Struggles of a Country boy

Brad could see his father was infuriated with his mother and frustrated by not being able to communicate the need for them to make a decision. Yet other than raising his voice and having his eyes on the verge of jumping out of their sockets, Harold was in control of himself. Definitely not in control of the situation though.

  "You heard your mother, I guess you'll go back to school in Wilmet next week.

  "Will you have any trouble getting your schedule or do you want me to call Sargant and talk to him?"

  "No, you won't have to, I already stopped by his office on Thursday to ask him about it.

  "The only problem is that everyone else did their schedules in June and they got the pick of the classes. I'll have to take what no one else wanted.

  "Next semester and next year I'm going to have a really heavy load if I want to get into college. I won't be able to take the other required math courses until my senior year because they're already filled up for the rest of this year."

  Brad pulled the Pontiac onto the road’s extra wide shoulder near one of the Whiting Dairy's huge hay fields. Many times since he had got his driver's license he would stopped here when he was hunting woodchucks. But this morning the field was a familiar and comfortable place less than a mile from the high school where he could think about the start of another school year and the coming days.

  There's one. You're lucky this morning, Chuck.

  Other than glancing over into the back seat to reassure himself that his .22 Hornet was still in its case on the rear floor, but Brad made no attempt to reach for it. He kept watching the grizzled rodent as it waddled along the upper ridge of the field about one hundred and fifty yards from the road.

  He's about a fat damn thing. A cold, long winter's coming.

  The thoughts of such an adventure as moving out west had so fired his imagination that Brad could not help but brag and loudly declare he was through with New England and was going out west to make his fortune. He had walked out the front door of the Wilmet High School in June sure he would never enter the school again. Now, three months later he was going to have to walk back through those same front doors and he would have to eat crow and he didn't like it one bit. Brad felt betrayed by his parents, particularly by his mother who seemed to have instigated the idea of moving to California and then became indecisive about the whole thing.

  Life is so damn unfair. She doesn’t care about me at all, only thinks about herself all the time.

  It was normal for Brad not to see more than two or three of his classmates through out the summer and this summer had been no exception. He had worked hard at avoiding Annie for some reason he could not comprehend, but she had called him four times during the summer anyway and forced him to tell her what was going on and assure her he was all right.

  I can't figure out why she calls me. I only see her in school and I've never taken her out except the day we went to Purgatory Falls.

  She's the one person who seems to understand what is happening to me. She said her father had done things like my folks are doing before her mother left him and finally divorced him. But her mom is a neat person not like my mother at all.

  Maybe I would ask her out if I had the money. If she would go with me?

  Dad told me not to take the job driving tractor on Matt Wilcox's farm because we would be moving soon and it wouldn't be fair to Matt for me to quit so soon after he hired me.

  I'm fair! But I have no God damn money except what I earn working part time for Charlie.

  In his frustration Brad slammed the steering wheel with the flats of his hands.

  The rumble of a big vehicle coming from behind him made Brad look into the rearview mirror just in time to catch a quick glimpse of George's smiling face and see his big hand move for the chain which actuated the trucker’s air horn he had installed on the ugly yellow school bus.

  Brad jumped but couldn't help but smile as the bus he had ridden back and forth to school for five years roared across the flats towards Wilmet High leaving behind the stink of diesel fumes and a thin blue exhaust haze swirling down the road.

  Damn, George! That's about the hundredth time he's got me with that horn!

  With a smile still playing at his lips Brad turned the key on the Pontiac and smiled wider as the big, powerful straight 8 roared into life. Brad thought about how many times George had bragged to the kids about how big an engine the school bus had and how fast it would go if he really wanted it to.

  He thinks he's got such a hot engine, huh? Just wait George, I'll get even with you.

  He squeezed the big green car between the back of George's school bus and the edge of the lawn to reach a parking spot the school buses had blocked. There was only one other student's car in the lot, the rest of the eight or nine cars belong to teachers.

