"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Twenty-Eight
By Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Hi, Farm Boys in Distant (not Montana) Lands;
Winter is gone! Spring is here! And guess what: THEY'RE THE SAME FUCKING THING IN CENTRAL MONTANA! We're expecting a foot of snow within the next day or two.
Chapter Twenty-Seven is now history, along with the stuff that throttled me. This chapter closes out the past three days for Jozef and Marc. It's the final big sigh we all take before we rest and put the immediate experiences behind us.
I want to take this opportunity to thank each and all of you. Sincerely, you make this project more enjoyable---as well as introspective----than I thought possible. Thank you, too, @nifty.org, for your grossly unrewarded diligence in providing us this community. I have met really good men all over the planet (not yet Antarctica, but I'm patient); nifty made our communication possible, and I'm grateful.
Happy Spring, Farm Boys;
Griz
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
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Our drive back to the farm was not the steeplechase it would've been if I'd been driving. The whole day had been rushed until after Marc's interview. We relaxed during our chicken dinners and the conversation that followed, and now I wanted to give Marc the spotlight to fill the rest of the family in on the reorganization of his plans.
I wanted my mom, brother and future (as she always should've been) sister-in-law to have the same question that I had, answered by Marc with what seemed like a wonderful plan moving forward, after all.
"Hey, Boyfriend-----that was gear shift, and you're shifting gears just right. Feeling comfortable with it?"
"I am......or I'm getting there. I'll say this for Grampy's truck: an automatic transmission and air conditioning. For something built in 1957, that must've been fairly uncommon. I wish he and I could've gone out driving in it more before they moved."
"This is one of those instances when it's entirely true to hear someone say, `I know exactly how you feel'. Still wish I could go out for one more ride on Bolt and Stan with Dad. So many things to say, and even more to ask."
"I imagine. Oh----does anyone need anything from town? There's the Town & Country store. Looks like they're still open."
"No, Mom didn't say anything. Heh.....you know what else she didn't say?"
"Not much, if I know Marie. She's not without something to say, as long as it's important, caring or funny."
"She forgot to send me her Billings Costco shopping list."
"Oh, you're right. Well, must not've been much very important on it."
"Marc, it's Costco; EVERYTHING on a Costco list is important, at least to a farm family. And trust me-----we bear that guilt. We don't buy in Lewistown. Maybe if we did, there'd be the kind of stores that would sell us what we want. Maybe if the stores existed in Lewistown, we'd buy from them. It's a chicken-vs-egg scenario, though. Someone would need to go first in that enterprise. I wish---for the sake of our own folks right here---that we bought more locally."
"I've noticed there's no book store here. No household appliances. No men's or women's clothing stores. Sporting goods, primarily hunting. So where do rural guys go to get clothes?"
"On line, I'm afraid to say. Though it's nothing for Tommy and me to round up Rand Jr and as many other guys as we can find for a trip to Great Falls every couple of months. We go to Tractor and Supply there, or other stores like that. Where else can you find Levis, baby chicks, salt blocks, baling twine, gloves, guns and everything else a guy might need?"
"Oh, I get it.....makes sense. `Farm Boys Out On The Town', returning with a truckload of whatever."
"That's right; and generally a barbecue joint on the way in or out of town for lunch or dinner. Split the gas when we refill before driving back to Fergus County. It's probably more about hanging out and being boys together than actually getting something we need. Your and my trip to Billings was entirely different. We went there for furniture and clothes, and we got `em in spades."
"Well, I hope Marie didn't have an absolute-need-at-this-moment thing from Costco."
"Nah. Soon to find out, though."
Marc and I held hands on the way, releasing each other only so he could shift gears. His hands were warm, and mine felt good in them. Marc could hold me so firmly and so tenderly at the same time. There was no mistaking his intent. I was his; to care for, protect, assure, love, and when he rubbed my back and shoulders, to release knots beneath my skin and exfoliate dead cells on top of it.
A touch from Marc was never incomplete. From our first hour together, when he touched me, it was deliberate. Marc never hesitated to claim me as his with either a full hug on the farm or the brush of his hand against mine on Main Street during a Friday Evening Shop & Stroll.
The way his hands could roam from the base of my neck to the base of my spine brought chills and gasps from me. A mere fingertip against any part of me was no different. Marc made love to me with a glance, a touch, just the sound of his voice when he called me `Babe'; and just then, the slight squeeze his hand gave mine when he signaled he needed to let go because he wanted to change gears. I already knew by the sound of the motor what needed to happen; Marc just made it personal.
