Chapter 23

FRIDAY, JUNE 7, 1991

I did something I had never done for a girl before. I wrote her some little notes.

Sappy? Silly? Romantic? Maybe a little of all of the above, but Deedee was going to be gone for more than two weeks with little chance for contact, and I wanted to stay connected to her. She was a very good girlfriend, and I wanted to keep her that way.

The idea was simple. I grabbed a stack of 17 Post-It notes. On the first note, I wrote: “For Deedee every day. Please peel off one note each day of your vacation. Don’t look ahead, just read something from me each day you’re away. I’ll miss you. XOXO-Jake.”

Each note was for a specific day. I talked about what I would doing, what fun I hoped she would be having, and how much I would miss her. The notes were definitely a step forward for me in our relationship, but I wanted her to know what she meant to me. I put the stack in an envelope and made my way to the pool just after lunch.

I skipped stopping at Mike’s and headed right to the pool. Once inside, I headed right out to find Deedee.

There she was, again near the diving board. She looked bored as she swung her whistle and lanyard around her fingers in one direction, then reversed and swung it back the other way. She had her aviators on, with the red one-piece and a white hoodie covering her top. She hid under the hot sun, keeping her freckled skin as safe as she could.

Her mouth popped open and her dimples showed when she saw me. I didn’t want to bother her, but I told her to come find me on her break. She nodded with a big smile.

I picked an open lounger near some classmates. Mitch and I had patched things up since the Tuesday night game at our next practice. He realized he was way too hard on me, and apologized. Mitch, Lexie, Mandy, Woody and Allison were all tanning at the time. We made small talk and talked about how our summers were going. Woody was pressing me about attending another party, just to give more tips. I grinned and blushed and said no party was needed if anyone had questions. The pool still wasn’t the place.

And then my stunning redheaded girlfriend practically leaped into my lounger with me.

“Hey baby,” she husked, giving me a quick peck on the lips.

“Good to see you,” I smiled.

She touched me on the chin dimple and grinned, blushing a little.

“I’m gonna miss you,” I pouted.

“Me too,” she pouted back.

“Oh my God, my teeth are going to fall out,” Mandy grumped. “They are too sweet.”

We paid her no mind for the moment, trying to soak up time with each other before we would be parted. We just looked at each other, smiled, chatted a little and enjoyed each other’s company.

Before her break ended, I broke out the envelope.

“I have something for you that I hope you’ll take along with you.”

“What is it?” she beamed.

“Inside is a note for each day we’re apart. Just read one every day,” I said with a little husk in my voice.

“That’s so nice,” she cooed. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s OK, just come back to me?” I asked, giving her a little hug.

A couple of tears fell from her long lashes and she wiped them away quickly.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she whined.

“It’s OK,” I whispered, and held her tight.

She had to go. She squeezed me tight one last time before scurrying off to bring her unopened envelope to the locker room. She came back out composed and headed to another lifeguard chair.

I hung out with friends, spent a little time in the water, applied some sunscreen to my face and shoulders and just relaxed away a beautiful Friday afternoon.

Deedee and I got together before I had to leave. I gave her one more long hug and told her I’d miss her.

She shook away one more tear and let me go, giving me a sad smile as I rode off.

I spent the whole ride home on the gravel thinking about her and what I had written on that last note.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1990

There was no snow on the ground, but there was a need for a winter jacket. It was cold. I went with a gray coverall from the farm, a stocking cap and a good, warm pair of gloves to go with my winter mud boots.

We arrived at grandpa’s farm yard to organize the drive. Dad put his Kawasaki ATV in the back of the truck. We pulled ramps out from underneath it and set them up on the tailgate. Dad backed it down the ramps and kept it idling to keep it warm.

Rich Ray had already pulled in, and he and Shelby had saddled horses inside their trailer. Shelby was wrapped up in a jacket and long scarf under her cowgirl hat, making her look like some kind of outlaw. I gave her a look a giggle. She flipped me the bird.

My uncle James, married to dad’s sister, was there to help. He’d drive his pickup, and another of dad’s friends, Allen, would drive the other. Their job was to get out ahead of us and block road intersections before we arrived. Dad would block any field entrances that were open by getting there fast with the ATV, while Rich and Shelby drove the lagging cows onward from behind with the horses. Grandpa would lead the whole operation from his pickup at the head of the drive. The cattle knew his truck, and he’d throw out entire ears of corn from time to time to encourage the cows. Deep ditches and barbed wire fence lines would keep order for the most part.

Grandpa talked us through where we’d be taking the cattle. We’d go from a farm field about eight miles away. He’d gone and closed up what open gates he could along the route. We wouldn’t be crossing any highways today.

Wait, what was my job?

Ride with grandpa and watch any open gates dad missed, and throw out corn.

