This is the sequel to Adventures in Vegetable Farming

Round plates and piles of silverware clattered so loudly that Ruth was clenching her teeth. It was always at this point towards the end of her shift when it would all become too much. Every little sound, the high-pitched yelling of her manager, the bass rumbling off the kitchen’s music speaker.

She closed off her last ticket and pressed the button to release her end-of-day report. Her brother Charlie was working the closing shift and tonight Ruth just didn’t have it in her to wait at the bar for him. She found him by the grill.

“You can’t come back here,” he joked with his gaze fixed on a line of burgers and chicken breasts.

“I’m headed home in a minute. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Don’t want to hang tonight?” Charlie pouted.

“No babe, I’m dead. And you don’t get off for 4 more hours!” Ruth shoved him a bit to the side and left the kitchen line swiftly.

Ruth slid into a vacant and dimly lit corner booth to count her cash. She thought about curling up on the sticky cushion and dozing off. She was pleased with her tips and gave the server assistants an extra two dollars each.

Her truck was nearly half a mile away. She snuck out the side door and rain surprised her. She had no idea it was pouring, and it was too late to prepare. She zipped up her bag and trudged on. With each step, her sneakers misplaced tiny puddles of rainwater.

As the windshield wipers swiped through the rain drops, Ruth felt a rush of sorrow. She realized in an instant why she had spent so much time deflecting moments of reflection and quiet. Beginning to feel everything would mean having to start processing all of it and that wasn’t an option. Her stomach sank and the regret of declining her post-shift drink towered over her.

She thought of James, but more strongly came through the memory of Tim — shin high in mud and the two of them smiling under similar soaking wet skies. The way she missed Tim scared her.

Her truck was taking the highway on ramp without her knowledge. She listened to the rain fall and wiper blades sliding as her background music. Her mind had Tim wrapped all around her. The drive to his house gave enough time for her to fall back into the memory of when she last saw James.

His car, packed with everything he cared about. Their wedding rings, cashed in at a pawn shop, the earnings divided in half, plus $50 extra for James because of Ruth’s guilt.

His hands tugging at her, gripping hard on her waist. “Just one more time.”

Ruth giving in like she owed him something. Five minutes on top of the bedspread, he waits until the end to spit right on her face.

“You just made me so mad. I’m sorry. I love you. It just happened,” James’ excuses piling on her like every time his compliments presented a blunt end.

Ruth remaining frozen in place, her dress covering the bare parts of her. Silently crying, turning to her side, he leaves without a final goodbye.

All she was able to take comfort in was how James didn’t yet know how she had quit the metal shop and would start working at a restaurant with her brother. If he had known then, maybe he would have done something worse.

Ruth drove slowly down Tim’s street and imagined the way he smiled at her the day he saved her from heat exhaustion. The summer sunshine of that memory seemed to warm her entire body and part the rain clouds.

Deep fear set in as she pulled into his driveway. Her stomach twisted and her heart met the back of her throat. The headlights cast a moody scene illuminating the dancing sparks of rain. Tim emerged on the porch before she could back out of her plan.

Ruth tried to breathe deep, but felt more like choking. Her fingers trembled as they switched off the ignition and the darkness filled in the empty spaces.

When they were just a few feet apart Tim spoke her name. She followed his eyes and fell deep into his smile. As she dissolved the distance between their bodies, Tim reached to wipe a cluster of raindrops off her bare shoulder.

“You’re soaking wet. Aren’t you cold?” he laughed. Ruth shook her head and continued to lose access to her words. She thought about explaining how hot she would get during work and that even in cold weather, she wore tank tops. “Come in.” Tim guided her over the threshold with his palm barely against her lower back.

The house welcomed Ruth with smells of roasted vegetables and a faint musk. The yellow lighting encircled her. Each of them were too shaken to take a comfortable seat. They stood face to face, speechless for several minutes.

“Did you get married, Ruth?” Tim smirked. He always had a way of cutting to the chase.

“Heh, yeah. We did.” Ruth shook her head. “He’s staying with his dad now. We’re um, we’re separated.”

“What?” Tim’s voice was low.

“I’m just a mess.” Ruth felt embarrassment overcome her and she stared down at her wet sneakers.

“Ruth, don’t worry. I think I know you enough. You don’t have to explain yourself. You know I get it.”

“I, I don’t know, I just went through with getting married like it would fix everything, like it would absolve me of everything I can’t get right.” Ruth sighed and scanned the room. Something felt very different from the last time she had been inside. Tim was now face to face with her and she shyly looked to the side of him. There were four empty beer bottles sitting on the coffee table.

Tim’s solemn smile and weary eyes beckoned her concern. He stood there like the most important thing she ever knew and like someone she would never figure out.

“How are you?” Ruth leaned up against the wall.

“Everything’s okay, Ruth. I mean, my mom showed up. She’s in rough shape. I’m just trying to be there for her, but I’m not handling it well, I guess,” Tim looked down to the floor.

“Don’t be hard on yourself. You can get back to it, you will. I know it.” Ruth reached for his hands without another thought. “Nothing’s ever straightforward, is it?”

Tim looked up and held her hands back with force. “But what are you doing here tonight? Not that I’m not happy about it or anything.”

“I was driving and just felt like I needed to tell you what happened…I just miss you.” Ruth confessed.

“You didn’t say goodbye on your last day.” Tim refused to release her hands.

“I know. I couldn’t do it. I thought I was doing the right thing.” Ruth stood still looking hard into his eyes, wondering why it was so easy to keep staring.

“I missed you too.” Tim seemed strangely sober in relation to the number of beer bottles Ruth counted. Silence blossomed between their bodies, and they fell deep into it. The rest of the house seemed to fall away into blackness around them.

Tim released his warm grip on Ruth’s hands only to continue moving them down her sides, around her waist, and slowly upwards to enclose the outline of her face. He met her lips like it was the thousandth time, the first time and the last time.

Originally posted on Medium

More short stories by Lila Cave-Park:

This is the final part of a six part series.

1. Heat Exhaustion

2. Fever

3. Vole

4. Mud

5. Control

6. Patterns

Everyone sat silently in the morning meeting circle. Ruth met Tim’s eyes, just for a moment, and his blatant concern for her caused vibrations under her skin.

The boss walked up to her, lacking any eye contact at all. He threw his clipboard to the dusty greenhouse floor. Ruth’s stomach ached for nourishment and for this embarrassing moment to be over.

“Almost ten fucking minutes late, Ruth. Unacceptable.” He adjusted his hat back and forth. “The whole schedule is thrown off.”

Ruth was frozen, unable to sit down or respond to her boss at all.

“Let’s get going then. Tim and Ruth, you’re with me. Monica, take everyone else to get cucumbers and then basil. That’ll probably bring you to lunch time.”

The boss finds something else loose on the ground to kick. The silence of the group lays heavy with discomfort. As he makes his way out of the greenhouse, everyone falls in line behind him.

Biting her lip tight, Ruth holds in every tear trying to make its way through. Tim lingers close behind her and he dreams of taking her hand in his.

As the boss stomps through a taller section of grass, both Tim and Ruth watch as one of his steps reveals a wooden handle. It swings up with a force and strikes him square in the face, knocking him backwards a few steps.

Tim immediately erupts into laughter and as he turns away, Ruth stands frozen gasping. She gets closer to Tim, tugging his sleeve hoping to get his laughter to cease.

“What the hell!” the boss picks up the hoe and throws it away towards the greenhouse. “How many times do I have tell y’all that you don’t leave these tools laying down!”

Tim smirked at Ruth then jogged up to the boss, slid his arm around his shoulder and quickly mentioned, “That was you, man.”

Ruth watched the two of them. She still didn’t understand the relationship, but the boss clearly loved Tim and they seemed like good friends. The boss jokingly shoved Tim to the side and the two of them had a good laugh.

Ruth wondered if she really liked Tim or if she just wanted to be him. She considered the fact that maybe both things were true. She also wondered how this man could be such an asshole to her, then moments later start joking around with Tim. Perhaps the cruel farm boss persona was all an act.

They pile into the farm truck, with Ruth sandwiched in the middle seat. She notices the boss’ sweaty scent as it overpowers the cab. It isn’t terrible to her, but it is completely unavoidable.