It was the communication from him, though, that mattered more. And yeah, you want me to say it, so I will: Marc got both my truck's and my motor revvin'. Well, THAT'S over with. Don't blame me for tellin' you the very corny schmaltz you wanted to hear, and I won't blame you for taking so long to get me to say some truly schmaltzy corn about my man, which as you know by now, I'm more than ready to say.
We drove with the windows down. The breeze came from the North through my side and left the truck South through Marc's door. Wind and air that left Japan thirty hours ago, arced up over British Columbia and came down Alberta, passing Havre, Hingham, Big Sandy and Denton on its way to us. It carried all sorts of scents and humidity changes on its trip.
My great-great grandfather used to say that wind in Montana is effective diplomacy that the state department can't replicate; it starts carrying cherry blossom essence from Japan, then picks up sea brine over the Pacific; in Canada, noble firs and forest strawberries and blackberries join the trip, and by the time it lands in Montana, we have clean, pure air that we fill with redneck music and all sorts of cussin'. We send that down to Wyoming, Oklahoma and Texas, one-way. What can I say? We're givers.
Kim and Kristi were at the window of `Common Grounds'. By now, Kim knew many of the people who came through. Whomever she didn't know, Kristi did. It worked well, and those two got along like two peas in a pod. Eva was the mother hen and her brood were Kim, her roommate from Helena, Kristi, and maybe (I hoped) Teigan.
I hoped Eva would also consider the twin boys who seemed interested in working there. That seemed to be where they could be found most often. Maybe the overnight shift. I was personally leery of the young women being there alone. Stepping back, I'm realizing my name is not Eva, and `Common Grounds' is not my business to run. She will, I'm sure, let me know if she needs my advice.
The gravel on the county road to our farm had been slightly moved around by the heavy combines and tractor-trailers during Harvest last week, creating obvious trails---but not yet deep ruts. We'd get it back in place during our own trips. Marc and I were driving east from the highway. Deer ran across in front of us, but no strikes this time. It's a very common tale told that a deer strike will happen at least twice during the time any one person drives in Central Montana, whether highway, county road or a street in town. A parking lot deer strike hadn't happened----yet.
Marc honked and I waved as we turned off the highway, and both K & K waved back. Had it been earlier in the evening, I'd have enjoyed stopping and saying hi, but I wanted to see my Big Guy, my Little Guy and my Horse Guy. Oh, and the humans, too. I was holding hands with Marc, and I could sense by his grip that he was getting excited to be home, where he had nowhere to go after this evening except to bed. Relaxation and sleep were the only items left on the day's busy, hectic, chaotic and, at the end of it, exciting day.
Once off the county road and down the long drive to the barnyard, I was relieved to see my family in the hot tub. We parked next to Aleksy's almost-comically small SUV, a Bronco Sport. We were at the end of the barn where the bathroom was, so we walked in there first to pee and wash our hands.
"Boyfriend, we keep extra swim suits in here. I know they'll want us to join `em in the Jacuzzi. You feel like that?"
"Great idea, actually. I can feel how tense I still am. You have a suit that'll fit me, though?"
"Yeah, you'll fit in one of my brother's suits."
We stepped out of our clothes and into the shower to rinse off, and then got into the swimwear and walked in thongs to the hot tub. Mom greeted us with a wave and a `hey!', and Aleksy and Eva followed with the same. They all made room for us, and I stepped in and got between Mom and Aleksy. Marc was between Mom and Eva. And despite all the larger mammals that we were---except for Eva---there was still room. Dad bought a hot tub that could fit eight comfortably, and that included two reclining seats.
"You boys decided to join us! Good! Did you get enough dinner, though? I can go heat up some moussaka I made earlier....."
"Thanks, Mom; we each had a chicken dinner from Snuffy's. Still full. If I'd known you were making Greek food, I'd have resisted the earlier plan!"
Aleksy was smiling, and had his arm around an also-smiling Eva.
"Iced tea on the table behind you, and extra glasses, too. So, you changed your minds about staying in town?"
I raised an eyebrow at Marc, and he nodded. I poured the tea for both of us. I can drink iced tea around the clock and around the calendar. My grandpa got me hooked on it before I began drinking coffee. Of course, he loaded it with sugar, lemon and mint for me, which he did for himself, as well. His giant, ancient thermos was always full and ready for him to begin his day, and was always empty by the end of it.
