Page 16 of Bucked Hard
That is not enough. I need more. I need to see her again. I haven’t felt this kind of need in my life, not ever. Ache isn’t even close. It’s painful. Desperate.
My gut is tight beyond reason, and even at two o’clock in the morning when I think of that dimple my balls nearly seize up and empty like a fourteen-year-old boy opening his first Playboy.
Now, here I sit, listening to Roger’s voice outside the car losing his usual casual humor. I shake my head, roll my eyes and grab the door handle. Sulking here alone while he’s trying to wrangle two drunk girls is not being a proper wing-man. So I nut up and my boots hit the dirt parking lot with a dusty puff as I jump down out of the SUV.
“Last chance.” Roger yells as the girls lean on each other and begin to trek back toward the entrance to the bar.
“What the fuck?” I watch them go, but I don’t like it because that means I have to stay here longer.
“They say they’re staying.” Roger throws up his hands. “The place stays open until four, but they stop serving at two. I don’t think they understand that.” With a shrug, he turns to the car and laughs. “Whatever, bro, they’ve got some other friends inside, said they would catch a ride with them, so I guess you’re my hook up for the night.”
“Fuck you.” I let out a long, low groan.
“Whatever, let ‘em go. I’m ready to hit the sack anyway.” Roger centers his Stetson then stuffs his hands in his pockets and cracks his neck.
“Fine by me. This bar bullshit isn’t my cup-a-Joe.”
“Yeah?” Roger’s low tone rises. “Something inside there sure looked like it was your cuppa somethin’. I’d say you’re just horny but I know better. You turn down more tail than most men will ever see and your eyes lit up like the fourth of July in there.”
We jump back into the Range Rover and I push the ignition button. The SUV fires up and we head through town in silence. I need the quiet, it gives me time to breathe and think over what I’m going to do now that I’m home for good.
When we cruise past Bennett’s Feed & Farm store, I decide that is where I’ll start tomorrow. In towns like this, the Feed Store is better than any local newspaper, any town crier. Folks that own places like that know everything that happens in towns like this. Land for sale, who’s going under, where their might be work.
I’m looking forward to a month or so of anonymity while I get myself organized and try to settle back into life here. Fuck, I’d just do farm hand work for a while, that would suit me just fine. I need to clear my head. And nothing will keep you from thinking too much like a hard day’s work.
I love where I grew up. Michigan is God’s country. This part of the state is all rolling hills and pastures. The corn grows tall and the people move slow. The sunsets are made from pink-lemonade and crackling fire and the food does bad things for your cholesterol. But, even in all this beauty, the ugliness of the world found my family.
It’s not that I didn’t have a good upbringing, quite the contrary. My parents were the kind of people folks call salt of the earth.
Hard work, love, church and gentle discipline were the roots of my young years. Dad was a deacon at First Baptist and mom won the pie-making contest six years in a row at the county 4-H fair. I grew up farming a few hours from here, but it’s the same farm country. Corn, wheat, soybeans, chickens…it may not sound glamorous, but if you’ve been there, you know it’s not just a job. It’s a life.
When the sun rises and sets over the gold of a summer wheat field as you sit on the porch, a hard day’s work under your belt and a glass of tea in your hand, there’s no big city stardom that can compete.
My parents were great. I’ll never let a bad word be said against them, not as long as I live. My mom’s dementia aside, she’s still one of the best people I know, and if Dad was still around then he’d be right up there in my estimation along with her. But he died a year ago of grief, shame and a massive heart attack.
See, Dad has a son from a little hiccup he’d had with a girl in high school. Not that I’m judging. My dad is a good man.
He wanted to marry Belinda when they were both sixteen but she thought being the wife of a dirt farmer was below her. Dad was lucky in that respect because he never would have met my mom if they’d made it official, but he always did everything he could to be part of my half-brother’s life. Didn’t do him any good though. Leander took a very different path and it broke my father’s heart and destroyed our family.
I was no saint myself, don’t get me wrong. Shit, I raised ten kinds of hell and learned to fight just like a lot of country boys. I know right from wrong though, even if I have got a slow burning temper and a stubborn streak a mile wide.
I don’t back down when I’m dug in, and I earned a reputation as a soft spoken guy who you don’t want to cross. But that about sums it up. I don’t go looking for trouble, but if trouble comes to roost, I’ve got no problem wringing its fucking neck.
Now, Mom is over in Sommerville, the area where they have subdivisions full of McMansions and a huge mall with fancy stores who’s names I wouldn’t know. It’s twenty miles or so closer to the city from here, and she’s in a home there for folks with memory problems. I flew home from Oklahoma once a month for the last five years to see her. I’d come in, stay at Dad’s little apartment when he was still alive, see Mom and fly back out before anyone knew I was here. I would call Roger now and then and he and sometimes his sister Courtney would meet me for dinner, but other than that, I haven’t been back for any length of time until now.
When Dad passed away, I did what I could to respect his wishes. He always said he didn’t want a funeral, so I scattered his ashes over the old farm early one morning when I came back for my monthly visit with Mom.
A thunderstorm rolled across our old two hundred seventy acres as I let him blow away into the wind, and for me it just brought back everything that he’d lost. He’d worked hard his entire life, but they were forced to give up the farm. Dad just lost the heart for it, and as much as I tried to help, he pushed me away. He knew I needed to run wild, find my own way, and as much as it broke my heart at the time, he was right.
I adjust my ball cap as I take the turn out of town and onto the dirt road that leads back to Roger’s place. I’m pushing it close to ninety down the dusty gravel because that’s just how it rolls out here, but it’s pitch black and I have to squint to adjust my eyes to the darkness. I catch a glimpse of my eyes in the mirror and it makes me think about Mom.
She doesn’t even know who I am when I come visit her. For the last year, with the change in the ownership at the ranch back in Oklahoma, and knowing Mom was here without me, that’s when I knew even with the dark cloud over our family name, it was time to head back. It costs me six thousand dollars a month to keep her in the nicest place we could find.
Dad left a small inheritance to me and the rest of what they had left I manage in my mom’s trust. It doesn’t cover the entire amount for her care every month, but I’ll cover it as long as it’s needed.
But, she needs more than just the bills paid, even if she doesn’t know who I am. And I need her, I suppose. I need to know I stood up, did the right thing, faced down these family demons and made my parents proud. It’s what Dad would have wanted and that is what I plan to do.
I’m lost in all the thoughts when suddenly I see a dark silhouette of someone walking on the side of the road.
