That Summer 4

This is a new sort of story for me. For one thing, I'm using a song by one of my favorite singers as inspiration. If you know the song, hopefully you understand where this story is coming from. Personally, I've always had a very vivid picture in my mind of what this song is about, even before I was experienced in the ways of men and women. Second, I've never written anything in the first person from the point of view of a man. So I apologize ahead of time if I've got any of the 'feelings' wrong. And finally, this story takes place roughly early-nineties and late-seventies. The song was released in 1992 and I've made my narrator 35 years old.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you like it at all, please let me know. Your positive feedback encourages me to continue writing and without such encouragement I would be lost; adrift in a sea, bereft of love and adoration. Won't someone save me, please! (Just kidding! I enjoy a little melodrama every now and again.) Please read and enjoy!

M.

***

"What's the matter Erik?" The woman lying in my arms asks, twisting to peer back at my face.

We are lying in my bed, spooning post-coitus. Her hair is in my face and while I'd found it lovely upon first meeting her six weeks ago, now I want nothing more than to push it away from my nose. Her gently curved ass is pressed firmly against my groin and although I feel the faintest stirrings of arousal, I know it isn't because I am attracted to her.

At her question I realize I can't put off the inevitable any longer, however much I'd been hoping to avoid this. Sighing, I move away so that she rolls over and props herself on her elbows to look down at me. I smile but I know from her expression that it isn't fooling her.

"Erik," she says my name again and I cringe inwardly to hear it fall from her lips in such a tone; as though I am a wayward child and her the nanny trying to straighten me up in time for dinner.

"Gloria, I'm sorry," I say at last, not touching her, not attempting to soften the blow at all. "This just isn't going to work."

"What?" She asks, blinking at me and slowly moving into a sitting position. "I don't understand."

"It's over. I can't see you anymore." This isn't rocket science Gloria, I add silently.

"But...I thought...aren't we having a good time?" She asks, leaning forward and reaching a hand out to touch my face.

I draw back, not letting her touch me. Her hand falls to the bunched up sheets and her eyes slide away from my face. I draw in a breath, relieved that she's not freaking out.

"You're a bastard, Erik," she finally says, her voice low and no longer containing any of her earlier affection.

Hold the phone. Possible freak out in progress.

"You waited until after you'd screwed me to tell me this?" She demands, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

I shrug, as though to say, 'meh, I've been accused of worse.' So I'm a sexual being. So sue me.

Making a noise of disgust, she throws the covers off and rises to her feet. I watch as she moves around the dim room, retrieving her discarded clothing. I wish I could say that watching her move made me regret my words to her but instead all I see is a golden brown curtain of hair and a slash of tanned skin.

With another huff, Gloria straightens up and tosses her raven-colored hair over her pale shoulder, flashing her furious blue eyes in my direction. I know that she's waiting for me to apologize but I can't bring myself to do it. It's over and just because it isn't her fault doesn't make it less true.

"I hope you know what you're giving up here, Erik," she says as she stands in front of me, clutching her clothes to her body.

I don't respond. She spins on her heel and stalks out of my bedroom. As she disappears from view, I flop back against my pillows, breathing a sigh of relief. I listen to the sounds of Gloria dressing herself in the front room and close my eyes in an attempt to shut out the noise. She is muttering to herself and after what feels like an eternity, I hear the front door slam, rattling the wall hangings.

It's not her fault. Truly. How can it be her fault when she never even knew Alice? With a sigh, I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, trying in vain to erase the picture of the woman from my mind. But she never went away. No matter where I am, no matter what time of day, no matter who I fuck, Alice is always with me.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I decide to get out. It's not that late, maybe just past midnight and there's no way I'll be able to fall asleep now.

I dress quickly and throw on only a light jacket before grabbing my wallet and car keys and heading out. I jog down the steps of my apartment building, avoiding the elevator as usual. Part of the reason I am still in such great shape at the ripe old age of 35 is that I run on a regular basis and lift weights at the local gym. Unless I'm extremely tired or drunk, I always take the stairs.