‘Great.’

Once the plan was in place, we hustled to the open field eight miles away. Grandpa had gotten the attention of the cattle that morning with some fresh feed at the waterer. The whole herd, about 120, were huddled together, seemingly waiting to get things going. Some of these cows had gone on this journey 5-6 times and seemed to know what was coming. They were moo-ing and bellowing in what I assume was bovine excitement.

Rich pulled in, and he and Shelby unloaded their horses and mounted up.

Dad hustled ahead on the quad. I knew he enjoyed his job. I climbed into the back of grandpas old F-150 and settled in with a couple of big bushel baskets of corn.

“Toss ‘em a couple,” grandpa drawled. He had some corn inside the truck to throw out as well.

I did so, tossing the corn like grenades to the front of the herd. Their excitement was almost palpable as they moved forward as a group, heading to grandpa’s cream-colored truck.

“Here they come,” he called and let the clutch out a little, moving the old Ford forward.

The herd streamed ahead, two picking up the full ears of corn to chew as they continued on. Grandpa drove slowly, right out the gate and the entire herd seemed to be following.

Rich and Shelby waited patiently as we slowly rolled down the gravel road, more than 100 cows in tow, looking for a treat as they headed down the road.

The last few stragglers left the field, and Rich and Shelby followed. Rich hopped off his mount, handed the reigns to Shelby and closed the gate. He caught up to her and climbed his mount once again to follow the herd.

Both were experienced riders, but little skill was needed for this. They’d simply trot behind and keep the slowest cows moving along. Cattle were generally suspicious of horses, and people riding them didn’t help.

For my part, I kept tossing out a fresh ear of dried corn every 20 seconds or so. It kept them coming. I was of the opinion that they would have followed without the corn, but it kept them interested. I had a great view of the entire operation from the back of the pickup. I could see the whole herd and the horses at the back, plus I could see well ahead, where two pickups were already waiting at the first intersection.

James and Allen were chatting as we pulled up, but they split up to each cover a side of the intersection, keeping the cattle in line. Grandpa moved through quickly to keep their attention.

“More corn!” he intoned from the relative warmth of the truck.

I doubled my efforts, tossing out more golden grenades of corn. We had no issues, even passing dad in an open field entrance. Dad held his arms out there, standing in front of the running ATV to keep the cattle out of that field.

At the next intersection, you guessed it. James and Allen were waiting for us again. The slow speed of the operation gave them time to drive around the one-mile section to the next intersection before we got there.

Then the hiccup occured. Grandpa spotted an open field driveway that dad wouldn’t be able to get to.

“You’re going to have to jump out and cover that one!”

I didn’t give grandpa a chance to come to a complete stop as I jumped out of the rolling truck and did a quick barrel roll in the gravel and came up running on my feet to get to the field entrance before the herd did.

“You OK?” he laughed.

I shrugged and stood in front of the field driveway with a smile.

He took over tossing some corn out of his window and kept up his slow pace.

The cattle paid me little mind as they mindlessly followed the bovine in front of them, trotting toward some promised land of grass and hay.

The last of them trotted past and I greeted my best friend on her horse.

“Better hop on,” she smiled, holding her left hand out to me.

I didn’t have another option, other than walking the next four miles, so I took her hand and put my left foot in her open stirrup and climbed onto the horse behind her.

She kicked my foot back and put her foot back in the stirrup.

“Keep your heels out of Destiny’s flanks, unless you want to go for a ride,” she warned with a grin.

Awkwardly, I gripped Shelby around the hips to keep from falling off the back of her mare, and kept my ankles out at an angle to keep from kicking her spirited mare.

“Ooooh, keep me warm. Earn your ride,” she teased.

Rich looked over and laughed at my predicament.

“You could let me be up front,” I complained.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” she teased.

“I can ride,” I shot back.

“You can ride just fine back there,” she giggled.

At the next intersection, I hopped off the horse and climbed into the GMC with uncle James.

We chatted for a few minutes as he hustled his truck around the section to the next mile ahead. Allen met us there and we prepared to block off the intersection just as grandpa rolled up.

He stopped just long enough for me to jump back into the bed of this truck and let the clutch out once again, leading the herd toward home.

I took over corn tossing duties, waving at dad in a field driveway as he seemed to wonder where I’d gone off to for a couple of miles.

We repeated the process until grandpa drove into the open gates of his pasture land, right near the watering tank. He pulled well into the field until the last of the stragglers was herded in by our mounted help. Grandpa turned around and headed back to the gate.

I jumped out there, and grandpa gave Rich a ride back to the first field so he could bring his truck and trailer back for the horses. We tied the horses near grandpas horses, they greeted each other through the fences, sniffing and nipping.