Ruth watched her knees rocking back and forth, feeling embarrassed to be as close to her boss as she was. Like she was 8 years old again that time her father had publicly berated her for interrupting his conversation with a friend and she had to sit squished next to him on the drive home, wrapped up in his thick cigarette smoke.

She did her best to subtly lean closer to Tim.

“Tim, let Ruth out here.” The boss brings the truck to a stop, but doesn’t shift into park. “Get going on the zucchini. We’ll come back to help if there’s time before lunch.”

Still, no eye contact. Ruth took comfort in a moment spent face to face with Tim before they both left her alone. It was like a magic spell he put on her to provide aid in getting through the day, no matter how rough.

He doesn’t say anything but it felt better that way to her. With the rumbling of the truck off in the distance, she faced the unruly and luscious zucchini plants.

It felt intentional that the boss hadn’t left her with the proper gloves for this job. She thought maybe she was supposed to be carrying her own pair with her, but couldn’t remember the rules. On a different day, maybe she would have spoken up or run back to the storage shed to get what she needed.

Today, she would endure the relentless scratches. She considered it a proper consequence for her tardiness. Punishing pain for her indifference and apparent carelessness.

The large green leaves seemed to mock her as she approached. She loved to eat zucchini, but the vegetable has taken on a new meaning since working on the farm. The scratches the leaves left were more intense than raspberry scratches. This job was like bracing yourself for a tattoo needle.

Sunbeams cast energy over the many rows. Ruth dug into her task and stayed low. The deep green vegetables blended into the stalks and her vision blurred as time wore on. She listened closely to bees flying past her and around her. She graciously accepted fresh bursts of breeze in between the weight of warm air on her face and shoulders.

Her arms were burning, but she dug in. She nestled into the pain and focused on the bees buzzing imagining they were tattooing line after line over each of her arms with delicate precision.

By the end of the first row, she knew no one was coming to help her.

At home, Ruth lay motionless on the couch waiting for James. She had avoided Tim at the end of the day as best she could. At first, it happened unintentionally as she had spent so much time alone with the zucchini. She had almost skipped lunch as the boss conveniently forgot to pick her up on his way back to the greenhouse. Once she realized the time, she ate her sandwich alone at the end of one of the rows.

Though at the end of the day, Ruth put in extra effort to make sure she didn’t see Tim before she got into her truck and took off for home. There was a heaviness between them. It was too much hope, anticipation, and something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Whatever it all was, it felt painful in her chest.

James appeared from the bathroom and dropped his towel as he laid next to Ruth. Life could be so simple like that sometimes. Two silent bodies resting and warming each other.

When he left her to find something to eat, she knew what her life should be like. She began preparing her speech to her boss the next morning. Even though she despised him and his methods, she was still deathly afraid to give him her notice and needed to get her wording perfect.

She didn’t write the speech down, but she watched it being written in her mind and she acted it out internally. Over and over she worked at it until night came and she allowed it to follow her into her dreams. When ideas of Tim came to her, she repeated her speech to drown it all out.

The following morning felt hollow. Ruth set several alarms to make sure she was early. She knew she needed at least five minutes to get the boss’ attention before the morning meeting.

When she found him meandering around the greenhouse, she requested a word of privacy and he wordlessly led her outside. From there, her speech unfurled perfectly, just as she had rehearsed.

“I’m sorry, but I have gotten another job. It is at a metal fab shop and I’ve been trying to get in there for a while. I’ll need a job for the winter, anyway, and I’m not sure if they would be able to hold the position for me.”

Ruth’s boss looked at her, made true eye contact, then abruptly left her there alone. He made no real acknowledgment of her speech. She shook off the negative energy then followed his steps back to the greenhouse for what would be her final morning meeting.

He would find her just before lunch to let her know that his wife would finish out her role for the season and that this would be her final day on the farm.

When the work day was coming to a close, Ruth escaped the gaze of any of her coworkers, even Tim. She looked down, watching her boots meet the rocks and dirt. The one moment she decided to glance up, she saw Tim from a far distance standing still and watching her.

She felt she was far enough away to use the excuse that she hadn’t seen him, though her mind would hold onto the image of him standing there for eternity.

Ruth ignored the horrid feeling growing within her and made sure she wouldn’t fully feel it until she had wholly escaped Tim’s attention, got into her truck, and pulled out of the long rocky driveway right at 4pm.

Previously published on Medium

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More short stories from Lila Cave-Park:

At eye level, the sea surface looked like the brooding moment before a shark attack in some movie. I pushed that image far away from my eyes and thought of nothing instead. Just watching water.

Always moving, it provides a comfort that’s hard to describe. Where does the sky begin, where does it touch the ocean? In my mind I’m drawing a picture where I sit at the center, the lines of the sky and the sea meeting at each of my limbs.

Far off faces and voices scatter across the sand. The sun setting slowly behind their chaotic movements. Thirty minutes ago it was pouring, now all is still.

I chased you in here. I know you wanted peace, but I want some of you too.

Dark clouds mixed with a pink goodbye to the last of today’s sun. I felt like our souls were actually up in there twisting and warming, but we looked into each other’s eyes and talked about nothing like normal people do.

You say you never learned how to float.

It’s instinct, I swear, but you’re not so sure.

Just lay back, don’t do anything.

It doesn’t work for you and I can’t explain how it works for me. Maybe that’s why I’m always setting you straight and cooling you down when your anger bites.

Your body doesn’t float.

I want you. I want this soothing water and moody sky to be stitched into my skin and wet arms. I want it to all be okay.

I float until the very last second I can manage. I skim the surface of the soft waves with my eyes. I don’t think about sharks, but a dark shadow passes below me.

I know it is nothing.

I know I’m meant to be here and there’s nothing to be afraid of.

But you drift away and your thoughts have different ideas than I’m allowed to listen to. Maybe mine are like that too.

I’ve never understood the rules.

Thanks for being here

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Read Chapter One, Two, Three

Chapter Four

The Pain You Wished For

At dawn, Delia stands before the outfit she laid out for herself under soft yellow lamplight. Her cat grazes her calf back and forth a few times as she stands frozen. After a deep breath, she replaces her baggy t-shirt and underwear with jean shorts, a striped tank top, red American Apparel zip up sweatshirt, white socks and black Keds.

She flat ironed her hair and wished for rain. She ate a bowl of frosted flakes while watching the clock.

3:01…3:02…3:03…

At 3:40, she needed to be at the entrance kiosk. Exact time wasn’t as important as she had originally suspected, but it had to be close. Delia held and kissed each of her cats before heading outside.

Blue jays and starlings dance above her head as she unlocked her bike. Sunrays flashed through breaks in the abundant clouds and she started to smell the familiar scent of warm rain on pavement.

MaryAnn stood at the zoo entrance in a flowing black dress like the fucking grim reaper. Delia smiled to her as she dismounted and used muscle memory to lock her bike, simultaneously thanking MaryAnn for showing up.

“I know I’ve been a lot.” Delia hugged her.

“Not at all.” MaryAnn kissed her cheek.

MaryAnn was given the tools to warp time and move freely. Though it wasn’t technically allowed, if Delia held her hand, they acted as one body. MaryAnn didn’t help anyone else do this except for her friend.

Through the front gate they walked calmly. As MaryAnn faded away, Delia briefly closed her eyes and held her breath. In an instant, she was years in the past.

She watched her photography teacher run ahead of her.

“Go quickly!” Kai laughed, “You got 20 minutes before they close.”

“But it’s pouring!” Santi appeared and grabbed Delia’s hand. Kai just laughed again. Santi smiled to Delia and they ran off with fingers interlaced until they made it to the giraffe exhibit.

Once they were sure the rest of the class had lost visibility to them, Santi leaned in close and kissed Delia, the rain meeting to a pool at their cheeks. Delia forgot her purpose and her footing as her heart raced and the warmth radiated from her core, raising goosebumps along her forearms.

“I have to tell you something,” Santi grew nervous as he pulled away from their embrace. Delia didn’t speak, only stared. “It’s Jaime.”

“What?” Delia felt the same ache she had when she first experienced this moment all those years ago.

“She just wouldn’t leave me alone. I told her…over and over. But I just went and kissed her to prove…to show her that we didn’t have anything between us.”

“You kissed her?” the heat entirely dissipated.

