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Kenneth
Ilook around the immense size of this oil field remembering other rigs and fields that I’ve been part of. I’m certainly no stranger to these processes. It comes to me naturally, just like riding my motorcycle and getting lost in the wilderness as the wind blows by. Careless and free.
I take every day step by step now. Learning to enjoy this life, although a bit more quietly.
As I lose those thoughts, others begin to swim around my mind. Like the previous applicant before me falling to the ground. My heart beats sadly for him, but I keep my distance. Then to the pretty woman whose job it is to hire me two days ago. She really caught me off guard slamming her desk and popping up like that. I can chuckle at it now.
That’s how I need and want to be, but it’s troublesome at this time in my life. I drop my head, staring at the ground, heavy with more intrusive thoughts. About Kelly. The only love I thought I’d ever have and now, she’s my ex-wife. She runs off for a relationship with my then best friend. Fuckhead! And fuck her. Just a small note on the counter, never saying goodbye, kiss my ass, nothing until a year later.
Divorce papers. The big bomb of a marriage. I hate when people use it as a means to control the other half. But Kelly didn’t do that. She’s just gone like the wind and I thought something would come from it. Didn’t know where she lives and still don’t want to know. Since then, I’ve made a habit of moving around a lot and mostly keeping to myself. Seeing the sights, meeting people.
Standing and yawning, I lean into the stretch along my back. Life is hard. It’s even harder when you’re stupid and I fit the stupid side of me back then. At thirty-two, I’m learning a helluva lot about life, love, and what’s important.
Like finding the heart of another, if I find anyone suitable for the position.
I grab a seat on a make-shift bench just outside the gates of the oil rigs and rest my head in my hands. These things can be so noisy at times.
What’s her name? She didn’t introduce herself to me, only to Jason. When she got hurt like that yesterday, I had some remorse, feeling terrible for not helping her up. Instead, I look around at all the men staring at her.
I did notice that everyone respects her and seems to genuinely like her. But men, being men—not really—I mean being wolves, had to watch her with their tongues and dicks hanging out, until they couldn’t see her any longer.
Like she’s some toy to fuck with. Dirty bastards. I know what they’re thinking.
A car pulls into the lot and comes to rest in a spot by the door. It’s probably Jason, but I hang back here for a moment while he gets himself together. I go back to thinking of the woman from yesterday and how gorgeous she is. Her eyes are like two emeralds, smiling back at me.
Damn, I hope she’s alright.
Whoever just came into the lot, sure is having a sitting spell. Must be too much on his mind. Like me. Hopefully he’s having a better time of it or maybe he got lucky last night. I see that it is Jason as he steps from his car, turning to lock it. Must’ve caught sight of me when he shut his car door. I figure I better leave my thoughts behind for now, and walk over to him.
I wonder what’s got so much of his attention this morning. Honestly, it’s none of my business. “Good morning, Jason,” I stretch a hand out to shake his hand. Wow, his hands are softer than what I thought they’d be.
“Hey there, Ken, right?” he questions me while he picks up some things to head to the oil field.
“All day, every day,” I quip back. “Unless you’re Johnny Law, then my name is mud.”
Jason points a finger my way and laughs. “Oh, so you’re a funny one?”
“Not really, but it helps when things stay light,” I say as he hands me some gloves and a bright yellow security vest. “By the way, how is the girl that got hurt the other day?”
“Tamara? She’s fine. It’s just a sprain,” he slips his gloves on and I follow suit. “Tell me how much you know about the oil fields and rigging.”
While I’m putting my vest on, I look over to him. “Actually, I know quite a bit about those rigs out there. Worked a couple of them west of here.”
“Hallelujah!” he raises his hand up in the air excitedly. “Finally, I get to work with someone who knows what happens on the field and in the rigs. Someone that gives a shit.”
I had a good chuckle with Jason’s excitability. “Don’t know about giving a shit, but I certainly can work one of those,” I say, pointing a hand over my shoulder towards the field.
“Well, how about coming out with me tonight and a few of the guys?” he looks at me, almost searching my face for any clues. Like I’m some kind of mystery.
“Sure, I have nothing better to do.”
Later we all meet up at the bar and have a few beers. The guys are carousing and ogling women, but not Jason or me. He walks over to me and hands me a beer, taking the seat next to me. “So, tell me a little about yourself,” he takes a swig and rests his feet up on the table.
“Now, Jason, I’m not tellin’ you again,” says a redhead behind the bar. “Git your filthy shoes off that there table.”
He waves her off, looking at me seriously. “What’s your story, Ken?”
“Honestly, not much to tell.” I down a gulp of beer and set it down, daring him to keep pushing me. I see that he usually gets the answers that he wants.