Outside, the fresh air calms me and I suck in a deep breath, hopping from one foot to the other. Once that's out of the way, I hurry up the dark street to where my car is parked. I get in, start the engine and start driving.

It's only when I hit the city limits and see the endless fields beginning to stretch on all sides that I realize what I've done, where I'm headed.

After another three hours, I see the buildings in the distance and pull off the deserted highway, parking the car on the shoulder. I keep my eyes focused on the far off shadows of a barn and farmhouse as I turn off the engine and get out. I'm afraid suddenly as I walk around the car; afraid that someone might see me and come after me with a rifle or something. Then I laugh out loud, the sound swallowed up almost immediately by the empty expanse surrounding me.

I lift myself onto the hood of my car and lean back against the windshield. The tall stalks of wheat move one way and then the opposite as the night wind sweeps across the fields. Eventually my eyes stray from the farm buildings to the sky and I am still smiling as I watch the clouds slide slowly across the stars, alternately blocking and revealing the cosmos to me. Slowly, I lose myself in the memories, allowing myself yet another moment to wallow in them.

That summer, I think and grin. I lift my hands and place them behind my head as I cross my legs. That was the summer...

***

Nothing.

But.

Wheat.

Fields full of wheat. Endless miles of wheat.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I grumbled as my father slowed to turn down a gravel road off the highway. I sulked on my side of the car, chin in my hand. I was pissed as hell that my father was driving me to this god-forsaken farm to work for the summer.

"I didn't talk you into anything," my dad replied mildly, not looking away from the windshield. "Your mother and I warned you that if you didn't hold up your end of the bargain, you'd be working where we chose this summer."

"You didn't say you'd ship me off to some middle-of-nowhere-hole-in-the-wall-land-of-nothing-but-wheat-farm!" I retorted, finally turning away from the window and directing the full force of my glare at him.

He just smiled. "If you pull up your grade-point average next year, then you can work wherever you like, Erik," he said. "But until then, this is where you'll be."

"This is so not fair."

"The deal was we'd pay for college as long as you kept your grades up," my father went on, slowing down as the farmhouse grew larger at the end of the driveway. "Pouting and yelling isn't going to change the fact that you failed two courses and barely scraped by in your other three."

I refused to say anything else. My father must have realized that because he remained silent until pulling to a stop in front of the farmhouse. I looked up, my eyes sweeping along the framework of the ancient building and narrowing when I saw the shape of the roof. It dipped in some spots and several shingles were missing. The window frames were in some serious need of painting and the front storm door was hanging precariously from one hinge.

One good storm and that thing is coming right off, I thought with a sigh.

"Come on, Erik," my father said to me, opening his door and getting out.

I obeyed, knowing myself to be completely screwed. I followed him around to the trunk where we pulled out my two suitcases. Then we walked up the front porch steps - which creaked unbelievably ominously - and knocked on the front door. I stood there, looking down at my feet and scowling, wanting to be anywhere else with every fiber of my being. After a minute I heard footsteps from inside and my mind began formulating several possible pictures of the owner.

My father had told me she was a widow, who periodically hired students to help on her farm. She'd apparently been living alone at this place for almost ten years since her husband passed and somehow she'd managed to keep the land for herself.

I pictured a decrepit old spinster, surrounded by cats and that smell that always seemed to accompany anyone over a certain age. I imagined that she had stringy white hair, all coiled into a bun and thick glasses, which likely did nothing for her vision. She'd shout at me because she was deaf and cackle like a witch when she laughed. All this and more crossed my mind in those moments leading up to meeting her.

Instead, Alice answered the door.

She smiled as she greeted my dad who held his hand out to shake and I saw that her teeth were not actually yellowed and falling out. They were two quite perfect rows of white. The hair, although pulled away from her face, was not stringy or white. It was a lovely brown color, lightened in streaks by the sun. Her face was darkened with a tan and there were lines at her eyes and around her mouth but when she smiled again, they disappeared, sliding seamlessly into the face of a beauty.