“I’m sorry.” Santi brought his hands to his head and yelled out, “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Now was the moment this memory needed a jolt of change. Delia recalled perfectly what happened next and she turned the memory inside out.

“You’re not stupid. But I’m really fucking mad at you.” Delia held both of Santi’s soaking hands tight, then let go. Santi pulled on his hood and Delia turned away.

She walked on away from him.

“Delia! Please!” Santi ran to her. When his hand grasped her forearm, she lost her balance. Each of their bodies fell to the pavement and the world went black.

It worked, Delia spun herself around in excitement as she found herself at the apartment, listening to the doorbell.

Her arms were shaking as she turned the doorknob.

“It’s you.” she was sobbing.

“Hi.” Santi pulled her into his chest.

They don’t speak as much this time as Santi greets the cats and then meets Delia at her bed. She turns the music on and they hold each other close.

But this time, Delia is unable to access much joy. A stabbing pain grows in her chest and as time goes on, it intensifies. She kisses Santi to ease the ache, but the strength of the pain multiplies.

All three cats climb onto the bed and purr. They always seem to sense when Delia is down. Santi reaches for her again and again, but his warmth never touches her.

In a panic, Delia ends her mission. She pulls Santi into her arms as tightly as she can manage and whispers, “I love you so much. I have missed you so much since you died.”

She braces herself with eyes closed and opens them to find herself alone laying on her side with cats pressed up against her legs.

Her arms were limp; her head heavy with lead.

Time passes, but Delia is unsure of how much. She is immobile. At nightfall, MaryAnn emerges with a lit candle and chamomile tea.

The tea is more of a gesture, Delia remains in her position. Wordlessly, MaryAnn places the candle on the nightstand and covers Delia in a quilt. She climbs in beside her.

“I failed.” Delia whispers.

“It’s starting to hurt now, isn’t it? Remember I warned you about this part.”

“I had no idea how much pain there would be.” Delia was too dehydrated to cry anymore, but her stomach heaved as if she were still sobbing.

“It was pain you wished for, it will be worth it.” MaryAnn ran her fingers gently along Delia’s long curls.

Delia doesn’t answer. She starts to slip into a sleep as she attempts to reimagine what it felt like to be fully in the present moment.

Read Chapter One, Two

Chapter Three

Will It Be Worth It?

“Delia, sweetie. I think this has gone on long enough.” Mae sat at the edge of the white iron patio chair. Delia wouldn’t look at her.

“You don’t understand.”

“I do. I promise I do. I just hate to see you stuck in the past like this. You seem miserable.”

“I’d be miserable either way. At least this gives me something to care about, to focus on.” Delia was ready to cry again. A thought began to slip by her of how maybe Mae was right, but she watched it implode. “And I won’t be stuck in the past anymore, you know, if I do it right. It will all be in the present. It will be real.”

“But Delia, no one has ever gotten it right. I don’t even believe it’s possible anymore, I really don’t.”

“I’m going to get it right.” Delia’s voice was only a whisper.

“Will it be worth it?” Mae worried for her friend as they expressed everything unsaid in their stares towards one another.

Silence developed and flourished between their bodies. The city creaked and the delicate garden noises melted into the horns and rumbling engines. Birds competed for air space.

“Well, which memory are you working on?” Mae leaned in close to her friend. Delia’s eyes began to sparkle.

“New Year’s Eve. The one before we broke up.” Delia nodded.

“I think that’ll work.” Mae winked. “Want to rehearse it with me?”

"Definitely.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.” Mae smiled to her. They held hands and Delia relaxed her shoulders. The imagery came flooding back to her.

Santi’s bedroom door was closed then locked with a hook and eye latch. Music mixed with other party noises tried sneaking their way in from the edges surrounding the door where light leaked through. Santi wasn’t interested in the New Year’s Eve party his family was having.

He turned around to face Delia and let himself burrow into her arms. She held him like she couldn’t have loved anyone more. The bedroom was shadowy and lacking excitement, but Santi wanted it that way.

Delia’s curiosity for the party outside was only growing stronger. She tried encouraging Santi to go out there with her, but he remained firm.

“They’re so loud. It’s killing me.” Santi spoke into Delia’s sweater.

“It’s okay.” She ran her fingers through his straight black hair. She focused her hearing in on bursts of laughter, singing, and shouts coming from beyond the bedroom door.

She imagined a different version of herself joining the festive scene. A version of herself fluent in Spanish, loud and precise. A smile everyone understood and eyes that validated earnestly.

Santi reached for Delia’s lips and they swam in the warmth momentarily. The bedroom door began rattling as someone banged against it.

“Go away, Wilmer!” Santi had already pleaded with his little brother to stay away.

“I need something!” Wilmer shouted through the tiny opening that the latch allowed.

Santi left the bed groaning and let Wilmer inside. Delia watched the party scene slightly unfold behind him before the door was swiftly closed once more.

“Rapido!” Santi spoke sternly eyeing his brother. He stood by the door and latched it the second Wilmer passed through.

Back in bed, Delia searched for answers in Santi’s eyes. They were distant and sullen. He seemed to have so much to say, but no words proper enough to articulate himself.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see you at Christmas.” Santi gripped Delia’s waist.

“It’s okay.” Delia hadn’t heard from him for a while, but now knew that Santi had been whisked away to New York City to celebrate with relatives. His cell phone, which never had enough minutes anyway, had gotten lost during the trip.

Delia didn’t mention the panic she experienced within herself as she waited for Santi’s call over most of winter break. She fell into a darkness that cast her own family gathering in ghostly light. Santi was her boyfriend, but also her only real friend, and there was no one else she felt safe confiding in.

When Santi played with her heart, she suffered in silence and awaited his apologetic return to her. That was their pattern and general foundation. When he withheld his love, she would become completely swallowed up in fiery desperation.

Santi’s warmth calmed her anxious thoughts and she held on tight as her phone vibrated beside her.

“I want to stay with you all night.” Delia’s eyes watered. Santi looked to her phone.

“Me too.” his smile grew and consumed her. It felt like a spell cast upon her to reach for him infinitely. He wrapped his arms around her as they stood by the locked door. The party pulsed and radiated through the seams.

Delia waited for him to unlock the door as she couldn’t bring herself to do it. They walked hand in hand past his family and Delia gave them all a general wave as she made it to the front door.

Monster and Fluffy, his two shih tzus, circled her legs and licked her calves. She knelt down to kiss them goodbye. The party noises filled in her empty parts and warmed her skin.

“Bye.” Delia hugged Santi again as he shied away from one last kiss. He always felt too embarrassed to kiss her in front of his younger family members. She stepped out onto the front porch instantly being wrapped in icy air. She took a slow breath as she caught sight of her mother’s SUV and let go of any last strands of warmth as she lost grip with Santi’s hand.

Read Chapter One

Chapter Two

You Will Have To Try Harder

She had fucked it all up again.

Delia lit a candle then let her body fall onto the bed, burying her face into the pillow Santi had been using. Not a single drop of his scent remained. She called MaryAnn without thinking and her friend picked up instantly.

“You lost him again, didn’t you?” Her voice was warm.

Delia didn’t answer, but her crying was audible.

“Honey, I feel your pain. I’m so sorry.”

Delia had underestimated her mental state. She ended the call without a word, her friend would understand. She rolled to her side feeling like her body was pinned down with stones. Every inch of movement caused excruciating pain.

Time swept by her like a montage in some movie. A deep voice peppered the breeze outside her window and she managed to crawl towards it.

Oscar was home. He was pacing around the car chatting loudly on his cellphone. Delia sighed heavily and stopped watching him. She slid her back down along the wall until she reached the ground and dragged her knees to her chin. She didn’t know what she would say to him.

The apartment door swung open and all three cats emerged from their resting spots. Oscar moved right past them. He spotted Delia and met her at the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

Delia shook her head, “What time is it?”

“Band practice time! Almost 7. Just came home to get my sneakers.” Oscar kissed her cheek with so much intensity that she bumped the back of her head against the wall.

“Oh.” was all Delia managed to get out as Oscar moved back towards the door.

“We can get dinner tomorrow or something? After my shift.” Oscar shrugged. Delia was frozen, unable to answer him one way or the other. She folded into her knees and stared at the shadow her shape made on the hardwoods. “Or I’ll get a 6 pack. We can just hang at home, whatever.”

