Page 19 of Ginjuh

“Well, ain’t seen you in a minute.” Grandpa cleared his throat. “Thought you had forgotten about me.”

“Grandpa.” I laughed at his joke.

“You boys ready to put in a few more days, then?” Grandpa asked before sipping at his water.

Austin climbed out of the car. “Yes, sir.”

He answered for us.

“Y’all know what you’re doing.” Grandpa waved us off. “Don’t let me bother you none.”

“All right.” I nodded.

“I just put a cooler out there with some waters for ya’, Zach.” Grandpa nodded in the direction of the shed. “Just so you two won’t have to stop to run up to the house.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“I got your first week’s pay for you when you get done, Austin,” Grandpa said. “Don’t let me forget to give it to you before you leave today.”

“Yes, sir,” Austin replied.

Then Grandpa got up and disappeared into the house. He’d said what he’d needed to say. He was done. He wasn’t going to hover. It was nice that he trusted us to do what we’d been told to do without watching us the whole while. Austin and I went to the shed and got the scythes, and I grabbed the small cooler, and we disappeared into the field again, finding the spot where we had left off the previous weekend.

The first hour in the field went by pretty quick, though summer still hadn’t given up the ghost and we were drenched with sweat. We didn’t quite make it two hours before we decided it was time to take our first break. Austin plopped down on one side of the cooler while I sat down on the other. I slid the top to the side and we each grabbed a water, immediately twisting the caps and chugging them down before we each grabbed another. Austin wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and swung his head to the side, sending sweat droplets in my direction.

“Hey!” I laughed, blinking as sweat sprinkled my face.

“Sorry.” He chuckled lowly.

“I got enough of my own, man.” I laughed as I wiped my face with the palm of my calloused hand.

Austin began to chug the second bottle of water as we sat there in what little shade the corn stalks that hadn’t been chopped down provided.

“So,” I ventured, “what’s your deal, anyway?”

“What?”

“The black clothes—usually—the stoic demeanor, the blank stares, refusing to talk to people…the notebook?” I said the last part softly. “You know it makes you look weird, right?”

“I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“I think you’re lying.” I sat back, bracing my palms in the dirt. “I think there’s more going on under your lid than you let on.”

“Why do you care?”

“I guess I don’t.” I shrugged slightly. “Well, I mean, I care. But it’s no skin off my ass if you just want to be quiet and fade into the background in every situation. If that’s your thing, that’s your thing, man.”

He didn’t respond.

“But it wouldn’t hurt you to at least try to act normal.”

“Are you normal?”

“Touché.” I laughed.