Now we all like it, and stock tea and lemonade both in the barn fridge, as well as in the house. If we could grow tea plants and lemon trees in the kitchen garden, I've no doubt those two would be the biggest crops of all. The mint plant, right by the corner of the house, was one planted the same year the house was built. Yeah, I know.....'get on with it'. I will! Geez!
I topped everyone else's glasses off and sat back down on a nice, steady burst of bubbles on my legs and back. Best social investment ever, Dad. Mom laughed and raised her glass in Marc's direction. Aleksy, Eva and I did the same.
"Here's to you, Marc; I'm sorry you're not going to be the superintendent of schools, but I'm not sorry for your reasoning! Well done!"
"Hear, hear!", all around.
Marc smiled and nodded his thanks.
"I hope I don't wake up tomorrow to regret that....."
Aleksy shook his head.
"Nah, you jumped off the train before it crashed, Marc. Both Eva and I heard plenty when I went to `Common Grounds' to pick her up after her shift. I was waiting inside at the counter and refilled the ice and other stuff, and I could hear people in their vehicles talking about it."
"And I heard even more before he got there! Every car that pulled up had something to say! Some were disappointed, and some were just outright upset about Jon Black and Mandy Blinken! Oh, she came through, too. Barely acknowledged me. She was shouting into her phone almost the entire time. Only took a break to order a `Golden Waves'. I'm sorry, Marc; what a miserable interview. I sure wish it had all been different."
"Thanks, Eva. Thank you, too, Aleksy. It wasn't just about me, though; there wasn't a clear path forward for me with the school district. Maybe there will be someday, but right now, I have other priorities. Four of them are in this really incredible Bubble-ator with me. So.....Jozef, you're sitting over there bouncing up and down, and I don't think it's because of the jets of warm water. You want to go ahead?"
"Can I, really?"
"The would-be superintendent recognizes Jozef Pawel Wojtowicz!"
I smiled and laughed. He was obviously a person with much more patience than I had, but no one in the hot tub was surprised to know that. I loved that he was going to let me be the opening act in this comedy that followed that tragedy earlier.
"The shelves at our library and many others will be getting more crowded! Marc is gonna write another book! His agent and publisher want a series!"
Hoots, hollers and raised glasses all around, and Marc turned red again----despite the dazzling smile he shared with us; a smile seen not once only three hours earlier. THIS was the Marc I knew; my Marc. I had no doubt he had his serious, `fuck around and find out' side, and I welcomed every last emotion that he wanted to share with me.
"So, yeah, there's that.....when we were in Billings, my agent Bozco called me. Both he and the publisher want a series built from the third book, and I'm offered a pretty healthy advance to get started."
Mom was shaking her head and laughing.
"So you went into that interview with nothing to lose, at least as far as a salary was concerned."
"True, but: I honestly would've preferred to turn down the publisher and not the school board. At least for now. I believe I'd have gotten around to writing the book eventually, but my vision for the district was something I very much wanted to pursue."
Eva and Aleksy both began asking a question at the same time. They laughed, and my brother just nodded to Eva to continue.
"Have you told your agent yet? I'm guessing you didn't say anything yet, since you just found out you weren't going to be superintendent."
"You're right; I haven't responded yet. We talked about it yesterday, but that was all. I didn't tell him about the interview. Haven't talked with him or the publisher since the last book launched. I will talk with him tomorrow. I think it's more important to have this conversation with everyone here, first. In all the time we've known each other, I've been pursuing the school district job. This is different, and to be entirely honest---and candid---it matters to me what your thoughts are on all this."
Why did Marc say that? Did he have any reason to think we would not be supportive entirely of his decisions? Hmmm..... I wondered if I was failing to express my profound admiration and support for his academic pursuits, and anything else that was in the wind for him. Of course I'd be happy, and I'd have been very surprised if my family----our family----felt any differently. Mom was reassuring, as if she'd read my mind.
"Marc, honestly, you could be working the graveyard shift at the highway weigh station, and everyone here would be celebrating that career move. Hah! I can imagine every trucker going through there getting a history lesson from you, and the CB radio world being filled with rig-rollers saying to each other, `Did you know Spain ceded Guam to the United States in 1898?'"
All of us turned to look at Mom when she said that. Just how....?
"Whaaat? I still read before going to sleep! I just finished your second book, Marc; I didn't know ninety percent of what you covered in that title! So Spain just gave up and handed over an entire island and all the people on it to the United States?"
"They did. Spain had just lost the Spanish-American War, and had barely enough in their treasury to get their warriors and ships home. There are still some Spanish influences there, but we're over one hundred years in rule, and it's almost entirely military in presence there now.