"Erik," my father said, his voice breaking into my silent study. "Erik!" He said again, louder this time, accompanied by a hand clap on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ms. Jenkins, he's been in a bit of a bad mood all morning."

"I have not!" I replied swiftly, feeling my face color immediately.

My father merely raised his eyebrows at me and looked back at the woman before us. "Erik, this is Alice Jenkins," he said. "She's the owner and operator of the Square One Farm."

"Nice to meet you, Erik," she said to me.

I think I said something along the lines of, "Nice to meet you too," but I could never be sure after that moment of anything I said.

Beside me, my dad chuckled and patted my shoulder. "I'm sure Erik will be able to help out with a lot around here Ms. Jenkins."

"I hope so," she said and the smile on her pretty face drooped a bit, revealing something of her age. "There's certainly enough to keep him occupied for the entire summer."

"Glad to hear it," my dad said.

I frowned at him but he only smiled.

"Well, I guess I should be off," he said then, shaking Alice's hand once more. "Erik, walk me to the car, will you?"

I nodded and followed as he strode back across the driveway. He faced me and placed two hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look into his face. His mouth moved but I can't say for sure what he said to me. All I could think about suddenly was Alice's smile and the way small bits of hair had come loose around her face.

"All right?" My dad said and patted my shoulder, jerking me back to reality.

"Yeah, Dad," I mumbled and suffered a light hug, feeling my face flush yet again.

"Take care of yourself and remember to call your mother every Sunday," he told me and got in the car. "I'll see you on August 31st Erik!" He called out the window and drove away.

I turned around and slowly made my way back up the porch to stand in front of this woman who was my boss for the next three months.

"I bet you must be tired from your trip," she said with a smile and I was rendered immobile and mute. She looked at me for a minute and the whole time I wondered if she thought I was a complete idiot. But she just opened the front door and grabbed hold of one of my suitcases. "Come on, I'll show you to where you'll be staying. You can rest for today and we can start in the morning."

I watched her disappear inside the house, swallowed up by the shadows entirely before I jumped to action, lifting my other suitcase and following her quickly. I hardly noticed the interior of the house. All my attention was focused on the body moving ahead of me.

Alice had a pretty face and an absolutely stunning figure. I may not have dated a lot of women at this point in my life but I knew what I liked. She had long legs, encased snuggly in dark jeans. Her shirt was loose and not fitted but her shoulders were narrow and feminine. Then she began to climb some stairs and I had to suck in a breath when confronted with her slender, belted waist and her perfectly round ass. Somehow we made it up the staircase off the side of the kitchen and it led to a small room over the garage with a sloped ceiling and gabled windows.

"This was my nephew's room last summer when he stayed with me," she said. "He said it got a little cold at night but otherwise he didn't seem to mind it." Her face turned to me and I felt a little lost suddenly as I looked into her green eyes. She smiled again as she set down the suitcase and stood aside, allowing me space to walk further into the room. "Hopefully you aren't too cramped in here."

I surveyed the space and shook my head slowly in response to her remark. It was small, with a bed pressed in one corner and a dresser on the opposite wall. There was also a rocking chair in one corner by a window with a blanket thrown over it.

"Well, I guess a young man like you doesn't need a lot of space," she said with another smile, still standing near the door.

I nodded at her as I set my other suitcase down near the bed. She cocked her head to one side and studied me quietly. I felt myself blush yet again under her scrutiny.

"You don't say much, do you?" She asked.

I shrugged. "I guess," I mumbled and looked down at my feet. Damnit!

She laughed and I thought I'd pass out from the bright, ringing sound of it. "Don't worry, Erik," she said. "I don't mind if you're shy. I spend most of my time talking to myself here anyway so it won't make much difference."

I found myself smiling back at her and she nodded as though satisfied with that progress.

"I think I'll let you get settled," she said after a moment. "Come down to the kitchen when you're ready and I'll make something for you to eat."

I nodded and watched her turn and leave me alone in the bedroom. Exhaling sharply, I sat down on the edge of the bed and held my head in my hands.

