falling in love... with Farm Boy

Chapter 1: How We Got Here

George’s story is easier then mine. Quite simply, he was born here. His parents met one day when they were in their early twenties while hanging out with some friends one night. It was the basic fairy tale ending from there. They fell in love and soon spent every moment they could together.

Unlike the average fairytale, they weren’t rich or from rich families. They settled down in a small town in Carolina where everyone knows everyone else. You call everyone by their first name and see them every Sunday morning at church.

They started the only business that George’s father ever knew, farming. Soon after they wed, George was born. A few years later his little sister, Ginger, was born. They were both brought up in this small town, raised on a farm, and went to church.

My story is different. My parents met, or at least they saw each other, at a club in New York. Both were drunk and there to have a good time. That is exactly what they did, had a good time. Then they went their separate ways.

My father, of which I was always told was named Greg but is actually named Bob, was only there for a few days and after that one night never saw my mom again. He actually ended up in his hometown where he was very close friends with George’s parents. Mom never told him about me.

My mom stayed in New York. She works at a strip club at night and is a waitress at a diner about 3 blocks away from the apartment. Most days she’s so busy at work that I didn’t even see her. I guess it was better off that way. It didn’t matter if I missed curfew, which happened quite often, if I wanted to party, there was no one to check in with, and going to school wasn’t exactly top priority for a sixteen year old girl.

So how did we meet? It’s strange. A simple farmer from Carolina and a wild girl from New York meet with a simple twist and fate.

It was late spring. My mom was sick, I knew she was. She never talked about it so neither did I. I always figured it was something she was taking care of and didn’t want to worry her teenage daughter over. Then one morning I was sneaking up the fire escape. As soon as I jumped in through the window a flash light was shined on my face.

The police took me in and told me about my mother. Apparently she had high blood pressure but couldn’t afford the medication all the time. She let it get so out of hand she had a stroke and didn’t survive.

The police were unable to find any relatives of mine that would accept me. Mom was basically disowned when she was younger when she went to follow her dreams of being a singer. The only thing she found was a shoe box of old memories from before I was born. One of the things in there was a letter to my father that had never been sent. It explained everything about her being pregnant and wanting to move out there so they could try to make things work, or at least so he could see me and help take care of me.

The police found that the address on the envelope was the address of where my father was still living. They called him up and the next day I ended up on a plane headed to Carolina.

My father picked my up at the airport wearing a white tank top and blue jeans holding a sign that said Delilah on it (spelt wrong, I must point out) and a beer in the other hand. The airport was small, really small, and the house was pretty far away. At least a 45 minute drive. The entire way we were listening to some hillbillies singing ridiculous songs.

The town was worse then I thought it would be. Everyone waved and tried to get a peek of the bastard child in the passenger seat. Most houses, but thankfully not his, were lined with picket fences. There were absolutely no malls, clubs, or any place I saw where people could just hang out. Only a country store, a bar, a church, a school, a vegetable stand, and a lake. Welcome to the suburban way of living.

The house was small and dirty. You could tell there was a hurry to get things together. The dishes were dirty but piled neatly in the sink, laundry was thrown in a pile in front of the washer, and there were remnants of dirt from when he quickly swiped a broom over the floor.

His tour was nothing close to spectacular. He mumbled as we passed through the doorways in the cramped house, this is the bathroom (not even stopping to look in, just pointing at the open door), this is the kitchen, and so on. We ended in the back of the house at my room. There was nothing in it, not even a bed.

First thoughts: This is going to be hell.

“Sorry there ain’t much. I didn realize no one was comin ova. Rich’ll be ova in ‘bout an hour or so wit some ol’ furniture ‘e could spare.”

This was the first full sentence he had spoken and when I first realized I wouldn’t only have to struggle to hear him, but also to understand him.

He left me alone to unpack my stuff. First the radio so I could give these hillbillies a taste of real music. I blasted my mix CD’s and immediately my dad was back in the room to tell me ‘turn dat rackit down’. After wiping the closet down I put away my clothes and waited for my furniture to arrive.

It didn’t take long for Rich to show up. It certainly wasn’t the hour that my father had let me believe it would be. There was a knock on the door and then a lot of loud talking and a dog barking.

“Wow Bob. I ain’t seen your house this clean… ever.” they laughed.

I opened my door and the overexcited dog ran at me with his paws scratching along the floor at the last minute. He must have underestimated his stopping time because he was still dragging along his paws as he slid into my knees and knocked me backward.

“Ranger!” I heard someone yell as I struggled to figure out exactly what had just happened.

That’s when George and I first met. It was brief and I honestly thought I wouldn’t want to be friends with him. I took his very dirty hand and he helped me up.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” he said and I realized that I’d have to struggle to understand everyone in this damn town.

“It’s no problem,” I muttered barely even looking at him, “Bob, I’m gonna go look around town, okay?”

“Kay lilah” he said as I walked by.

Walking around was no fun. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, knew exactly who I was. Most of them waved and whispered to whoever was walking with them, a few of them honked, and exactly three of them knew me by the name of Lilah.

One of the people who knew my name came right up to me.

“Hey Lilah, I’m Kyle.” he said as he scratched the back of his head and avoided my eyes.

“Hey.” I replied trying to walk by.

“Wait, um, we was wonderin’ if maybe you’d wanna hang out at the barn tonight. Most’ve the folks our age ‘round here go there just ‘bout every night.”

Any social interaction that didn’t include my dad or a television seemed like a good idea.

“Sure.”

“Kay, see ya there.” he mumbled and ran off.