Due to the younger CHamorus leaving for the States in larger numbers, there's some uncomfortable acculturation happening now, and tourism has never recovered after the 9.11 attacks in New York. People are leery of being so close to North Korea, which has all but threatened Guam with mid-range missile attacks."
I sat in the bubbling water listening to Marc, and I got hard, fast. That brain of his compels all of me for all of my attention. Intelligence is sexier to me than anything else. It never meant, and it still doesn't mean, that only long-reaching and long-ranging research and knowledge captivate me; it's just how information is conveyed that can turn my head. And when that information being conveyed comes out of Marc's so-handsome, Gregory-Peck-deep-voiced, floppy-hair-covered head, I am weak. Paco was not weak. He was straining to become part of the conversation.
Later, Paco. Trust me-----you'll get your turn to communicate with Marc.
We talked more about the next steps for Marc. That included, which did not surprise me (but still shocked me) that he'd have to return to Cambridge and Harvard to tidy up some loose ends there. We had talked only briefly about it, and I knew there'd be a trip at some point.
Aleksy, too, discussed returning to Bozeman to get his trappings and do something with his home there. It was so curious to me: my brother and my man, both college professors, both back to where they were born, both having to do something with their condominiums and wrap up their resignations from teaching.
I could not have imagined it was an easy decision for either of them. They teach because they are compelled to do so. Often, it's for love; it's sure not for the paycheck. Bankers do what they do for the paycheck; arguably, no one does it for love. I could be wrong, though; my favorite teacher, Mr Raver, left Education for Banking, and that guy was not one who seemed money-obsessed to me.
All of us in the hot tub were still young enough that our fingertips turned to raisin-like states, and all the iced tea was gone. The hot tub was on the eastern side of the barn, and once the Sun had gone down behind the roof, and although still Summer, the change in temperature was noticeable. We took turns getting out and showering and dressing.
Mom went first into the barn bathroom while my brother and our mates stayed in and talking. Once Mom was out and grabbed the pitcher and glasses to take into the house with her, Aleksy and Eva got out to go in and shower, too. Cleaned and dressed, they waved and walked into the house. Marc and I remained, and were sitting close like noodles in a pot of boiling water.
"Babe, I'm glad we came back here. It was good to talk with them. Now we're all on the same page."
"Yeah.....of History Book Number Four! It felt so good to me, too. You were nice to let me spill your beans, Marc.....I was excited for you. Still am. I'm gonna be excited about this for a long time, I think."
"Thank you, Jozef. This might change things for you and me, though; we were both counting on my own career going in a different direction. This will be the first time I've ever just done research with the intention of publishing. No more being a student."
"I don't even know what other degree there is after PhD for a professor of history; is there something?"
"Well, not precisely. There is post-doctoral research. That's essentially what I'll be doing."
"I have a thousand questions to ask you about this. It's fascinating to me."
"I have a thousand and one to ask; that's the nature of research. But for you----I have a thousand answers to your questions, and a kiss for you for each one of them."
"Boyfriend. I am so happy right now. Happy for you that you dodged a disaster with the school district, and happy that while you're researching, we'll be together in the process. I know not always or even most of the time, but I'll see you while I'm studying and while you're studying, or when I'm out in the field, or just about anything or anywhere. Is this something that is announced? Is there a kind of trade association of history research and publication professionals?"
"Heh.....no. There'll be something probably in the Harvard Press journal, and I imagine history departments in colleges and universities all over will find out, but no one is going to put me on Oprah."
"Heh.....she'd hear your deep voice and see you in that suit, and the next thing we know, ol' Steadman is cryin' the blues about being single again."
"Hardly a blip on the literary radar, that's what I am and will be. I write for other historians and teachers, actually. I do this because History has to be understood. There's no denying Guam exists; but what has happened on that island since humans came to exist on it?"
"That was a serious trip that Mom knew about Guam, and that she's reading your books! Same with Mr MacWorter, although to be honest, I was disappointed he was the only one of the school board to have done some research on YOU."
"Nothing about Marie surprises me anymore.....just more and more delights me. All of you do. Mike MacWorter read the books, but from what Emil told me, Mrs Heusen actually had a full background check done on me. I presume for the other two candidates, as well. That's completely reasonable. Hey, Babe; I need to get out of here before I fall asleep. This is more relaxing than I thought it would be."
"Yeah, of course; I'm ready, too. There's a roomful of furniture we might consider going to. I know just how to get there."