Although my mom and dad thought they'd been doing the right thing by sending me to college to further my education, they had no idea how difficult it had really been for me. My grades, although decent and steady all through high school, had gradually dropped during my freshman year of college. Not because I was stupid, although after the past ten minutes I felt like a moron, but rather because I couldn't focus in any of my classes.

For starters, my roommate and I did not get along. He was a complete genius and not a nice, nerdy genius, but a haughty, know-it-all genius who chose to remind me of my inferiority every day. I was accepted on the football team but spent the entire season watching games on the bench, assigned to towel duty. Spring didn't offer much improvement in the way of extra-curricular activities since track wasn't as 'sexy' as the contact sports. I ran anyway, since it seemed to be the only outlet for all my frustrations, socially and sexually.

To top it all off, I had absolutely zero luck with the girls on campus. I think I was rated somewhere between the first year dropouts and those who spent their time reenacting the sixties.

And now here I was. Stuck at a farm in the middle of nowhere with a veritable goddess and I couldn't even put together a complete sentence.

This was going to be a long summer.

***

As it turned out, the time began to flow by almost at a breakneck speed. True to her word, Alice started me working around her place the very next morning. It began with odd jobs on the house itself; fixing the front storm door and sanding and painting the window frames. I spent a week on the roof fixing as much as I could and installing new shingles everywhere I could get too, especially over my own bedroom.

It had been during the first rainstorm that I realized why Alice's nephew had said it got cold in that room. I also knew why the bed was shoved all the way in one corner; it was to avoid the leak directly above the center of the room. After my patch job though, no water came through during the next storm. It was still bloody cold but Alice provided me with extra blankets to help.

Alice did that a lot; providing me with everything I needed. She almost knew what I needed before I asked for it. After making me dinner that first night, she'd informed me that I was to fend for myself during the day but she'd have a meal on the table every night at 6 o'clock promptly. If I wasn't inside seated at the kitchen table, my food would go to the dogs. She said this with a smile though and as I got to know her better, I began to recognize her sense of humor.

She laughed a lot and we spent a lot of nights at the kitchen table just talking. After the first week or so I wasn't so tongue-tied around her and she opened up even more as a result.

Then the weekend of July the 1st rolled around. And something changed.

All day that day I'd been thinking about my family and friends back in my hometown. I knew the entire town would be decorated in anticipation of the holiday and I longed to join in the festivities. Alice had said that the nearest town, which was about an hour and a half away, did a big picnic but she didn't usually go.

"Mostly families," she'd said and smiled though her eyes didn't reflect the expression.

It was moments like that when I thought about how old she really was and how she'd been widowed at a relatively young age. She'd yet to tell me about how her husband died and I wasn't that much of a clod to bring it up. So I worked, on the house, on the barn and in the fields, doing whatever she asked of me and trying not to miss my home.

At six that night I hurried inside, the door almost slamming behind me. The wind was furious outside and I knew there was a storm rolling in.

"It's going to be bad, I think," Alice said with a smile as she carried a casserole dish to the table.

I nodded in agreement as I sat down. She sat across from me and told me to go ahead and serve myself. I dug in eagerly, feeling my stomach rumble with hunger. I hadn't stopped for food all day and it wasn't long before I was on to my second helping of everything.

"I'm sorry that you missed out on the celebrations today, Erik," Alice spoke up after we'd finished almost everything.

"It's ok, Ms. Jenkins," I replied, looking up at her. God but she was beautiful and I had to stop myself from checking for drool nearly every time I saw her close up. She did have some grey in her hair, around her temples and some silver strands on top of her head. But she didn't look old otherwise and she certainly didn't act like a spinster widow.

"Erik, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Alice," she said and rose from the table, carrying the dirty dishes to the sink.

"Ms. Jenkins, my mother told me to always address a lady properly," I replied and was rewarded with her broad grin.

"A lady?" She repeated, her eyes twinkling.

For the first time in weeks, I felt myself at a loss for words. I felt my face grow warm and looked down at the table, unable to look at her any longer. She laughed and I heard the water turned on in the sink.