When she next lifted her gaze, he was gone.

Delia groaned and walked towards the bed. She snatched up a pillow and ripped the cotton case off of it. She repeated with the other pillow. She looked at the long silky tags and without another thought she let out a scream as she ripped each of them off in succession.

Fuck.

She fell backwards onto the bed and called up MaryAnn once more.

“Babe?” she answered right away again.

“I’m going to try again.” Delia nodded as if MaryAnn could see her confidence.

“Ok…Same outfit, okay? Same hairstyle. Same time.”

“I understand.” Delia felt tears falling down her cheeks.

“You will have to try harder.” MaryAnn warned.

“I know.”

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Chapter One

A Love Failure Story

Her hand grasped the doorknob and she knew it was going to be different this time. The feeling overcame her like pouring rain, soaking her to the bone, cleansing her of doubt. She let her smile shine from her eyes and her gaze fell on him like a spotlight.

“It’s you,” she didn’t wipe the tears that dripped from her cheeks.

“Hi,” he smirked, like he knew but wasn’t going to tell.

“Come in.” she didn’t hold back, she pulled him into her chest with everything she had. She found the spot on his neck she had always liked to kiss, the spot that was easy for her to access in their usual embrace.

“I like the colors of your house.” he followed her flowing green dress and dark curls up the stairs, their fingers interlaced.

“Come meet my cats.” she swung open the apartment door and three cats circled their legs. The two of them knelt down to pet each cat’s furry head and get a better listen of their purrs.

“Who do you live with?”

“No one.” she shrugged. She wasn’t exactly lying. In this timeline, she didn’t live with Oscar. She didn’t have a boyfriend at all, but of course her cats remained.

They were slightly different here. Opposites almost. 2 males and 1 female rather than 1 male and 2 females. All of the cats in this timeline were quite fluffy. One white, one orange, one shiny black.

“I went looking for you every moment.” he grinned at her through puffs of cat fur and meows.

Delia stood still, but internally she was vibrating with warmth. She wanted to bring Santi to her bed and forget about the rest of the world. She wanted to keep her face buried into the nape of his neck, holding his scent as close as possible as if her grip on him would make it possible to never lose him again.

She stared to hold his image as he held the black cat. His striped black cardigan looked just as it had when they were 16. His thick black hair lay straight and serious across his forehead.

Delia couldn’t stand it anymore, “Let’s lay down and listen to music.”

“Don’t you want to go do something?” he wondered.

“Laying down and listening to music with you is exactly the something I want to do. What do you say?”

Santi stood up slowly and held onto both of her warm hands, brown eyes reminding Delia of harder times. “Yes.” he kissed her cheek.

“Just like the first time.” Delia almost spoke just to herself as she used her hand to hold in the kiss’ magic. She would always remember his first cheek kisses. When it was too scary to land on lips, when they had no idea what they were in for.

Santi didn’t answer, but smiled. He knew it, but just couldn’t say it.

Across ruffled cotton bedsheets, their bodies breathed lowly while music danced all around them. Sunlight streaked the cluttered walls through half-closed curtains.

Delia used all her strength to hold onto the present moment. Their favorite music, their bare skin, their warmth. She kissed his cheek slowly and began to whisper.

“I lost my mind when I heard you died. I missed you so much.” she quickly drew her hands to her mouth, hoping to push the words back inside.

It was too late. Santi’s body turned cold. Then Delia was only grasping her bedsheets as she sprang up off of the bed and looked around the room.

He was gone.

Read Chapter Two

More short stories by Lila Cave-Park:

This is part five of a six part series.

1. Heat Exhaustion

2. Fever

3. Vole

4. Mud

5. Control

6. Patterns

That evening, Ruth felt as if she may be floating. She had been singing loud and full her entire drive home with her left arm reaching out the driver’s side window, hoping to hold onto the fresh air in between heavy rain drops. Nothing extraordinary had occurred between her and Tim, but her time spent watching him with the tractor felt powerful. She had accidentally made herself vulnerable and openly expressed her concern for Tim’s wellbeing, but her concern was accepted and reciprocated. This was a feeling she hadn’t remembered experiencing in several years, if truly ever.

As she took the off ramp of her exit from the highway, her cellphone rang. Her high drooped slightly.

“Hey.” She spoke calmly as if she had to hide her happiness.

“Babe, why don’t you meet me at the bar?”

“Um…” Ruth had been imagining a nice warm meal and a shower. “Okay. I’m just dirty from the farm, you know, I was in the rain a lot.”

“It’s fine. See you there.”

“Um, okay. Bye.” Ruth bit her lip.

“Bye, love you.” Her fiancé ended the call as Ruth imagined forming the right words in response.

By her third beer, Ruth had completely forgotten she was dirty at all. She smiled wide to the bartender and leaned onto her fiancé’s shoulder in between sips. After her first beer, she had explained her rainy day and working late with Tim. She even offered up the entire story, how she had insisted he shouldn’t work alone.

“You didn’t need to do that.” James scoffed.

“Of course I did.” Ruth suddenly wanted to take back every word. “James… come on.” But she knew it was too late; he had switched to withdrawal mode. She would have to beg for his return.

The third, then fourth beer came easily after that. James was at six and she needed to catch up. At 8 o’clock, they were starving and had lost count of their beers. They wordlessly stepped outside together and under the illuminated bar sign, James lit up his cigarette. Ruth watched him closely, wondering when last she had heard him speak. He looked at her with feeble eye contact and passed the cigarette to her.

“I got you a job at my shop, I think you should take it.” James reached back for his cigarette.

“Thanks, but the farm has been good.” Ruth swayed and longed to lean up against him.

“I’m not sure it has.” James stomped out the rest of the cigarette without offering Ruth the last few drags. “See you at home.”

“Wait, wait.” Ruth grabbed his sweatshirt sleeve.

“I’m not going to fight with you outside the fucking bar.” James shook her away.

James recklessly pulled out of the parking lot before Ruth had closed her door. As she started the ignition, her music blasted from the speakers, and she slammed the off button in an instant. That person she had been on the drive from the farm was long gone.

Ruth drove steadily home through large puddles and persistent rain. Her wipers couldn’t keep a clear image of the road for long enough. James awaited her on the front porch, already with another beer in hand. She dragged her feet over to him, her head drooping, the fight in her disintegrated.

“I’ll show you everything. At the shop. It pays better.” James was already talking before she lifted her head.

“James, I like my job.”

“You’ve been weird! Okay? I feel like I’m losing you. You’re so different.” James held his head in his hands. “You used to beg me to work at the shop. I got you a spot now, what’s the problem?”

Ruth looked into his eyes, but the intensity caused her to back off. Her hands found each other and she fidgeted, allowing the touch to calm her.

“Okay, okay, yeah, you’re right. I want that.” Ruth didn’t understand why she felt like crying. She placed herself beside James and folded into him. He finally held her back and they shared warmth.

They made their way inside and James followed her into the shower. As Ruth’s eyes met his through the steam, he smiled, holding her close as he watched the trail of dirty water fall from her skin and swirl around the drain.

Sunlight danced across the ceiling of their bedroom as Ruth squinted. She stretched her legs, then arms and rolled over to her side. Beside her, James’ chest rose and fell delicately.

Anxiety crashed over her as she wondered what time it was. She had definitely forgot to set her alarm. It was already 6:30, the time when she needed to be pulling out of her driveway.

With aches coming from her head and all over, she dropped from the bed and gathered acceptable pants. She chose one of three remaining clean shirts in her closet and threw it on. Breakfast would be a can of cold brew.

Ruth pushed her little truck to its limits, passing others on the highway at 85mph. The steering wheel shook. Trees and highway signs swirled together, becoming blurred out on either side of her.

Pulling onto the farm’s gravel driveway, her heart sat low in her gut. She tried not to, but glanced at the digital clock on her dashboard as she shifted into park. 7:06. Six minutes too late. Her severe reprimanding was imminent.

Previously published on Medium

Help me save for my son's pre-k program

More short stories by Lila Cave-Park:

This is part four of a six part series.