We climbed out, restored the cover to the hot tub, and then made our way to the barn bathroom. I noticed the swimsuits were all in a laundry basket, probably to be washed the following day. We added ours and got beneath the slightly cooler water in the shower. I grabbed the bar of soap and moved it around on Marc's chest. It was one of my favorite things, ever, to love on him that way.
"Marc, when do you think you'll go back east?"
"I need to get online and look at flights, but I think sooner is better than later. It's August, and I know I have a good opportunity to work with a property manager to get my condo leased. Harvard wants to try to make it housing for visiting professors, which is fine with me. Makes me sound like a snob, but I know generally how professors take care of stuff. I doubt anyone would throw a wild party every weekend."
"Do you think it would take you long to do everything you need to do there?"
"A week, max. I'll box up whatever I want and have it shipped to the house in town. Won't be a lot; I wasn't much of an accumulator. I'm not sure what to think about being gone from you for a week.....now THAT will be strange to me. I can already feel the withdrawals....."
"YOU'LL think it's strange! I hope it'll only be a week!"
We passed the soap back and forth some more, and soon we were back to smelling and feeling like we deserved to slide between fresh sheets on a new bed. We got dressed again, just to walk across the barnyard to the house. I stopped and thought of something I wanted to do, and had missed sorely.
"Marc, if you want to go ahead, that's great; but I need to check on Lola Cola."
"Of course; I want to say hi, too."
We went to the south end of the barn. I looked up in the rafters high above, and there was Barn Owl, glowing eyes peering down at us. She was waiting for sundown so she could go out among the field mice and rabbits to find just the right dinner. Before we even got to Lola Cola's stall, she woofed at us. I missed that sound, that greeting; it was only three days, but it seemed like months that we'd seen each other last.
I unfastened the net across the front of the stall and we stepped in. Lola Cola's tail was not staying still, and got even more animated when I leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Lots of licks later, some even for Marc, we sat on the bales of straw and looked at the puppies. Mom wasn't kidding; they'd really grown! Lola Cola nosed my Little Guy, just barely, but sending the clear message that I was more than welcome to love on him. I did just that.
Old Cat jumped up and actually rubbed up against Marc. Well. What do you know about that? Marc's change of job plans got the seal of approval from Old Cat. Either that, or he thought my man might get generous with the duck hearts. He settled down and crouched the way cats do, when they want to rest, but not quite lie down. He kept his eyes on the dogs below him. I loved how devoted he was to their well-being. I wished there was a way to get a full vet examination for O.C., but Lamar made sense with the `leave well enough alone' attitude toward him.
My Little Guy was making more sounds now. He was officially a week old, and was longer than my hand now. I held him up to my nose to feel his soft, short fur, and to smell the delicacy That Is Puppy Smell. He was fine. They were all fine. Between a mama dog, and uncle cat, numerous humans including two veterinarians, those pups got the best start in life probably ever known to all canines of Family Canidae since the Paleocene Epoch, sixty million years ago.
The hand-feeding continued, but we were all so willing in our participation that to stop would appear like we were being useless. We had a way to go until they were weaned. No one was in any hurry. I'm speaking for you, Old Cat. I know you're going to be very bored the moment those pups begin adopting away. Maybe we'll let you keep one. Heh.....
Marc and I stayed with the Barn Family for maybe ten minutes or so. I sat on the straw bale next to Marc, and had my Little Guy nestled between my joined legs, just enjoying his presence. Marc rubbed the back of my neck and rested his head on my shoulder.
"I love you, Jozef."
"I love you, Marc."
We made no moves and enjoyed the evening breeze come over and through the barn, stirring up a bare amount of dust. Bolt and Stan were settling in. I made a silent promise to ride my horse the following day, or at least spend time with him. Apples and carrots for the horses and my Big Guy, too. I promise.
Crickets began their symphony. All was right in my world, my farm. It survived three days without me, and I survived three days without it, but I was growing more anxious all the time. What that confirmed for me: I could not go away to college. Now that I knew distance learning was not only a possibility but a probability? Best of all worlds: an education and the farm life I was born to live, and both with the man I was born to live with.
I could finally return to my normal schedule of greeting the Sun and saying goodnight to it, as well. The Barn Family were all okay. Horses, cat, owl and dogs, coexisting harmoniously; and only slightly interrupted by two humans who said `I love you' to each other.
Marc and I both yawned at the same time, which made us giggle. Lola Cola looked up at us and woofed.
"You need to run around to the side of the barn, Girl?"