‘Where the hell is the barn?’ I thought to myself as I kept walkin. After a few more minutes I decided it would be best to turn around and hope that I wasn’t lost. Of course it didn’t matter if I got lost because everyone in town knew where I lived and how could anyone get lost in a town with a five mile diameter?

When I got home Rich was still there with George. They had finished unloading and all of them were just sitting at the table talking.

“Hey sweetheart,” he had absolutely no right to be calling me sweetheart, “‘ow was your walk?”

“It was okay. I got invited to some barn tonight.” I said and they all started laughing. I didn’t get the joke and no one bothered to fill me in.

“I’m goin’ down’ere tonight too. You know where it is?” asked George.

“No, he didn’t give me any sort of directions.”

“I’ll come pick you up an show you where it is.” he said and the background filled with my dad and Rich ooing simultaneously.

“Shut up.” George mumbled.

“Yep, we better get goin’” Rich stood up.

“A’right. Thanks for the stuff. See ya ‘round.”

“See ya.”

“Bye Delilah.” George said as he tipped his cap.

“Miss. Lilah.” Rich said too before leaving.

My room was now fully furnished. There was a small bed by the window, a full lengthed mirror hanging from the wall, a desk, and a night stand. All were worn down to a matching dull brown color. There were still no curtains and no blanket.

“Lilah, comeet. I gotta talk to you.” my dad yelled from the kitchen.

On the table were two sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly, and some greasy chips that I soon found were stale. As I tried to wince my way through the food my dad started talkin.

“Ya know I ain’t ever had to support no one but me.” he started and looked up at me. I looked back. “What I’m tryin to say is that I ain’t got that much money and my job don’t pay all that much either. I’m gonna need you to be getting a job to help pay for the extra groceries and acourse anything extra that you want.”

“Wait a minute! Mom never needed any extra help! Why can’t you just get another job. Teenagers aren’t supposed to be working.” I yelled out of habit before I could stop myself.

“Well I’m not you mother!” he yelled back slamming his fist on the table. “Rich’ll give you a job on the farm if you’ll take it. There ain’t much for jobs round here so I suggest you do.” and with that he left.

We didn’t talk for the rest of the night. At seven o’ clock George picked me up in an old beat up Chevy truck. Immediately I felt over dressed. He had on exactly what he had been wearing earlier that day, dirty blue jeans and a plaid t-shirt. I, on the other hand, had tried on three different outfits thinking that we were going to some club outside of town. I decided it would be best to go with the classic little black dress and some lip gloss.

Of course George was a complete gentleman, nothing like my father. He held the door for me and got my name right every time he said it. I was never referred to as Lilah.

The barn was on the far side of town. It was actually a barn that had been abandoned and then someone took it over and made it into a hang out for the kids. Inside there were more people then I thought even existed in the small town. Turns out a lot of them were from small neighboring towns. There was that hillbilly music again, but everyone was dancing to it and liking it. I was quick to see that I was overdressed, guys similarly dressed to George in t-shirts and dirty jeans and girls in jean shorts and tank tops.

“Come’n” George pulled me into the crowd, “This is Kyle.”

“Ya, he invited me here” I yelled.

“Wanna dance?” George asked.

Looking around I saw that dancing here wasn’t all that different from in New York, just not as fast or sluty. “Sure.”

Soon after we started dancing another boy cut in. I didn’t think much of it, but I could see that George didn’t like it. He frowned and moved to the bar (which didn’t serve anything alcoholic). At the end of the song the boy tried to start a conversation but I left him there, George looked too sad to just leave sulking at the bar. After all, he had brought me there.

“Hey,” I said sitting down, “Wanna dance? No cut ins this time, I promise.”

All he did was smile and take my hand. The next song had already begun and it was a slow song. He grabbed my waist and I grabbed his neck and this time no one tried to cut in.

Later that night George was bringing me home.

“So, do you think you’re gonna work at my dad’s farm? I’d probly be the one to show you how to do most’ve the things dad would have you doing.”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I don’t think I’d be all that great at farming. I think I’ll look around the town tomorrow and get some applications.” I replied and George chuckled. “What’s that for?”

“Well, it’s a small town. Most of the people workin anywheres been workin there for years. There ain’t many places hirin.”

“Well I can try.”

“Okay. Well, you’re on my way to school. You wanna ride?”

“Yeah.”

The next day George picked me up at seven in the morning. Apparently George is a morning person. I was moving slower than a snail with no star bucks for miles and George was active enough to run a marathon.

“Mornin’ Delilah.” a gleeful George said as I answered the door.

“Meh.” I said grabbing my stuff and following George to the car.

“Kay, well school is a ten minute drive and it starts at seven thirty. If we get your schedule when we get there I’ll show you ‘round ‘fore the bell rings.”

“Ya, kay.” I said still half asleep.

I know that he said more during the car ride but I didn’t listen to most of it. Even when we got to school, most everything he said went in one ear and out the other.

I remembered enough to be able to find my classes on my own and to know that I shared a locker on the first floor with George.

School was torture, like any school would be. First Algebra, then Chemistry, then English with George, lunch with Kyle and George, free period, and finish with sociology. Coming in when the school year was almost over just made it that much worse. Everyone was busy and knew exactly what to do. There were presentations, notes, notebook, and homework of which I didn’t have.

The only good part was the ending. George and I looked all around town, which didn’t take long, to find applications. The only problem was, my dad was right. There were no places hiring, except a hardware store just outside town but I didn’t have the experience to work there.

“So the farm it is?” George asked on the way home.

“Guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Don’t worry, its not that bad once you get used to the smell.” he laughed.

“Oh great.”

So, that’s the basic story. Not much, but definitely strange. I started working on the farm that weekend.