  Looks like Bob worked on his model A coupe some more this summer. His new black paint job sure looks nice.

  OK! Who's going to be here for teachers?

  "Hi! About time you got here."

  The passenger door had opened so quick and quietly she took Brad by surprise. By the time he turned Annie was on the seat beside him and was talking as if continuing a conversation they had already started earlier this morning.

  "Joanna isn't coming back. Did you hear?

  I'm so mad. I wanted to take her math class first semester.

  "Did you hear me Brad? She and Joe Barlow are married and going to have a baby. Damn! What a way to start a school year."

  "Hi, Annie. Where did you come from? I didn't see you anywhere before I parked."

  "Which was the whole idea, but you're so late I almost gave up and went inside. I knew you would park somewhere else if you saw me waiting for you so I stood in the boiler room doorway.

  "The janitor caught me, but I told him I was waiting for you and he just walked away. Have you got something on him or what? The boiler room is off limits but as soon as I mentioned you he left."

  "He and my dad used to work together I guess he kind of looks after me some."

  "Well come on, Brad. The bell is about to ring, and we’re going to be late the first morning of a new school year.

  "Will you wait for me and take me home after school so I can get to work on time?"

  "I don't know, Annie. I might leave early and go hunting after lunch."

  "Oh, OK. Thanks anyway, Brad.

  Why is she being so snotty? What'd I say wrong?

  On the second day of school Brad dropped his dad off at work before driving up Wilmet's main street at 7:25. The town was already busy as was usual for a small New Hampshire town. The lunch counter had been open for almost two and a half hours and Brad knew Annie and her mother would be working side by side as they had been doing for the last three months. Annie started working at Berube's lunch counter just before summer vacation had started and since school started again she would work from 5 A.M. until 7:45 when she would make a mad dash to change her clothes and get to school before the tardy bell would ring at 8:05. At 3:10 she would hurry down the hill into town and then work until 6 on weeknights and 8 on Friday and Saturday nights.

  I'll go into Berube's to get a cup of coffee and a doughnut before school. Maybe I can give Annie a ride to school. I guess I should have taken her home last night.

  He wheeled the heavy car around the traffic dummy on the west end of town and started back down Main Street towards Berube's while he watched the dummy's yellow warning light blinking in his rearview mirrors.

  I like her, but I never know what to say to her and besides, I'm not sure how much she really likes me. Everybody says she goes out with older guys, and if she is, I know she's getting laid.

  He bounced the car’s right front tire against the high granite curb.

  Damn! I've got to watch what I'm doing. If I bust a tire, Dad will get pissed.

  The huge brass cow bell mounted over the door on a piece of springy steel bonged merrily when he opened and closed the door. The several regulars who were
there for their morning coffee every morning, except Sunday and only missed then because Berube's was closed, turned to see who had the audacity to enter their domain. A couple of the men turned away with no trace of recognition even though Brad had been in their businesses and they knew him by his first name. Norman Mills the new owner of Berube's sat on a stool near the middle of the counter. He always had a good word for everyone even before he bought out old man Berube and had just ran a small news stand with newspapers and the inevitable magazines in the restaurant.

  "Morning, Brad. You're around early.

  Mary! Brad needs a cup of coffee so he can get started on his second day of school for the year."

  Next to Norman was Oscar Dubee. This small quiet man was liked by all who knew him and he had been giving Brad buys on ammunition as long as Brad had known him.

  "Hi, Norman. Oscar.

  "How is your new job, Oscar?"

  Oscar had got laid-off from the hardware store after working there for fifteen years to make room for the owner's brother-in-law who had trouble holding a job elsewhere, and everyone who knew about it including Brad, was up-in-arms and threatening to boycott the store.

  "I'm afraid the machine shop isn't quite the same as a store, Brad. But we'll make it. Thanks for asking."

  "You going to go coon hunting with us this fall, Oscar? We've got a great new Black and Tan pup."

  "I just might do it, Brad. Just so long as I don't have to climb the trees. But I hear your pretty good at that."