"WOOF!" (Translated: "What took you so long to figure that out?!")
We stood and I moved the straw bale slightly so she could walk between the three we had set up as guards from drafts and to provide a protective barrier, as well. O.C., yet again, stepped down and moved up against the puppies. Okay, you win, Old Cat.
I opened the little cooler and took out a duck heart for him, which he accepted graciously. Well, as graciously as an always-hungry, predatory carnivore can be. I'm sure the intention of politeness exists in cats, but the display? Nope.
Mama Dog returned and resumed her position. O.C. just curled up on the opposite sides of the pups, nesting on the straw-strewn barn floor. With the old wired hanging lamp still on at the other end of the barn, both Mom and Uncle had any light necessary to keep watch over the twelve fast-growing pups. I refastened the net across the stall, and before leaving said good night to both Bolt and Stan, as well.
Marc and I walked from the barn to the house, holding hands. It felt nice to have a moment for a public display of affection, though I wasn't sure how public it was; we were alone in the barnyard, save for a couple of bats who came out early to beat the rush, I guessed. The breeze through the barnyard was gentle and warm; a hug all the way from Japan, just for us.
We stopped in the kitchen once back in the house. I locked the door and turned off the ceiling light, leaving on only the light on the ancient---but perfectly-working---white enameled double oven stove, built in 1948. Before going up, I also checked the front door of the house, through which we brought all the bedroom furniture earlier in the day. I wondered what my age would be when that door was opened next. I could count on one hand the number of times, including that day, I walked through it.
As we passed Mom's bedroom on our way to the stairs, I called out a good night to her, and told her the house was secured. She called good night to us.
"Marc, this is fascinating. Saipan was occupied by Spain, Germany, Japan and now the U.S., and all within about one hundred years. It's official: I want to go to all these places."
"I was in the Marianas as part of my research for my Master's degree. I know all sorts of people there who would love to be your tour guides. Let me know when!"
"Well, it won't be tonight; I haven't packed yet, and I still need to harvest the kitchen garden and can all of it, as well. I would sincerely love to see this, though. And Guam. We should talk. You boys headed up?"
"We are. Gonna sleep in that new bed and awake at 4:30. I have a full list of things to get done tomorrow, and almost all of it critter related."
"I hope the new bed gets you off to dreamland quickly and keeps you there perfectly. All that Stickley is perfect in that room. See you boys in the morning."
We said good night to Mom and made our way up the creaking stairs. So many pairs of feet, big and small, were up and down those stairs for decades. I was looking forward to a new era of the same. I actually had my barn bedroom idea still in mind, because I wanted six or eight kids in that house, needing space that includes our current room.
A part of me was romanticizing the book `The Egg and I', with Ma and Pa Kettle's fifteen kids on their farm at Cape Flattery, Washington. While fifteen kids would be a nice number for someone, I did not envision the four of us, plus another egg source, producing and then corralling that many.
I was fully supportive of eight. Four Aleksy and four Jozef. They could have three of the four rooms upstairs, and Marc and I could move to a barn loft apartment of our own. He'd already signed off on it in the `idea' form; I just needed to design it and enlist my brother and my man to help.
At the end of the hall was our sanctuary from the typhoon of a day and all that was carried with it. We walked quietly to it, as no light came from beneath the door to Aleksy's and Eva's room. We got inside, and a motion-sensing nightlight on my desk turned on, casting just enough soft and glowing illumination to navigate all the new furniture. It was all just right, and honestly looked like the furniture had been in the room for one hundred years.
We stopped at the foot of the bed, facing each other. We smiled, standing close and unbuttoning each other's rugby shirts enough so we could get out of them. Marc looked more tired by the minute. I knew we'd have a night or so to adjust to the mattress, but tonight, we were both so tired, we weren't going to be noticing any discomforts.
We got each other naked entirely. Marc surprised me by reaching out to take hold of my dick. I responded in kind. It seemed like a friendly thing to do. Neither of us got hard. We were truly tired. I guess if nothing else, we invented a new way to shake hands.
Staring into each other's eyes for a few moments, Marc pulled back, released Paco and walked to the North side of the bed. I walked to the South. We hadn't discussed sleeping arrangements, but we were going this route, at least for the night. Negotiations, if necessary, could be discussed in future. Right now, we needed to get our clean bodies on clean sheets.
We faced each other on our pillows. Marc reached and caressed the side of my face, running his fingers through my longer hair. He smiled at me.