We milled around and chatted while waiting for them. Grandma had made chili, and no one was going to be allowed to leave until they had a bowl.

We waited in the heated garage, where grandma had set up a couple of long church tables. We were getting served our first bowl when grandpa and Rich came back in laughing.

“He jumped out before I could stop, did a complete roll and came up on his feet running.”

Rich was doubled over laughing, apparently at my expense.

“You should have seen him on the back of the horse with Shelby,” he roared in laughter.

I was no ranch hand, but at least I was athletic.

Shelby and I tucked away at the end of the table to have chili and chat.

“Your grandma makes good chili,” she admitted.

“Could be spicier,” I shrugged. “But tell her you like it all the same. Makes her day.”

“Of course,” Shelby giggled, then changed her tone entirely.

“She call yet?”

I’d almost stopped thinking about Mel. Keeping busy was helping.

“Nope,” I said dejectedly.

“Have you called her?”

“No...”

“Why not?”

“Ugh!” I groaned at my friend. “I called her Sunday. Her mom answered and said she was too sick and that she’d call me back when she felt better.”

“But it’s been like a week?”

“I’m fully aware of how long it’s been!” I snapped at poor Shelby, silencing the garage.

“Sorry,” I apologized to the room.

“Sorry,” I offered to Shelby.

“Quit being sorry and call her,” she said flatly, taking a bite of chili. “Mmm, this is SO good.”

“Her mom said she’d call when she felt better.”

“How long are you willing to wait for that to happen while you sit and worry about her?”

“I don’t know...”

Shelby gave me a meaningful look and leaned in close to me.

“If you were my boyfriend and hadn’t called since last Sunday, I’d say you were a pussy.”

I raised my eyebrows at her rather frank assessment of my fortitude.

“You’re not Mel and Mel’s mom is not your mom,” I said in disagreement.

“But you, Jake, are still you,” she emphasized with a final spoonful of chili, pointing it at me accusingly before slipping the spoon past her lips with a flourish.

Shelby hopped up abruptly and left me to my thoughts while she chatted up my grandma for a moment, and filled another half bowl of the chili.

Was she right? Was I doing the wrong thing giving her space? Did I just need to man up and dial the phone?

Shelby had the right advice, just maybe not the way I wanted to hear it. Maybe I needed to hear it that way anyway.

Things broke up and we all went our separate ways. Grandma, grandpa and dad thanked everyone for their help. Dad and I stowed the quad in the back of the truck and we headed home.

I didn’t waste another minute once we got home. I shed my coverall and cold-weather gear and dialed Mel’s number right away.

I practically held my breath as I listened to each ring. Eight rings. Nine rings. Ten rings.

I was about to hang up when the answering machine picked up.

“You’ve reached the Rogers. Please leave a message,” a pleasant older male voice repeated. It was Mel’s dad’s voice.

“Um, hi, this is Jake Parker. I’m sorry to call, but I haven’t heard from Melody, and I’m really worried about her. Could you please have her give me a call when she can? Thanks...”

I hung up the phone not feeling much better than I had before I dialed. But at least I did something. I did what I could.

I left another message Saturday, but no call came Saturday or Saturday night. I wasn’t quite depressed, but I was a little morose.

I hadn’t looked forward to going to church on a Sunday since, well, since never. Sunday morning I was eager to see if the Rogers family would be there.

They were not. That wasn’t all that unusual, as they attended as often as they didn’t.

But I had gotten my hopes up and been crushed once again. When we got home, I changed out of the church clothes and glumly set the table for a big noon meal. Mom had a couple of chickens roasting in the oven with some vegetables. It smelled incredible, but I didn’t have much of an appetite.

We all sat down to eat the meal. I picked at my food quietly until it happened.

The phone rang.

As startling as it was, it didn’t immediately register with me for a moment. Then it hit me.

“I GOT IT!”

I raced to the phone and fumbled the receiver, quickly putting it up to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked breathlessly.

“Hi, Jake,” her small voice chirped a little hoarsely from her end of the line.

“Hello,” I sighed into the phone as my shoulders dropped, the weight of days of worry starting to melt away just at the sound of her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” she said quietly.

I looked over at my family, who were obviously listening intently, then pulled the long cord with me into my room and closed the door, sliding my back down it to collapse on the floor.

“It’s OK, just tell me you’re OK?”

She paused for a long moment.

“I’m gonna be fine,” she said.

“Going to be? What’s wrong?”

“Uh, you know, girl stuff again. I had to go to the hospital last Saturday after I got sick. I was in a lot of pain and couldn’t keep anything down.”

I sighed a little in relief, but something was still bothering me.

“How come you didn’t call until now?”

“I was in the hospital until Tuesday,” she admitted. “Then I was pretty sick and stayed in my room. Today is the first day I’ve eaten real food.”