  "I guess so. It's lots of fun anyhow."

  Brad looked around for Annie and when Mary brought him a steaming mug of coffee he looked at her with a questioning look.

  "She left already, Brad. The minute you walked in the front door she went out the back."

  "Oh, I was going to ask if she wanted a ride to school. I guess she doesn't."

  Mary continued to stand in front of Brad. First she slid the mug a little closer to him and then she picked up the sugar jar and moved it closer to his right hand.

  "Need some sugar, Brad?"

  He looked into her smiling eyes. Annie had told him her mother was forty-something but Brad couldn't believe it. She had hardly a wrinkle on her face not like his mother whose face showed a mass of wrinkles. Mary's soft brown hair framed her face and was long enough to be pulled back into a modified ponytail which added a feeling of youth to her image.

  "My daughter’s a little upset with you, Brad. Did you promise to take her home and then to work after school yesterday?"

  "Not really, Mary. I told her I was thinking about leaving early and going chuck hunting, which I did. I skipped my last period study hall and left.

  "I didn't really skip. Mr. Getty said I could leave since no one had any school work to do any way.

  She's mad about that? I didn't want her to get mad but I wasn't there."

  "Don't worry about it, Brad. I'll talk to her."

  "Tell her I'm sorry. OK?"

  "OK. I'll do that for you.

  “When is your mom getting home, Brad? Annie said she's on her way from California."

  "Dad thinks she'll get here sometime before Friday. She called from Albuquerque late Monday, Labor Day and said they were leaving there after they had supper."

  “So she got a ride home with someone?"

  "Yeah. She caught a ride with Larry James. Do you remember him, Mary? He used to work at the machine shop."

  "Oh, yes. I remember Larry very well." The heavy sarcasm would have been hard to miss.

  Brad studied Mary's face for several seconds but couldn't read anything on it.

  "I'll see ya, Mary. I've got to get to school."

  "Sure, Brad. Have a good day.

  "Brad?"

  Her voice stopped him as he was reaching for the door handle and he felt her step up behind him.

  "Talk to Annie if you get a chance. She isn't really mad at you."

  Brad studied the car ahead of him on Maple Street. He was just a block over from the school and curious to who was getting to ride in the candy apple red model "B" Ford roadster. The car was familiar but Brad was having trouble placing who it belong to.

  It's Tubb's. That's Warren's old oxidized black model "B". What's he doing here?

  Brad knew Warren had graduated three years ago then he remembered Warren's kid sister Amy was a senior this year.

  I'll bet Warren is bringing Amy to school this morning. It kind of looks like the back of her head. But her hair maybe shorter and darker though.

  Damn it, that's Annie getting out of his car. No wonder she's acting so funny towards me.

  Warren's getting some of that, huh?

  Brad felt her eyes glare into his through his windshield and across the twenty feet which separated them when she slid out of Warren's souped-up model "B" Ford.

  He felt a knot start in his throat and the muscles just above and behind his ears tightened and begin to ache almost instantaneously when their eyes met.

  Why do I feel like this? I've never hardly kissed her and everybody knows she runs around with and screws older guys like Warren.

  TWENTY

  The look which flashed across his father's face showed Brad the real meaning of the expression 'if looks could kill'.

  Brad and his parents had just pulled into their driveway and were getting out of the Pontiac when the big shiny black Buick Roadmaster pulled into the driveway behind them. The setting sun hit the Buick's windshield making it impossible to see who was behind the steering wheel. The quizzical look on his father's face told Brad he wasn't the only one who didn't recognize the new 1954 Buick. But his mother's eyes lit up and a tiny smile played at her lips.

  That's the first smile I've seen on her face since she came back from California. I wonder who that is?

  Before anyone else could move his mother hurried to the driver's side of the shiny black car and opened the door. It wasn't until the man stood his full 6' 2" height and embraced his mother that Brad recognized Larry James. Brad glanced towards his father and saw recognition on his face closely followed by that look of hate which flashed across his face. The look was immediately replaced by a smile as he stepped up to shake the hand of the bigger man who was holding Brad's mother in his arms.