"Jozef. I am here because we met ten days ago. I interviewed for a job because we met ten days ago. I am a happy man because we met ten days ago. Happier than I have perhaps ever been. These three days with you off the farm were nice, but like you, I am happy to be back. Here, I can be me with you. That is a detail that matters significantly to me. You are my man and my family. And I am happy."
"And that makes me happy. Curl up against me, fore or aft, and let's just drift off happily."
Instead, Marc laid on his back and pulled me against him, my head on his chest. He ran his fingers through my blond hair, lightly massaging my scalp.
"Babe."
"Boyfriend."
I dreamed of Winter, for some reason. The farm was in blizzard conditions. Sebby was getting the heifers up against the windbreak. Bolt and Stan were in the little corral where Sebby normally lived. Marc ran out of the house to get them in the barn. Once he had the barn door open, they took right off from the corral and raced each other into their stalls.
Lola Cola was in her stall. In my dream, the puppies were now all older; and almost fully grown. The thirteen of them took up a lot of room, but they were still a family that wanted to be together. Aleksy came running into the barn from the house, saying he was driving to get Eva at her shack. I told him we were in blizzard conditions, and there's no visibility on the county road or the highway. I said that Eva would be better off staying there until the storm passes. Aleksy was worried about her, but they calmed down and she agreed to stay there for awhile.
It was a strange dream. Mom wasn't in it. Nor was Tom. I dream about my boy often; we're just that tight. It was a dream I was happy to awaken from, though. I'm not a fan of chaos that I can't resolve. Even without my watch on my wrist, I awoke at 4:15. PERFECT! Right back on track, and I'm ready to go!
Once I'd cleaned up in the bathroom, I got downstairs. Mom wasn't up yet, so I started the coffee for her. Next I went to check on the chickens. Feeding, watering and gathering done, I endured Cock-A-Doodle's frustration that I was awake without him being my clarion first. He chased after me a little, but all I had to do was turn around and chase him back. Yeah, I'm not scared of you, ya feathery Tyrannosaurus Rex. Keep fuckin' with me, and you'll be the best Chicken Fricassee I'll ever make. THEN you'll know who's boss, woncha?
I took the eggs in the house and left them in the sink for Mom to wash. The coffee was done, so I poured myself some in a thermos mug to take out to the barn with me. I had the entire barnyard to human myself. The yard light was bright under the still-black sky. I looked up and saw moths circling the light, hypnotized by the brightness. The light itself emitted a kind of whine as it escorted me to the barn. I went in through the south door, where the animals were.
I led Bolt and Stan out of their stalls and into the little corral. Sebby was in the little field with the heifers. With the horses out of their stalls, I mucked them clean and laid new straw in for them, and also got new hay in their mangers. Cleaning and filling their water troughs always took the longest, but I was insistent on animals have plenty of clean, fresh water. In their oat pans, I cut up an apple and a carrot each. I'd leave them in the corral awhile longer so I could clean the Berneezers stall. It meant putting them temporarily in Bolt's stall; hence the reason the horses were in the fresh, outdoor air.
While I was mucking out Lola Cola's stall, Mark walked into the barn.
"Ah.....so THIS is what you left me for."
"I've been missing my morning chores for three days. Yeah, it was nice to sleep in, but it's nicer to no longer sleep in. Speaking of sleep, how'd you do? Was the mattress comfortable for more than a thirty minutes nap?"
"I guess I slept comfortably; I fell off so quickly, I didn't really notice how I slept. Don't remember waking up at all during the night, so I guess it was a good sleep. That mattress.....perfect, I think. How about you, Babe?"
"I woke up a few times. I think I was just excited to be back home. You were snuggled up against me, and I would snuggle up against you. For two guys who've only ever slept alone, I'd say we're doing okay with each other while sleeping."
"Agreed. Gonna have to warn you, though....."
"Warn me, Boyfriend?"
"I already have a tube of lube in the nightstand on my side of the bed. I intend to use it when we aren't so tired getting in for the evening."
"Yeah, well, I'm also a well-prepared boy scout; I have lube on my side, too. So you warned me, and now I'm gonna warn you....."
"Of what?"
"We will nap throughout the day if necessary, because when we get back in that bed this evening, the lube will be deployed and the Gay Kama Sutra EMployed. I'm gonna want you inside me, Mister Post-Doc with the Post Cock."
"I think that's highly reasonable. Highly desirous, too. Highly high on my list of high priorities."
We laughed, and Marc climbed the ladder to the loft for new straw to replace the bales that were in front of Lola Cola in her stall, which I used in Bolt's and Stan's. Working together, we had the tasks done in the barn. Now I needed to do the same for Sebby's corral, so I took the horses `home'. In another half hour, the morning chores were done.