1. Heat Exhaustion

2. Fever

3. Vole

4. Mud

5. Control

6. Patterns

The sky sat above Ruth with a gray heaviness. Clouds seemed close enough to touch as rain poured hard across all 4 acres of farm land. The rain had started before Ruth woke up and it would continue with the same pace long past the sunset.

A morning spent knee deep in mud and cozy in her bright yellow rainsuit left her feeling more alive than she had remembered feeling in recent months. She sat across from her coworker Jen, faces splattered with mud and rainwater, exchanging stories about their cats and how they felt about Stranger Things.

The afternoon brought a change of scenery as everyone was assigned to unload freshly pulled onions into shallow black crates. They would be arranged in stacks as high as they would need until every last onion was laying in its own spot to embark on a month long journey of curing in the garage.

Ruth stared out from the garage door opening, yearning to feel the summer rain against her face and dripping on top of her head. Something about the constant gentle drops on her body made her feel at ease and she missed it instantly.

A hand on her shoulder mimicked the same feeling and she turned to face her friend.

“Hey Tim.” Ruth smiled. “I liked being out there.” Ruth motioned out the door.

“Me too.” They walked together to the giant pile of fresh onions. The fragrance clashed with the musty cement floors and walls.

The crew of 6 filled and stacked the crates until they were taller than Ruth. Dirt fell from the cracks as the crates were lifted and Ruth quickly learned to shut her eyes at the right moments. She had to keep reminding herself to keep her mouth completely closed since it always seemed to rest in an open position and the dirt would stick to her wet teeth.

For the last row, only Tim and Fred were tall enough to reach. Everyone else stood back and admired the tower. The pattern of crates interlocking and climbing high was mesmerizing. Lunch was approaching and Ruth longingly thought of the cut mango and ham sandwich waiting for her.

“Ruth.” Tim snatched her out of the lunch daydream.

“Hey.” Ruth ran her tongue over her front teeth a few times to eliminate any possible remnants of dirt.

“That was a good show! I can’t stop thinking about it.” Tim’s eye were wide, full of vibrance.

“It’s so good, right! Well, thanks for letting me bask in the a/c for a while.” Ruth hadn’t meant to spend another late afternoon with Tim, but as she retrieved her truck and subsequently offered to drop him at home, his house just seemed to call to her stronger than anything else.

They walked side by side to that day’s lunch area.

Ruth looked over to Tim and noticed all he had to eat was a bag of Fritos and a Gatorade. “What happened to your lunch?” she smirked.

“I didn’t sleep good last night…” He shook his head. “…and woke up so late.”

“What kept you up? Were you thinking about the demogorgon?” Ruth asked jokingly.

Tim looked up at her and seemed to begin another word, but it never materialized. He smiled to her and the silence infinitely unfolded between them.

Ruth reached to him, half her ham sandwich enclosed in her fingers.

As 4 o’clock drew nearer, Ruth felt uneasy with this new feeling of anticipation she was carrying. She no longer had an excuse to spend time with Tim. She would have to ask him outright and that felt devastating.

Ruth didn’t know how to hold a friend. In relationships, she struggled along the fine line of normalcy and making things weird, often accidentally turning human connection into obsession.

After throwing her lunch box into the cab of her truck, Ruth paused for a while at the bed. She had pulled on her rainsuit again and didn’t mind that the hood had fallen off and she was taking on water from the collar.

Suffering some sort of decision paralysis, Ruth looked down at her boots in mud. Rain drops landed beside them too fast for her to keep track of and she let herself space out so it all got blurry.

Ruth heard Tim’s footsteps sloshing in the flooded mud long before he stood before her. She instantly loved their recent bond and started panicking that her next words could make it all crumble.

“You really do love rain, huh?” he smiled. Ruth just nodded in response. A nod couldn’t ruin everything. It was safe. “The boss wants me to take the tractor out, can you believe him?”

“What?” Ruth was confused, disappointed and relieved all at once.

“Said he’ll give me a ride home if I work on unblocking this drain near the greenhouse while he goes to pick up his kid.” Tim shrugged.

“Don’t.” Ruth looked to him meaning to say more, but stopped herself.

“Why?” Tim laughed and Ruth began to laugh along with him. She contemplated telling him her exact thoughts, that maybe she wouldn’t sound ridiculous to him.

“You’re just reminding me of a book I read as a kid. This girl’s brother goes to mow the lawn on one of those riding mowers and no one hears him screaming when he gets trapped under it after getting swarmed by wasps.”

“Fuck.” Tim seemed to understand where she was headed, but she kept going nonetheless.

“You shouldn’t use that tractor with no one around is all I’m saying.” Ruth looked down at her boots again. “I read that book when I was nine or something, messed me up for years.”

“That’s brutal.” Tim shook his head. “That’s fucked up… You know what, help me then.” he reached towards her. “Can you stay an extra half hour or so?”

Ruth shifted her boots around in the mud and took a minute to let her excitement flow through her and settle.

“Yes.”

Previously published on Medium

Help me save for my son's pre-k program!

More short stories by Lila Cave-Park:

Out in the yard, Jack can almost see where the ocean begins. Soft green grass rolls out far past the wooden fence he built last year and once the land drops over a lumpy hill, wildflowers and thousands of stinging nettles sparkle under moonlight.

At 3am, morning dew has already made its entrance. Jack imagines that Sam has just embarked on a sailing journey to quench her thirst for adventure and need for empty space. She’ll leave, but promptly return as summer ends, like Pacey in Dawson’s Creek. Things will never be as they were, but there will be hope. This isn’t the final goodbye. Sam might make some mistakes and disappoint him, but they’ll have their chance to rekindle love.

Because this kind of love never truly goes away. It burns something quiet under the skin. Not flashy like a tattoo, but maybe even more permanent. Their love didn’t have a start date and neither of them would ever be able to fully close the door on it.

Jack collects the plastic toys his daughter had left splayed across the yard. He doesn’t mind that he cares more about their safety than she can right now. He’ll allow himself to care for them in these moments, just like he cares for her now.

One day, she won’t need him so much. She’ll drive herself around, she’ll go to sleep on her own, she’ll cook her own meals.

Jack imagines Sam’s sailboat, proud and strong, soaring through flowing crystal clear waves. Almost like a low flying bird, feet skimming the surface. He imagines her dark brown hair twisting and knotting in a constant breeze.

A magnolia tree waits for him at the farthest left corner of his land before wild nature takes over. The magnolia tree that Sam decorated with lights when their daughter had her first birthday.

Jack gazes at the pale pink clusters glowing under the moonlight. Why did Sam have to leave before her favorite tree bloomed? He sits underneath its cover and awaits her response.

He wonders why he always had to imagine her leaving him all those times. Was it premonition or did he will it all to happen? Was there something there in his soul that wouldn’t allow the space to breathe, to live in peace? He caused it all, didn’t he? Why did he always have to imagine the worst, most painful possibilities?

Jack stands up, letting his hair unsettle a few petals and they fall to his feet. He doesn’t need to wait for her answer, he was just kidding himself. Of course he already knew.

He leans softly on the fence. The ocean focuses into view much easier here. The water is silent from where he stands, but its breeze surrounds him. Directly in the middle of the moon’s shine and its reflection, a boat coasts bravely.

Jack doesn’t have to squint, he knows it is Sam smiling. She’s better off, she’s thriving. Their love seemingly severed, yet stronger than ever.

Some writing things I keep wondering about…

1. They always say not to start a sentence with ‘because’ but why do I love it so much?

2. Will books start to be printed with smaller paragraphs to match the reading style of online work? When I transfer my writing, I hate having to fix the paragraphs. Do you all write on word or something first? That’s probably a good call. Lately I’ve been too impatient.

3. I know we’re supposed to use a catchy photo, but sometimes I like when the photo is basic and the thumbnail is vague.

Now Noah must have had a lot of room on the ark
For all of them broken hearts
Stay with me now old crimson pal
Pain like this will even outlive the dark
They come after the blues
— Jason Molina, What Comes After the Blues

---

Help me save for my son's pre-k program!

More short stories by Lila Cave-Park:

She squeezes her body between the cement wall and car door. The familiar scraping of her knuckles against the bumpy stone reminds her that she never learns. Fresh blood pools out of yesterday’s scabs, but not enough to drip. It never is. She laughs to herself like usual as she imagines which neighbors might be watching her do this every single day and are perhaps having a laugh of their own.