“I left messages Friday and Saturday. I was worried sick and no one called,” I complained.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I got to hear your voice, but I just couldn’t call yet.”

“You’re going to have to explain to me how you couldn’t call me.”

She sighed and took a few moments.

“This ‘girl stuff’ is very personal, and I just wasn’t ready to call you yet,” she admitted.

“Mel, I hadn’t heard a word from you in nine days,” I said in exasperation. “You could have sent a letter in the mail in that time, and just said you were fine and that you’d call later. That would have been something, at least.”

“I said I’m sorry,” she said defensively.

I bopped the back of my head into my door in exasperation.

“I don’t know if sorry is enough.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Why did we break up last time?”

“We didn’t break up,” she said in defiance, her voice catching a little.

“We broke up,” I said with authority. “And we broke up because you didn’t communicate and I didn’t trust you anymore.”

I could hear her voice tear apart as she started to cry softly.

“I’m sorry,” I said, mostly to end the tension in the air.

She sniffed and seemed to gather herself on the other side of the line.

“I can’t lose you right now,” she cried softly.

“If you do, it will be because you didn’t communicate again,” I said softly.

“Promise me you won’t leave me!” she demanded in a more frantic tone.

“I can’t promise that right now,” I said flatly. “I’ve been worried sick about you for days and you couldn’t pick up a phone and communicate, or have someone else call? How much do you care about me if you can’t do something that simple for me?”

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me now. I can’t live without you right now.”

I couldn’t help it. I was feeling more empowered and less emotional by the moment. Logic was my friend. Logic was on my side. I chuckled at her claim that she couldn’t live without me.

“You lived nine days without me just fine.”

Her sudden burst of anguish from the phone was palpable, and hurt me to the soul.

“You have no idea!” she cried, now maybe more in anger.

“Then give me an idea!” I barked back. “Talk. Communicate. Tell me what and why. How am I supposed to know, damnit!”

“I can’t!”

“Why?”

“I don’t ... I don’t know, I just can’t.”

“Then I can’t either.” I said flatly. “Look, let’s talk in person. This is just making both of us more upset.”

“You’re gonna break up with me!” she cried.

My head found the door to be hard again as I banged my skull against it one more time.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You are,” she cried in agony. “You’re going to leave me now.”

“I said I don’t know,” I cut her off. “I don’t really know how I feel right now. I should have felt relieved that you’re better, or going to be better, and I do, and I was happy to finally hear your voice, but I’m still mad at you.’

“I’m so sorry,” she cried softly.

“Let’s just talk tomorrow,” I said as soothingly as I could. “This isn’t helping.”

“Promise me,” she said in a tiny, quiet voice I could barely hear.

“I can’t promise you,” I said again.

“Please,” she squeaked.

“Look, I’m not going to break up with you now or tomorrow. I just have a lot to think about.”

“OK,” she said softly, accepting my offer.

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” she said softly, then more fiercely, “I love you!”

I got up and opened my door, then hung up the phone before the emotions could get the better of me again.

I had almost closed my door when mom called from around the corner again.

“Everything OK?”

“Yeah, mom,” I lied, before closing the door.

I collapsed onto my bedspread once again, leaking tears down my cheeks as I dealt with overwhelming emotions. I had surprised myself at how angry I was with Mel. I had gone from just wanting to hear her voice to not wanting to hear it again, all in seconds.

I had to see her. I felt like if I saw her, face-to-face, I could resolve my feelings for her.

To be honest, this was really a third strike with her. She’d broken my heart when she broke up with me. She’d kept our new relationship hidden from her parents, and now she’d gone silent on me again. I didn’t owe her anything other than to talk to her tomorrow, and not break up with her then, but the idea of breaking it off with her was looming larger in the back of my mind. I was 14, and I didn’t need these heavy emotions and feelings from what should be a cute early high school relationship. It was toxic. Sure, I was having sex with her and felt emotionally close to her, but everything that came with it was almost too much to bear for my level of maturity.

I don’t know how many hours I wallowed in self-pity, but a knock came at my door.

“Why don’t you finish your plate now?” mom asked softly.

I WAS hungry. I rubbed the crud out of my eyes and opened my door. Mom stood there with my plate steaming from a reheat in the microwave.

“Thanks,” I said softly, reaching for the plate.

Mom pulled back on the plate.

“First, tell me what’s going on?”

My shoulders slumped and I sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Mel sick. Is she OK? What’s going on?”

“OK, she says she’s going to be fine,” I shrugged. “I’ll see her tomorrow at school, I guess.”

“But are you OK?”

“I’m going to be fine too,” I muttered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, mom.”

“Jake, we’re here for you. I know this stuff is hard, and you feel like no one but you has gone through it, but everyone has. Both your father and me. You can talk to us.”