  When will they start arguing? They haven't said a word to each other since Larry left two hours ago. At least when Mom was in California I never had to listen to them fight and Dad was a lot easier to get along with by himself. I want my bedroom back, too. She's been here for almost two months and hasn't slept in her own bed yet. Brad thought after he had finished the last of his supper and rose from the kitchen table.

  "Are you working tomorrow, Brad? If you aren't I'll take the car in the morning. I'm going to work at least half a day, if not all day."

  "No, I'm not, Dad. I thought I'd go up on the mountain bird hunting until about noon and then I'll be back in case Charlie wants me to work in the afternoon.

  "It's so hot and dry the hunting isn't too good anyway, and by 11 o'clock it's absolutely rotten."

  Brad turned and stood in the doorway to the hall from the kitchen out of curiosity. He wanted to know why Larry had been there and why his mother had turned quieter and moodier than she had been since she came back from California.

  "Has Larry found a job yet?" Brad asked to promote some sort of reply from his parents then waited patiently for an answer.

  "He isn't looking for one." Carolyn answered her son being unusually slow and quiet. "He buried his mother last week so he's decided to go back to L.A. and he wanted to know if we wanted him to take anything to Greta or if we knew whether we were going to move to California or not.

  "I told him since Dad couldn't sell the house we wouldn't be going out there anytime soon.

  "I'm not sure I want to live out there near Edgar and Greta. Besides L.A. traffic is terrible." Came from his mother as an after thought.

  Brad was amazed at how deep the hardwood leaves were
piled up on the forest floor everywhere he went. There had been a lot of warm weather but no rain to speak of since the first killing frost early in October so the leaves were as dry and brittle as tissue paper.

  He could hear his brown and white mongrel charging around over a hundred yards uphill from him as the big sugar maple leaves cracked and popped under her feet. He stopped to listen since it was almost impossible to hear anything when he was walking through the leaves himself. He heard the barking of the big male gray squirrel his dog had run up one of the oak trees which stood isolated among the maples. The squirrel was cursing and threatening all kinds of violence from its safe perch 10 feet off the ground and just a short leap from the trunk of a massive maple that it called home. In a fraction of a second the fluffy tailed rodent could be on his way to the safety of the tree's dizzy heights if he thought the dog was becoming too much of a threat to his well being.

  Downhill, towards the old logging road which went to the cabin and sugar house, Brad heard two more grays join in and bolster the courage of one of their own. As he stood and listened the chorus spread across the hillside for as far as he could hear and Rusty started her ritual charging from tree to tree, squirrel to squirrel, attempting to intimidate them into the higher branches of the trees.

  Where does that fat mutt get so much energy? She's been up and down the hill at least ten times since we started.

  Brad circled around the lower edge of the orchard and tried to time it so about 10 o'clock he would be at the spring. He had pilfered the makings of a ham sandwich from his mother's kitchen, and a box of Jiffy cornmeal muffin mix that he liked to nibble on dry right out of the box. Now, mid-morning and his hunger was starting to overwhelm his urge to hunt and he wanted a drink of cold spring water to wash down his lunch.

  Though he had told his parents one thing he really had no intentions of being back before noon time. In fact, he was thinking he might just hike over to the farm this afternoon and meet Charlie there even if he didn't work. He could hunt birds around the edge of the cow pasture and in the old orchard just before dusk when they came in to feed on the small withered apples.

  Over the burble and gurglings of the small spring fed creek Brad heard a Ruffed Grouse take flight from a knoll next to the sugar house and he stopped and listened to locate his dog. He tried to figure out if she had flushed the bird or if it was spooked because of the dry noisy leaves underfoot. He listened and finally heard the mongrel panting as she trotted along his scent trail from the front of the cabin and down into the drainage. She was over a hundred yards from the bird when it had taken flight.