Laugh with me sometime, she wishes silently.

Lucy retrieves the few bags of groceries waiting for her in the backseat. Darkness of another day checked off the list looms above her. Her most persistent audience lingers in her periphery-the moon. Tonight the illuminated crescent hugs the lower parts, barely hanging on. Lucy can only devote her stares to it for one more moment before she gets too sad. She wants the moon to tell her something, but they haven’t spoken in years.

Something bright alerts her from the street and she instantly forgets all about her sadness. She doesn’t hesitate, she lunges for it. Finally, something needs her complete attention.

Out in the street, the yellow flickering and bursts of heat captivate her entire presence. Her bags fall to her sides. Oranges and avocados roll away from her and the light. She sees her inner child and the total decimation of existence all at once. She feels the empty caverns of her yearning fill in with the heat. She’s happy and furious, dripping with sweat.

A hand rests on her shoulder and absorbs the wetness. Lucy is shaking as she turns to face the kindest eyes she has ever seen. She’s terrified, the kindness looks like the end of the world.

“What are you looking for?” the woman asks.

“Oh, come on. That is so tired. Can we talk about anything else?” Lucy pleads.

The light vanishes and the woman holds both of Lucy’s hands, covering the white scraped skin and clotted drops of blood. The street feels more vacant than usual and much smaller. Lucy blinks her eyes and night transforms into day. The woman never lets go.

“Do you need anything?” she asks.

“Just lay here with me.” Lucy implores. The pavement forms into soft green grass and dandelions. Millions of dandelions with no end in sight. “I just want to find it on my own.”

“That’s fine.” The woman releases Lucy’s hands and lays down first. Lucy smiles and follows her. Only a few clouds pass by and the sun is close to the horizon. A sunrise that begins to reverse after a handful of short moments. The pink and orange rays of the sun reach out to them stretching from the horizon and illuminating their bodies, casting purple shadows beside them.

Like Lucy’s favorite quiet friend, the crescent moon humbly appears in the twilight. “There.” She tells the woman.

“What is it?” the woman wonders.

Lucy tries, but can’t begin to form the right words to describe. Words always ruin it. It’s the friend she can’t talk to anymore that hurt her too much, but tried to apologize. It’s the friend she pretended for who hates her for the lies. It’s the friend that she left behind because she felt used. It’s the friend she saw like a mother who gave up on her too. It’s the friend who’s always with her but gets buried in pain every day.

It’s all of them. The warm light and heat from all of them. She admits to herself how she misses it.

Lucy feels a surge of energy pulling at her and driving past her. It is stronger than she can hold on to. The woman disappears and the meadow is in total darkness, save the crescent moon and her many twinkling babies.

It sounds like the moon is laughing, but it is gentle.

She isn’t imagining it; the moon is laughing with her.

Previously published on Medium

Help me save for my son's pre-k program!

More short stories by Lila Cave-Park:

This is part three of a six part series.

1. Heat Exhaustion

2. Fever

3. Vole

4. Mud

5. Control

6. Patterns

   ---

“I have never seen anything like it.” the nurse recoiled and pulled a nearby coworker over to Ruth’s exposed backside.

“Honey, where were you?” the other nurse’s concerned eyes reached Ruth’s embarrassment.

“I work on a farm. Maybe something bit me there.” Ruth was exhausted from telling the same story. This was the sixth time she had said it since she arrived at urgent care.

“There’s just so many little blisters. All concentrated in that one spot.” she kept shaking her head. “The doctor will be over soon. He’ll have a team of student doctor’s with him… Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Ruth closed her eyes tight. She meant to say no, but didn’t have the energy.

The fluorescent lights beat down on her vulnerable body. She missed the sunshine and hoped she could get out of there quick enough to catch the sunset on her drive home.

“Ruth,” Tim emerged from behind a curtain. “I keep trying that number. They’re not picking up.”

“Shit. It’s okay. I’ll figure out something.” Ruth took a deep breath and held it in for a few precious moments, hoarding the breath like she had something over it.

Exhaling, she turned to Tim, tears dripping down her face.

“I’m sorry. I feel dumb, it’s just…I thought maybe he would sense the urgency and answer.” Ruth wiped her cheek.

“Your fiancé?” Tim settled into a chair close to Ruth. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think we’re actually engaged anymore.” Ruth was quiet.

The doctor and his team of students stepped in between the two of them and without speaking, began to inspect Ruth’s confusing patch of blisters.

“Okay, well. Okay, what I think here is that you can just use a topical antibiotic. I’ll send it to your pharmacy.” he paused to let the students have a look. “Try to avoid going into bushes.” The doctor patted her on the shoulder and exited.

“You’re all set honey, you can check out.” The nurse nodded to her and left.

With the absence of the urgent care staff, the heaviness between Ruth and Tim multiplied with each passing second.

“It’s okay. I’ll get you home. I’ll help you get the ointment.” Tim left her phone next to her side and turned to walk away as the ringing began.

“It’s him.” Ruth swiftly pulled her pants up and answered the call.

Tim watched her appear to shrink in size as she explained the scenario and ask to be picked up.

“He’s at a bar near my house with friends. He said he’ll buy you a beer.” Ruth shrugged.

“Oh, that’s nice. Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been sober for a little over five years.” Tim smirked. “I’ll bring you, no problem…just don’t need the beer.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah, that’s cool, really. Good for you, Tim.” Ruth reached for his hands and squeezed them gently without thinking.

She fell into a memory of her fiancé a couple of nights before, puking and passing out after seven IPAs and fighting with her about her friend’s new boyfriend until 3am. She wondered if omitting this story in that moment made her a liar.

“Let’s go.” Tim helped Ruth off the table.

In the port-a-potty, Ruth revealed her supplies from a couple of pockets. It was tight in there, but she was too embarrassed to try reapplying her bandage out in the open for everyone to see.

Though there was a small part of her that wanted everyone to see the proof of her struggles.

She shuddered as she removed the adhesive tape and old gauze pad. She looked at it for too long, observing old skin, yellow spots and blood. It didn’t make her queasy, but the idea that it should upset her knocked at her stomach a little.

Once the new bandage lay flat, she slowly pulled her underwear and pants back up. Two deep breaths, then one more.

She stepped out back into the sunlight and ran to her post. She felt luckier than ever that Tim was her assigned partner again. Their task being to pull up hundreds of old carrots, as fast as they could.

If a vole popped up from one of the holes, they would have to squash it.

Their boss had demonstrated with his fists and another coworker relished in the memory of how he had killed six voles the week before.

Ruth didn’t say anything out loud, but she wasn’t about that part of farming and never would be.

She recalled becoming physically sick to her stomach on the afternoon where she spent several hours scanning the leaves of eggplant, tomato and pepper plants with the task of squishing every single potato beetle she came across.

Potato beetles were relatively big insects. Juicy. Feeling the pop and subsequent leaking of greenish guts made her miserable and she cried for the bugs later in the night. Even though she had found a way to squish them using a leaf to cover her bare hands, it hadn’t eased the discomfort or sadness.

“Ruth!” Tim was smiling wide. “How are you feeling? I can’t believe you came in today, honestly.”

Ruth laughed with him, “I’m okay. I just changed my bandage, it’s gross but doing okay. Got to get my truck back from you anyway, right?”

“Right, well good, I mean, I’m glad to see you doing okay.” Tim wiped his forehead spreading a thick line of dirt across it. Ruth felt like the she owed him some kind of explanation of her situation, but also didn’t know where to start

“I’m so relieved I can at least talk to you about it. And sorry that you had to be a part of the strange journey.” Ruth knelt down to begin working.

“It was an exciting way to spend my evening.” he smiled, “No problem at all.”

There was something special about the idea that he had seen such an ugly part of her and had stayed. Maybe it was shock, maybe desperation. Or maybe something stronger had willed them to stay close and see what might happen next.

Ruth and Tim sat directly across from one another in a squatted position. Birds sang bright songs in the woods behind them and the sunshine painted their arms yellow. The dirt was warm and loose.

Wordlessly, they began a carrot pulling competition moving faster and faster as they got closer to the end of the row.

They couldn’t help but laugh, and were fortunate to be far enough away from where the boss was working so that he wouldn’t storm over, demanding an end to the distracting nonsense.

