Isn’t it hot for a day in Autumn? Aren’t the girls impressed?
There’s a tent. A big, ugly, bright orange tent by the site, see? Hatch’s dad put up the tent. He’s inside with a girl, Lisa, rolling around, fucking probably. I’m outside listening with my girl, Laura. We haven’t talked much, but that’s okay, we occasionally throw a rock or something at the side of the tent to see if Hatch and Lisa notice. They don‘t. Probably too busy fucking.
I’m happy for Hatch. I’m happy to have a place like this. I can come out here anytime I want and fuck a girl. First, I have to find a girl willing to fuck. Laura won’t fuck me and that’s a big let-down, given the fact that I’ve bought her so many gifts I can’t even remember what I’ve given her. But there’s Hatch fucking Lisa and here’s me and Laura, talking about the fucking sunset.
“It’s beautiful,” she says. She’s beautiful.
“You’re beautiful,” I say back. Her hair is the golden color that grown men remember. I make a point to remember it too.
Laura smiles and I hear Lisa a little. Or maybe it’s Hatch. It’s the sound of skin on orange vinyl, whatever it is. A weird, soft sound.
“You like the place?” I ask Laura, over the brushing of the tent floor with the leaves.
“Yes, oh yes it’s quite nice,” she says.
“Yep , we’ve got two sturdy levels now.”
“I can tell.”
“Even the field mice have noticed. I fucking hate mice and there’s two on the second level.” I really do hate mice. One crawled up my shirt once when I was asleep in the yard. Had to get a shot for rabies after that. The guys still call me Mickey.
“I haven’t seen any mice,” Laura says, she checks her foot. Then the other. “Or mouse droppings.”
“It’s not the sturdiest part of the whole tree house, up here.”
“It’s still nice.”
“What about the bench?”
“Very nice.” Laura looks out of the big hole we have yet to cover with plywood or sheetrock. Laura’s thinking about something, I can tell. She squints her eyes when she’s thinking about something and they‘re nearly closed now.
“It was tough without a saw, to build the bench, that is. We had to find two-by-sixes with the right length else it wouldn’t fit. Hatch did it all without a level; I found the wood at that abandoned farm at the end of the development.”
“Where John Yoder stores his hay bales?”
“Yeah, John Yoder,” I say back. John Yoder is the blonde, tanned asshole who owns the development. Laura is friends with his daughter Lindsey. They‘re a real pair, I guess you‘d say. Always going out to malls, the movies together.
“It’s creepy as hell out there,” I say, “but even creepier up on the roof of the second level.” I look off at the sunset again. It’s orange. Only Hatch goes up to the second level. He calls me a pussy for not following him up there but I ain’t stupid. He’s from Alabama, those kids are all crazy, fearless rednecks. Got to respect him for that, he’s up there without a harness every time we build. I’ve been up there once, to check if I could see my house. I can. It’s not very clear, but I can see the blue siding and the chest-high grass in fields near it.
Laura coughs, “They’re really going at it.”
I don’t really know what to say to that. Sure, Honey, they’re fucking, like we should be! That’s what I should say.
“Gets damn romantic out here,” I finally say.
“Yep,“ Laura says. I remembered her stepping on big, round rocks, like gray sea-turtle shells, over the barbed wire that was intended to hold in the cows on our way over. But the cows are all long since gone, their sloppy, stupid souls mulling cud through their teeth in Cow Heaven. Or probably Cow Hell.
Laura really plowed through that grass. It has these little hard buds that smacked our arms when we walk through and she just ignored it all.
“You think that grass out there looks like opium?“ I ask.
“What does opium look like?” Laura asks back.
“I guess like that grass out there. Maybe.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
The swishing of vinyl is getting faster. I’m surprised the old boy has held out for so long.
“One time we saw a black snake out there.” Laura says.
“Who?”
“Me and Hatch.”
“You and Hatch?”
“Yeah.” Laura looks down. I know what that means.
“What were you doing out there?”
“I got bit,” Laura shows me her ankle. Two little pinhole bites.
“I don’t fucking care about your bite.” I say. Hatch took Laura out here? Without me?
Laura stands up. “Then what do you care about?”
I’m an honest guy, “I care about making love.” I say, “Making love to you.”
Laura thinks, then says, kind of regretfully, it seemed, “All the girls at school say I should’ve slept with you by now. For the ring, for the constant attention. All that stuff.”
“Exactly!” Exactly is right, I think. That ring was expensive. I saved up three shifts from caddying to get that ring!
“I don’t think I want to just yet.”
“Why not? Don’t you find me attractive?” It was a ploy I had used earlier, to no success. Of course she found me attractive.
“I…” She waits.
“You what? You don’t love me?”
“Yes I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody.” I believe her. She’s a sweet girl, Laura. Beautiful too, just like I said. I put my hand on her skinny, bare leg. Her shorts are really up there. I could pull them aside and finger her if she’d let me. She’s very tan, too. I like that.
“You love me?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says.
“Then why don’t you make love to me?” I ask. It was an honest question, really.
“I want to wait to marriage.”
I think for a second. Then I say, “You know that ring I bought you?”
“Yes, we were just talking about it…sort of.”
“I meant it to be an engagement ring.”
“What?” Laura’s eyes are like little bulbs of blue. I know when she believes me when they turn into glass like that. It’s obvious.
I get down on my knee, take her hand into mine. It‘s very soft and delicate. It feels like a little bird. Fragile. “Will you marry me, Laura?”
“Yes!” She cries, brings me up to hug her and cries some more, “Yes I will!”
“Good.” I say. The wind comes in, the sun is setting and Hatch and Lisa must be done or maybe dead. They’re very quiet. Killed by fucking. What a way to go!
We sit back down to where we were. Laura grabs my hand and squeezes it. She looks off into the sunset again. We don’t take for a few minutes, sucking in the moment, you know?
Laura finally asks, “Isn’t it a hot day for autumn?”
“Isn’t it a wonderful day to look for the future?” I ask.
“Yes,” Laura squeezes. “Yes it is.”
“Isn’t it a wonderful day to make love?”
“Yes,” Laura takes her hand from mine and undoes the fly on her shorts. Her panties are bright pink. They’re the color I expected, really.