Dear Faithful Readers - Let's start the New Year with a many parts story of love and adventure in the great Northwest. Follow Mickey and his women friends as they discover hard work and hard play!
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Don't Use Jargon - Part 1 - Mickey has a degree but no job
Chapter 1 - Caitlin
I was newly graduated from the University of Oregon with a B.A. in English and had the usual young writer's problem of oscillations from brilliant self-confidence to black despair. I was also hung up on the word 'dysfunctional.' This was partly because the only professor for whom I had any admiration was a bear on jargon words, and partly because my Irish family was stereotypically dysfunctional.
There were other problems. I didn't drink, which made me an outcast from my family, all of whom knew the inside of every bar in Douglas county. I didn't have love affairs that ended badly and violently. In fact, for no reason that I could discern, girls seemed to like me, and even better, went to bed with a smile, a laugh, and a fine orgasm on the end of my oversized cock. Which was hardly a problem except that I feared romance would lead me to marriage and the end of my career before I ever really learned to write.
This morning, however, there was no time for mooning over the story line for a saleable book. Sheila called while I was still in bed to report that Caitlin had disappeared again. Of the four McCullough kids, we were the youngest, and the only ones that did not fight continuously. My mother had until recently been a good Catholic, and therefore popped out babies in accordance with God's will and a lack of birth control. Caitlin had been the fourth, and the cause of Sheila's decision to quietly instruct her doctor to make damn sure the tubes were tied and no record made of the procedure.
"Mickey, I don't know what caused it this time. She gets these ideas in her head, doesn't say boo, and disappears in that rattletrap Celica."
"Mom, you are not to worry. It will bring on a migraine and you will be lying in bed in the dark for days. Let me chase after her."
My mother's family, the McIntires, passed down a tendency to migraine in the female line. She had been to the university medical clinic in Eugene several times for treatment and went home with little more than painkillers and instructions to avoid stress and a list of suspect foods.
Sheila confined to her bedroom with the shades drawn was very bad for the McCullough family. My father, Conor, a logger like his father and grandfather, was working harder for less as cutting in the Oregon forests inched toward the last of the virgin trees. My older brother Luke drove a second truck when there were trees to haul, but was working at a state highway maintenance facility on second shift to make ends meet. His girlfriend Patti was the assistant manager at a tire store and grumpy because they couldn't afford to marry and start a family.
Sheila was the glue that held us all together. The Mom with a hug and a smile. But Conor's drinking was getting worse. If Luke was around to share the whisky bottle, and the two of them got their women to drinking, the results were usually bad.
Caitlin hated all this with a passion. She hated being very smart in a family where IQ had been handed out sparingly. She hated being half the size of her dad. When she got so mad and unhappy she couldn't stand it, she would get in the broken down car and drive an hour to my attic room at school and camp there, waiting to pounce when I returned from class.
We had a deal that, for one hour only, she had free rein to physically attack me. Fortunately for my body, she usually ran down before the hour was up, and curled herself in my arms for a good cry. After that, she would attack my lips with hers and pull my hair as viciously as she could, exclaiming, "Mickey, what am I going to do? What am I going to do?"
I would take her to one of the hole in the wall restaurants that flourished in Eugene and gently attempt to convince my incredibly smart younger sister that life was not all bad. This was a losing battle, because Caitlin's list of McCullough family transgressions was very long and ever lengthening.
What my mother didn't know was that by the time she missed Caitlin, usually at night, the teenager was already in my bed. At this very moment, she was freshly showered and powdered and snuggled to my side, holding our shared cup of coffee.
My conscience clear, I lied like a fish to protect my sister. The thanks I got was to have my manhood stroked tenderly until I found an excuse to hang up on Mom, and return the attack. Caitlin had been trying to have sex with me since she was sixteen. This scared the bejesus out of me, and resulted in a recital, accompanied by hard swats to her rear, of the several ways we could receive jail terms for unlawful intercourse. For the past year or so, that argument had failed, because I was twenty-one and she was nineteen. But I was still holding her off. Something told me that if you crossed the bridge of familial sex, there wasn't any way back.
"Mom, you are not to worry about Caitlin. She is a tough little tramp and I will track her down and maybe get that car fixed up. I'll call you tonight, or sooner if I find her."
Caitlin was frenching me as hard as she could, her knee in my crotch.
"God, Mickey, I wish I could lie as well as you do. She doesn't suspect a thing."
One part I liked about these visits was the wrestling. Caitlin was small, compact and knew how to use her muscles to advantage. It always ended with her getting off on some part of my anatomy, crying out, "Cock, Mickey, I need your beautiful cock."
Sometimes she took me in her mouth, and sometimes in a towel. Sleep quickly overtook our sated bodies and held the world at bay for a few hours. Until we sat like this, sipping from a single cup of coffee, and staring at each other.
"Mickey, I have to do something with myself, and I'm not working at Burger King."
I switched her around so she could lie on my chest while I worried her chest.
"Playing with my tits isn't bringing in any money."
I let that hang out there, my hand resting on her breast and my teeth nibbling the back of her neck.
Finally, she turned over and whispered, "We have to go away somewhere. Somewhere secret. Somewhere I can have a job and you can write."
I was done with school and had to be out of my attic space by the end of the week. We got dressed and I worked on packing while Caitlin explored online job ads.
Suddenly, she shouted, "This is perfect! Come look."
A junior college in Yakima was advertising for summer help. An English instructor and an administrative assistant to help with student paperwork.
My intense sister was a dynamo of action. "There is an email drop and a phone number. We will send them resumes and then phone and say we are driving up for an interview tomorrow."
She jumped into my arms and hummed happily, showering me with kisses. "We will save up and after summer session I will find something better to do, and you will write in our cabin in the woods."
"What are we going to do about Mom and Dad? They will have a fit."
"You are the only college graduate. The fair haired son who can do no wrong. After we are offered jobs tomorrow, you will call Sheila and explain the situation."
I wondered what explanation that was, but put my arms on her shoulders and asked, "You are sure this is what you want? No more going home?"
"No more going home, Mickey. That's over. You keep telling me things aren't so bad. Well, we are going to go find out!"
Chapter 2 - Emily's Place
To my amazement, Caitlin's scheme played out exactly as she predicted. After the interviews were confirmed, the Celica was filled to overflowing and chugged out of town. I decided the route on highway 97 was the best bet for surviving the trip. The muffler had a new hole, so we announced ourselves along the way. The Columbia River crossing at Biggs Junction cemented the end of the Oregon memories we were leaving behind.
Caitlin kissed me in the middle of the bridge and said, "Goodbye old life, hello new life." Her eyes were shining and I realized that whatever else was happening, my sister was finally liberated from a miserable existence in a nearly dead logging town.
After a forgettable night in a cheap motel, we showed up at the college for our ten o'clock interview, which was with Edith Albright, the chair of the English department. She was fiftyish, neat and organized.
"You have come quite a distance for a personal interview. That's unusual. Why do you want this job?"
I was direct. "I would like to make a living with my writing. This sounds like a good way to have some income while I sort that out. I was a TA for several terms at school and enjoyed it."
She turned to Caitlin, "And you, Ms. McCullough?"
"I am Mickey's kid sister and he looks after me, even though I'm nineteen now. There is no work at home, and when I saw the two postings, I told him we should come here to convince you to hire us."