The competition came to a screeching halt as both Tim and Ruth observed, at the exact same moment, a teeny fuzzy brown vole pop up from one of the carrot holes.

The two hardworking farmers locked eyes. Nature’s delicate sounds filled in the space of their silence.

Ruth grew anxious, still a little bit unsure of how Tim would proceed. In a split second, he smiled wide to her and stood still.

The fuzzy brown vole scurried through the dirt, left the row of old carrots and disappeared into the woods.

Previously published on Medium

Help me save for my son's pre-k program!

This is part two of a six part series.

1. Heat Exhaustion

2. Fever

3. Vole

4. Mud

5. Control

6. Patterns

Sunshine beamed brightly across their laps in the pickup truck. Ruth felt thankful it had moved from its previous position across her forehead.

“That’s me, the blue one on the right.” Tim tapped the inside of the door a few times. He was moving his hands a lot, he always did that.

Ruth parked the truck on the far left side of the driveway and admired the garden beside the house. “That’s amazing.” she said to Tim.

“Aw, thanks. Yeah, we all work on it pretty good.”

“Who do you live with?” Ruth nuzzled all three of her drinks in her arms.

“3 others. Friends.” Tim nodded. The house looked worn, but well cared for in the important places. Wooden shingles shed blue paint flakes. The garden was bursting with greenery, flowers and an abundance of life.

Inside, Ruth was grateful to find the living room had an air conditioner blasting. Without asking, she flopped down onto the couch. “My head is killing me.” Her attempt to apologize for making herself comfortable.

Tim disappeared into another room. There was no way Ruth would be able to sleep, but felt the desire to. The walls of the living room were painted maroon, but most of it was covered in posters and art.

When Tim reemerged, Ruth honestly had no idea how much time had passed. She sat upright on the couch and noticed instantly he had come out of the shower. She must have dozed off.

“I think I’m good to drive.” Ruth insisted.

“You sure? I was going to make a sandwich. Plenty for you too.” Tim stood up and Ruth thought for a moment as she watched him move across the room, tapping out some song along the walls.

“Shoot. Okay, yeah I’ll have a sandwich and then head out. Thank you.” Ruth felt laying on the couch was the best idea, but was compelled to follow Tim into the kitchen and explore.

She found a chair and sunk into it. Tim moved quickly, pulling together all of the supplies and laying them out on the table. Ruth had so much to say, so many questions to ask, but she remained silent.

Chills erupted from her core and out through her arms and legs. She felt something small signaling to her from the back of her pant’s waistband. The urge to reach for it grew stronger by the second. She panicked, unsure of what was going on in her body.

“You okay, Ruth?” Tim looked concerned as he spread mustard and mayonnaise together across two slices of bread.

“I feel weird.” she confessed. Tim looked closer.

“Food should help.” he scratched the top of his head, but kept his gaze on her. He assembled the sandwiches and slid one on a plate over to her. She took a bite and thanked him with her eyes.

“I’m getting married next month.” Ruth smirked between bites. She had meant to say pretty much anything else, but was never good at conversation.

“That’s cool,” Tim smiled and she could see tomato skin stuck in his front teeth. It made her giggle, which in turn made Tim start to laugh. It all got pretty hysterical for a moment.

Ruth took another bite listening to Tim’s lingering chuckles, but felt a sudden shift in her body temperature. The chills came back. She stood up and almost silently excused herself from the table.

“Hey, are you okay?” Tim stood up as well and caught her in his arms as she nearly collapsed.

“It’s my back, something bit me or something.” Ruth nervously ran her hand under her waistband. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

“It feels like a bunch of little bites or something?” Ruth’s embarrassment was at its highest level known to date. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I need a mirror. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to look?” Tim offered.

Ruth stared at him for a couple of moments and felt like laughing again. “Whatever, yes please. Just …what do you see?”

She tried to stretch backwards to have a look as Tim got closer to the problem. She felt ridiculous rolling down the top of her pants and underwear revealing a day’s worth of filth and sweat from the farm.

“Whoa,” Tim couldn’t stop staring.

“What! What is it?!” Ruth stretched further trying to see for herself.

“What the fuck is that?”

Ruth’s heart dropped. “Can you bring me to urgent care?”

Previously published on Medium

This is part one of a six part series.

1. Heat Exhaustion

2. Fever

3. Vole

4. Mud

5. Control

6. Patterns

Ruth liked when she got paired up with Tim on those long farm days because he always spoke candidly and would enthusiastically perform monologues detailing whichever current show or music he was into. You didn’t have to wonder or ask questions, he always got right to it.

Some days she wondered if Tim actually lived there on the farm. It was clear that the boss took some kind of pity on him. Tim could wear cargo shorts when the dress code was clearly stated as “pants only”. He never got in trouble for checking his phone, which he rarely did, but everyone else wouldn’t dare to even try.

Ruth would watch him and giggle along to the silly things that slipped out of his mouth. She loved his positive attitude when they were faced with a problem to be solved — he dove right in.

On Ruth’s fourth week of working on the farm, the temperature got up to 97 degrees and it stayed there. She had perfected the art of saving face and disassociating from her own body, so it didn’t come as a major surprise the way the heat exhaustion snuck up on her.

She felt faint and turned to a fellow farm hand that she had felt safest being vulnerable with. Monica assured her that it was no problem at all if she needed to take a break in the shade.

Ruth felt like a failure watching everyone continue their work in the blistering heat without skipping a beat.

Under the tall pine trees Ruth leaned on her hoe and contemplated laying down. She sipped her water and wanted to vomit. She watched sparkles float by the sides of her head and tried to close her eyes to shake them away. They remained.

4 o’clock finally arrived and after needing three separate breaks, Ruth was cleared to head home. She felt like the world was slipping away from her and crumbling into an abyss. She started to reverse her truck while squinting.

“Hey!” Tim rushed over to her. “Can I catch a ride today?”

“Uh, sure.” Ruth loved spending time with Tim, but she had really needed alone time to unravel and fully feel the weight of whatever the fuck was going on with her body. “Where do you live anyway?”

“Next town over. Ten minutes.” Tim buckled his seatbelt before the close of his sentence. Ruth was intrigued, she had misjudged him. “What do you got in your water bottle?”

“Huh?” Ruth rolled down the rocky hill leaving the vegetable farm in her rear view mirror.

“You got to add coconut water or a splash of Gatorade or something. Don’t drink just water alone. Someone shoulda told you that.” Tim laughed.

Ruth just smiled to him and then let the silence between them fill in the cab. They had a peculiar combined smell between the two of them in her little truck after an exhaustive day of sweat, dirt, and tomato transplanting.

“Ruth, are you okay? Why don’t you just drop me at the gas station. I’ll get you something.” Tim offered.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Ruth laughed, but it sounded shaky and she hoped she had hidden it well.

The gas station was crowded. Ruth shifted the truck into park and leaned forward with eyes closed atop the steering wheel. Tim left wordlessly and gently shut the door. Ruth considered laying down in the bed of her truck while she waited.

“Here! A few things to help.” Tim was next to her again. Ruth smiled slowly and eyed his selection of colorful drinks.

A blue Gatorade, a Canada Dry Ginger Ale, and a huge carton of coconut water.

“Ah! Perfect.” She took all three and held them between her legs. She delicately removed the caps one by one and took tiny sips. She hoped Tim didn’t mind waiting. She turned to him with so much to say, but remained silent and staring.

“Why don’t you just rest at my house until you feel better.”

Ruth’s cheeks were blushing, but luckily the sunburn hid that perfectly.

“Oh, okay. Yeah. Maybe a good idea,” Ruth nodded to him and shifted into reverse. Tim used a hand gesture to point her in the right direction and she began to feel what she assumed was the electrolytes and sugar frantically moving throughout her body.

Previously published on Medium

Twilight cracked the horizon as they placed themselves in the grass; exposed to anyone who might be wandering the path. Lucy was comfortable when he took her glasses off because the blurriness made it seem like maybe none of it was really happening.

She shouldn’t have been there. She should have put up a fight, but she longed for the early days of innocent love that didn’t scorch anyone and thought maybe Tom still held that space for her.