Mom would milk the Guernsey herself later, once the Sun was up. Cows really don't like being milked when they want to be sleeping, instead. I guess I could understand that. Even if it was Marc doing it, I don't know I'd want the same kind of motions being made on my dick while I'm trying to sleep. And certainly not if an entire bucket of my `milk' was the result. I don't want to end up in the hospital, after all.
How do you receive visitors in that.....situation? Does someone bring flowers with a ribbon that reads, `Sorry You're Suffering From The Best Or Worst Handjob Of All Time'? What do friends and family say to you? Or you to the insurance company when they try to deny the claim? I'd prefer not to find out, thanks.
The Sun was taking its own sweet time to join the day. I was anxious to take Bolt or the four-wheeler out along with the drone, and see how the fields looked after Harvest. Yeah, it got done, but yeah, I was supposed to be here for it. Fuck. Next year. Dad, I'm sorry. I believe you'd have told me to go to Billings, just like Mom did; but I also believe you'd have been just a wee bit happier if I'd stayed. A crop pays the bills; a suit and furniture bring bills.
On a farm, there is no `Monday Morning Quarterbacking'. We move forward and hope what we learned will stick with us for the next time that Responsibility and Opportunity face off on their own gridiron. Perhaps I gleaned a little more during the time spent with Marc than I would glean the remaining grain from the fields. Perhaps I needed to listen to myself and move forward.
I turned to Marc and took his hand. I led him to a slight bluff, man-made when my great-great grandfather excavated a half acre of land not far from the house or barn to create a shallow, seven feet deep pond. The land dredged up was piled at the edge of what would be the little pond, and that became the bluff. We all would climb to the top of its whoppin' twenty five feet thrust toward the sky.
Over time, the freshly-turned and fertile soil caught all kinds of seeds, and we sat on grains, grasses and all other kinds of ground cover that grew on it. Whenever the subject of Disneyland came up, Dad would say, `You have your own private mountain, and you'd rather go to some crowded hell with screaming babies that centers on a vermin?'
We never went to Disneyland back then, but we often went to our own mountain. Many times, Mom would later tell me, each of us boys would go there to be alone and think. I also went there to fly my kite; that added height brought all sorts of new enhancements to aerodynamics. No screaming babies on my mountain; just me and my farm for as far as I could see.
Marc and I reached the top. So still, that morning. No breeze, the sound of crickets growing quieter, and the sound of my heart growing louder as it nearly beat out of my chest with love for my land and my man. `THIS is what I have; this is what I am', I thought.
I turned to Marc and reached my hands for his hips, pulling him gently toward my own. He smiled at me, the faint glow of the yard light separating my man from the darkness that surrounded us. Marc giggled.
"You weren't kidding; you really were excited to get back here and back to work. I get it."
"This place is heaven. It has its moments of being far less, but overall and more and more, it's my utopia. I'm happy to go anywhere; even Billings----if you come with me----but I have to come back here."
"I am realizing that more and more."
"So am I, Marc. Maybe it's my age; maybe I'm still so young and naive that each new day is an opportunity for me to be surprised and delighted. Or shocked and disappointed. There are still so many new things presented to me, and so many ways for me to grow as a result. Big example: two Sundays ago, right about this same time. `Surprise and Delight' both, and I'm growing as a result."
Marc placed his forehead against mine. We stood like that, no more conversation for the moment; just a farm boy and his man, standing on his mountain, surveying the break of sunrise directly ahead of us. The fields were barren. They had done their work for the season. We would soon work the land again and prepare it for the next rotation.
For now, I saw what my dad saw the previous year this same time. I wasn't the only farm boy to climb up on his mountain and see his Responsibility and Opportunity. I would not be the last, either. My own son would climb up and feel the effects of gravity; not just to keep us on the Earth, but planted roots-deep within it. I hoped then, long before I knew my son, that he would stand there with someone he loves and who loves him, and feel yet another generation of happiness on an early morning at our own rural Disneyland.
Just so you know: my daughter would go up there with me, too. It's not just all about having farm boys running around on this land. Girls are welcome, too. A half acre of soil was moved to create a pond and a mountain for farm kids of all flavors and stripes. All of mine, all of my brother's kids, would at the very least understand why they were born: to be loved like no other kids, ever; and to grow up to know care and concern for their family, their community and people the world over who would eat the grains we grew there, just for them.