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Chapter 16
TRIGGER
When I was growing up, I lived on the farm with my parents. I had an older brother who went into the Army when he turned eighteen. He lives in Virginia now, with his wife and a couple of kids. That left me with my parents, doing the usual farm things.
We planted soybeans most years. We also kept a few hogs, a few cows, and a couple horses, but mostly they were just for tradition. Our family had always had a horse or two. Horses are nice. They are easy to keep, especially if you already have a barn and everything. We had a bay and a palomino, beautiful.
I like the work of the farm. Sometimes, I miss it. I like getting up early. I like having chores that leave you completely sore and worn out and even kind of dirty.
High school was great. I played football and stuff. I always got picked first in gym. One time I broke a kid’s arm, and that was the end of football for me. I didn’t mean to do it or anything. I still feel terrible about it. He went to another school. Sometimes I wonder what happened to him after all that.
The only thing that really felt like it was missing was maybe more people around me. A lot of my friends lived in town. They would just naturally hang out every Friday and Saturday night. I had chores at the crack of dawn on Saturday, so I couldn’t really have that kind of life. If I didn’t see the kids at school, it was just as likely that I wouldn’t see them at all.
After graduation, that’s kind of the way it went. Everybody went on with their lives, and I went back to the farm.
Being a pretty big guy and all, maybe not a genius, but a good worker and stuff, my mom suggested that I take after my grandpa and see about the fire department. I didn’t realize it would mean leaving home. Leaving everything I ever knew. It kind of swept me up, and sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I had stayed out there.
But since my parents retired, the truth is I probably wouldn’t still be a farmer. If I hadn’t found the fire department, I don’t know where I would be.
It’s like a family. I would never tell the guys that, but it really is. They are like my brothers.
And Olivia is like our… I don’t know if I have a word. We keep joking about being girlfriend and boyfriends, and I guess that’s a joke, but it isn’t really.
The first time I saw her, I could feel her in my heart right away. I knew I had to protect her. As soon as I put my arms around her when she tried to set her kitchen on fire, I knew that just felt right somehow. She fit really well there.
The thing about Olivia is she looks at me. She keeps track of me too. If I don’t like what’s going on, she always makes sure to reach out and touch my hand, or squeeze my arm, or rest her head on my chest for just a second. Just so I know that she’s thinking about me. It comes natural. I don’t think the other guys even notice. But I do.
I’m not saying I’m her favorite or anything. I don’t think she has a favorite. Well, not yet. Maybe I will be the favorite for a little while and then Pete, then Stephan. Then maybe me again?
But nobody ever looked at me like she looks at me. Maybe they couldn’t see. I am pretty tall. Sometimes people laugh and say I’m scary. I’m not scary. I never really know if they are laughing because it’s funny or because I’m funny. I remember as kids we used to say, ‘funny haha or funny strange.’ Maybe I’m funny strange.
Either way, she doesn’t treat me like a joke. She treats me like a man. And she lets me make her smile. And she is a really good cook.
The teapot whistles, and I take the kettle off the burner and turn it off, then fill the coffee pot and set the timer for four minutes. This is how she likes the coffee to be made. Not in the machine with automatic settings. This coffee is much stronger than the old coffee. It’s really great. Especially early morning, when the scent of it fills your nose.
I don’t know what it’s going to be like when it all gets settled in. So far this morning, it seems like we are all kind of in each other’s way. Nobody knows how to be polite. We all kind of fell together in a pile last night after maybe a few too many shots of tequila, but that isn’t right. Bubba will be back in a couple of days to pack up his stuff. We can’t all be in the same room, I guess. She needs her own space.