She sat in that same dark blurriness as he drove them back to her parked car in the grocery store parking lot. Plowing through stop signs and glancing over to catch glimpses of Lucy’s fear, Tom seemed to relax even further into the driver’s seat. In the midst of flying through the second stop sign, both his hands left the steering wheel as he lit up a cigarette.

Squeezing the armrest and holding her breath, Lucy trembled. Different layers of herself unfolded trying to find the best fit for the moment, but she just couldn’t keep up and fear radiated off of her skin.

She didn’t speak to him or yell at him to drive safer. She fought herself and stumbled over how she should approach the conflict within her. Words did not arrive until he pulled into a parking spot.

Outside of the car she stood summoning some kind of courage. He looked at her, but said nothing.

“I’m afraid of you!” Lucy shouted.

Tom scoffed, “Then why do you hang out with me?”

“I

don’t

know!” Lucy wound up her arm and with it commanded the door to slam shut.

With the slamming of the door, it was all shattered. The entire car seemed to break into sharp bits of glass and metal. Every last piece sent scattered across the pavement.

The illusion was shattered.

The illusion of love.

The illusion of purpose.

The illusion of it all meaning something.

Lucy didn’t try to retrieve any of the fallen shards and she let herself ache with the absence of Tom’s hold over her.

That would be all he would take from her.

Lucy did not fully grasp the weight of what had shifted, but already felt deeply that she would never see or hear from Tom again.

Without a single knock on the door, or even grasping the doorknob,
she’s screaming at the top of her lungs.

She’s not swearing or threatening her,
just screaming like something wild.

The shrill cry of a baby starts up down the hall,
a small dog barking one door down.

She is waking everyone up.

Somehow, a spark of sense is ignited within her and she quits hollering.
She bolts from the hall, down two flights of stairs
and out back under the moonlight.

She doesn’t know how to handle this anger,
how to release it correctly
or how to keep it pushed down inside where it had once rested.

The moon hangs over her shoulders and pushes her home.
She dreams of accidental death, a car crash, a fall.

Though some clarity remains and she can admit,
it is not her she’s angry with,
it’s him.

And herself.

He did this to her in a calculated way.

She did not wish for this, he initiated and now she has to suffer for it.

She had yearned to be free, to be authentic and true
but damage hides the well wishes
and her responsibility equals his.

The power he held over her, she wouldn’t yet have the words to pinpoint.

The clues she accidentally gave that her boundaries were weak,
that the growth of some parts of her emotional intelligence,
played out more like a toddler’s.

Don’t tell your boyfriend, he would say.
Like a coward, like an expert.

She watches her life crumbling one loose stone at at time,
no one is there to listen and even if they were,
she wouldn’t know how to speak.

She returns to her home and Ian waits for her lovingly.
She had been crying, but brushed the tears aside before he could notice.

In the dimly lit sky, he wouldn’t be able to spot any remnants.

Their cat greets her with its furry side against her calf.
She wonders how it doesn’t already know
it shouldn’t be so nice.
That she is a waste of space,
trash,
and shouldn’t be given the time of day.

She lies about where she was because it is easy now,
just heap that lie onto the pile of all the others.

Ian snores besides her,
while she waits feverishly for him to reply to any of her messages.

She feels a pain in her chest,
her black heart aches, her soul is missing.

She blames herself, but some things are hard to explain.
He is an expert, experienced.
He’s older and got her drunk.
He knew just when to say “I love you” so she wouldn’t run away.

She makes coffee when Ian wakes up.
Turning on the faucet releases a stream of water into the kettle.
She watches the stream closely, it has her full attention.
She listens to the tone of the water pressure shifting from loud,
to almost muted as the kettle fills up.

Ian needs to leave for the day and he leans in to kiss her cheek.
The timing is unfortunate,
a tear rolls down from her from eyelid, across her cheek,
and up against his nose.

He flinches, but doesn’t fully notice what has just touched him.

Guilt rests in the pit of her stomach
and seeps out through the blood in her veins.

She exits their home and walks slowly
with no intention of going anywhere or finding anything in particular.
She thinks of it like sleepwalking.

If Ian had stayed home, she would have both hooks in him and her heart wrapped around his waist.
When he is not there, she frantically looks for ways to kill time.
She feels whole when they’re together, but shrinks to half her size without him.

Hours pass by in brief empty moments.
Now night hangs low and thick.
It is weighing on her shoulders,
making it that much harder for her to trudge on.

She is not surprised where she ends up.
It looks like she is about to walk up the stairs to the second floor,
but then she hears a voice.

That deep, but immature and lazy voice.
He’s leaving and saying goodbye to his girlfriend.
He’s telling her that he loves her and that he’ll pick her up tomorrow
and they’ll go to the fucking beach or something.

She is frozen solid.

What the fuck?

She doesn’t speak at all or flinch or fucking anything.
He’s staring blankly right into her eyes.

Just leave me alone. Leave us alone. Go back home.

She’s ready to scream again, but not every part of her is working.
You fucking started all of this. Don’t be so fucking surprised.

It is not like I left you all alone. You have a guy too, remember?!

You just never quit playing with my head. She can’t meet his eyes anymore.

I’m sorry. Though his voice is angry and hollow.

No you’re not. You love this.

He steps up closer to her, listen, I’m sorry.

And his hands are at her arms, down her sides, at her hips,
and he lifts her up so she’s wrapped all around him.

They are hidden from sight.
After a whirlwind of moving, warm kisses and darkness
he lays her down in the back of the car, but pulls away.

Wait.

He may not have actually pronounced the word, but her eyes were locked right on to his trembling mouth making it extremely easy to read his lips and know.

He flimsily falls into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and speeds off.

She does a lot of forgetting and covering up of emotions.
She gets stoned.
Just goes until her brain melts to a boiling liquid and drips like honey out of her ear canals.
She goes until her eyes darken to a piercing crimson.

She only stops once she has passed out,
in her bed, on the couch,
in the back seat of his car.

Wherever.

She never cares if she is judged because this works.
She never looks back and regrets all of the fried brain cells.
She never feels guilty for doing this.

She doesn’t feel anything, but couldn’t possibly foresee how
this won’t be true forever.

Though it was a cheap and questionable bond that they had made,
it had somehow become sacred to her.

He saw her wild, he met her darkness,
and as painful as it was,
he now felt like home to her.

Previously published on Medium

She grasps Chelsea’s hands, speaking softly and direct. The house noises buzz around her ears but nothing seems to penetrate her isolated barrier.

It’s too late, he’s already got to her head. Riley’s eyes silently sadden.

Chelsea, he’s not a good person. At the party we had over the weekend, I had everyone get together to make him leave. He was violent.

Okay, Chelsea barely spoke audibly as she kept her glance bouncing back and forth between Riley and the junk drawer. She came out of her room for a lighter, not an intervention, and now all of her brain capacity was shutting down.

Chelsea had been drinking, but Riley’s words were sobering her one by one.

She admired Riley and had from the first moment they met. She was everything Chelsea wanted to be — a minimalist, an artist, an advocate for women from all walks of life.

In a painful exchange, Riley located the lighter and placed it in Chelsea’s palm, silently reminding her that she would be around if she needed any help.

Chelsea watched Riley climb into her loft before finding her way back to her own bedroom. The dimly lit kitchen creaked with her footsteps.

She swung the door open and found Theo sitting upright and smirking, like he had heard the whole conversation. He must have known long ago Riley would be upset with his return to the house.

Chelsea felt icy sensations in her legs as she took the few steps to get to her friend. Why couldn’t she make him leave like Riley could? Why couldn’t she ask for help?

Was this all the love the universe could offer to her?

Theo, her reluctant love of six months, sitting proud with a joint in his mouth — unapologetically sleazy and careless no matter which day you found him on.

Ten years her senior, unbothered by his growing list of haters, with his finely honed predatory techniques.

He knew just how to turn shit into love.

Chelsea tries to place the lighter in Theo’s palm gently, like Riley had done for her, but he is impatient and snatches it from her before she can.

It all felt like an act, a show to prove she was as careless as he was. To destroy whatever came before or might be waiting for her.

She positions her body across from him and watches his movements. He’s uncomfortable with her detailed observations, always is.

She leans in between clouds of smoke to kiss him.

To offer some kind of proof that they are bonded.

That this is love and she had asked for it.

Previously published on Medium

…Consider maybe buying me a decaf coffee <3