock pond? We went swimming? You were my first real kiss. You wanted to practice. We were like 13 and 12.”

She closed her eyes, maybe taking a trip back in time.

“I’m going to feel very hurt if you don’t remember that kiss...”

“You don’t NEED an ego boost, Jacob,” She admonished a bit bitterly, cutting me off. “Of course I remember it. It was my first real kiss too. You know that.”

“Then what changed?” I let the question float the short distance between us.

“I don’t know,” she answered quietly. “Probably Melody.”

It was the first time she’d said that name to me in five months. It hurt, but not because of what happened. What hurt was the realization of what it meant.

“Do you feel like we can’t be close friends when I have a girlfriend?”

“God, Jacob, that’s when you need me most. To keep your stupid head on straight,” she mashed her eyes closed, refusing to open them now.

“Shelby, I just want to know how I can be the best friend I can be.”

She abruptly hopped out of the hammock, facing away from me and leaving me rocking in place.

“If you want to be the best friend you can be, see something different when you see me,” she said, her voice cracking.

“What does that mean?” I asked feebly, sitting up in the hammock and taking her hand.

She slapped my hand away, spun on her heel and snapped at me. “It means when you see ME, see a GIRL. See a YOUNG WOMAN. Maybe even see a PRETTY young woman. Don’t just see LITTLE BRITCHES!”

My eyes were wide and I jerked back like I’d been slapped.

She looked at me in horror, covering her mouth in both hands like she wanted to pull back every word that had escaped her mouth.

“I didn’t MEAN that!” Her eyes were wide and tears were flowing freely. “You didn’t say anything wrong. You said I was your rock and your best friend and you said you care about me,” she said in rapid succession.

She turned away in obvious pain again. I reached out for her, but she stepped out of my grasp.

“I just got selfish...” she said quietly. “I got selfish. Please forgive me.”

“Shelby, I feel like the selfish one if this is a one-way best friendship.”

“It’s not,” she said, her arms around herself, still facing away from me. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“Shelby, I...”

“I don’t want to bawl all afternoon, Jacob,” she said quietly. “Let’s get together another time and maybe we can talk more?”

“My Sundays are my own,” I gave the best smile I could.

“Call me,” she said, turning to me. “I’m not sure I can talk about this on the phone yet, but don’t you disappear on me.”

“I would never do that,” I shook my head at her.

“I know,” she nodded. “That’s why you’ll always be my best friend.”

“Everything OK out there?” mom asked as I came inside to call Marcus, er, The Beast.

“Yeah, I guess,” I answered quickly.

“I couldn’t help but hear some of your conversation through the window, Jacob, I wasn’t listening in, she was yelling,” mom arched an eyebrow.

“It’s um, it’s complicated.”

“With you, and a girl, it always is,” mom teased lightly.

“Moooom!”

“I’m sorry, Jakey. I didn’t mean to tease you. Just know that girls are sensitive and, like you said, complicated. Shelby’s been your best friend forever, but she might not be patient enough to wait you out.”

“Wait me out?”

Mom cocked an eyebrow at me, then paused in thought.

“Has Shelby ever had a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” mom asked. “She’s a pretty girl. She punched some boy who had a crush on her. Why do you suppose she’s never had a boyfriend?”

“I, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Jacob, she only has eyes for you. Whether you think of her that way or not, she does. She’s been smitten with you since you two were old enough to walk, maybe before.”

The breath escaped my lungs and I dropped my head down. How stupid could I be? How dense could I possibly be? I knew it was all true. Why did I never see it?

“She’s never told you, has she?”

“No...” I looked up at mom with a tear in my eye. “What do I do?”

“Oh, Jacob, I can’t tell you what to do. You have to figure that out yourself.”

“I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to DO!”

I didn’t want to cry and I didn’t want to yell at my mom, but my emotions were going overboard.

“Shhhhh, Jake, it’s OK. I tell you what, just listen,” mom put her hand on my shoulder.

“You have to decide how you feel, maybe not today, and certainly not while you’re dating Deandra,” mom tilted her head.

“Just be very careful with Shelby. You could lose your best friend and a possible girlfriend all at once. You have to be careful, and don’t run away from her now that you know how she feels.”

“Right,” I said flatly. “I never go to you for advice often enough. Thank you.”

I felt immediately better.

“I’m always here for you, Jake. You’re dad is always here for you. Shelby has always been there for you too. Remember that,” mom nodded firmly.

I thanked mom again and decided I had a lot to think about. I went to my room, shut the door and fell back on my bed.

“Jake, it’s Marcus on the phone.”

Mom woke me from my doorway. Mentally exhausted, I’d fallen asleep. My alarm clock said 5:05. Crap! I’d forgotten to call Beast.

I got up and hurried to the phone.

“Hey, sorry I forgot to call.”

“Hey, slugger.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I rolled my eyes, not that he could see it. “When were you planning to leave. And what are we doing?”

“Very soon-ish, I was hoping,” Beast said. “And we’ll talk about where we’re going when I get there.”

“OK, then,” I said dubiously. “I’ll take a very fast shower.”

I hurriedly grabbed clothes to go out and charged to the bathroom for a shower. I simply couldn’t afford to get lost in my thoughts in the shower, so I kept the temperature low. A surprising amount of the field I had tilled was now on the floor of the shower. I put a second round of shampoo through my hair just to be sure, rinsed and got out.

I quickly brushed, applied deodorant and added a little gel to my hair, giving it a bit of a wave.

I looked pretty good, I decided. Mental anguish or not, I was at least confident with the knowledge that yet another girl had the hots for me, complex as that might make my life. Still, I knew I should try to go out and forget about it for tonight.

I threw on my best long-sleeved shirt, maybe for the last time before summer, then pulled up my pants and headed to to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was a sleek black Monte Carlo waiting in the driveway.

Crap! I hurriedly put my shoes on.

“Mom! I gotta go!”

“OK, be good!”

I ran out the garage door, and Trent Turner (Tree), stepped out of the passenger seat and pushed it forward for me to climb into the back. Being the shortest of this crew meant I was always going to be in the back seat.

“Thanks for not leaving without me,” I gasped, breathing hard.

Beast turned to me with his hand up as Tree sat back down and shut his door. High fives were doled out, and the Monte Carlo was rolling back from my house for a turn down the driveway.

“We wouldn’t leave without you,” Beast quipped. “You’re our good luck charm tonight.”

“Good luck? I said dubiously. I struggled to think of someone with worse luck over the last six months.

“Good things happen when you’re around, Parker.”

With that, Beast sped off down the driveway and turned up his stereo. He had a tape he’d no doubt put together himself playing Snap’s “Power.” It was giving his subwoofers a workout. Beast tended to spend money on a sound system where I didn’t even plan to mess with my car’s audio at all.

Tree was enjoying the tunes either way.

“Where are we going?” I yelled over the din of the music.

“Clutch is having another party. The one you were at was a warmup.”

“Is it a kegger this time?”

“No, but my sister has us set up.”

Pantera’s “Cowboys From Hell” made a surprisingly good transition from “Power.”

I leaned back in the middle of the back seat and leaned my head back with my hands on my forehead.