A Starry Night

Exhausted, I flopped onto the couch. Work had been horrible and it had taken its toll on me. I had come straight home, taken a shower, and put on my pajamas. I was ready for a two-day exodus from everything and everyone. "Ah, here's to Friday," I said to myself as I twisted the top off my beer. The frothy, amber colored liquid tasted bitter as I downed my first gulp, but it was good and cold. Tempers ran as hot as the late July temperatures outside. No matter, I had videos, beer, and plans to spend the weekend locked away in my deliciously cool air-conditioned fortress.

By the time I had finished my second beer, the evening news anchor was yammering on in a monotone voice. "Really, I had no idea it was hot outside," I sarcastically replied to the weatherman as I turned off the TV. The house was quiet. I could hear the whispering hum and occasional clang from my central air unit as it tried to keep up with my demands. I stretched out on the couch, relaxed from the beer. I played with the drawstring to my pajama shorts, pulling it tight so that it cut into my belly, and then releasing it. I was roused from my Friday night entertainment by a loud banging at my door.

I thought to myself, "Don't answer it, they'll go away." The banging was a little more insistent this time, evidence that who ever it was wasn't going anywhere. I ambled toward the door muttering obscenities. Turning the maze of locks and dead bolts, I greeted my guest. He leaned against the doorframe, sweating in the heat, his ball cap pulled low over his eyes. He was wearing a faded blue sleeveless tee shirt and a pair of frayed cut off jeans; his toes peeked out of a pair of flip-flops. I stood in the doorway looking at him, Don was my friend and as rude as it would be of me, I was tempted to tell him to go away. I needed a break from the world and everyone in it, at least for tonight. I stepped back from the door, letting him in.

"What are you doing in your pajamas at 6:30 in the evening?" He asked, after giving me the once over. I stood in the middle of my living room glaring as I watched him flop onto my couch. "Have a bad day at work?" he asked trying to make conversation. I nodded my head "yes" and made my way to the fridge to retrieve a beer for him, and one for myself. As I returned to the living room, beer in hand, he asked, "Wanna talk about it?" I shook my head in a fervent "no". "Ok," he said dejectedly, taking the beers from my hands he twisted off the caps and handed mine back. I think he was starting to get the hint that I wanted to be alone and wouldn't be very good company tonight.

I listened to him ramble on, making lame attempts to get me into a conversation. I refused to give in. I sat on the couch, listening. I cared for Don and he was a good friend, but in my mind I envisioned myself duct taping his mouth shut and tossing him out the door. Thoughts of the witch from the Wizard of Oz entered my mind "I'm melting, I'm melting," she cried after Dorothy threw the bucket of water on her. That would happen to him if I threw him out. He would go out into the heat and melt into a puddle on my front porch, "What a world, what a world" he would cry as the oppressive heat turned his innards to goo.

"C'mon" he said grabbing my arm gently, "You need to get out of this house, and we're going road farming." Road farming! I didn't want to go road farming; I wanted to be left alone! I thought of the prospect, driving down dusty gravel roads out in the middle of nowhere in this heat just to park and drink beer. "Ugh" I thought to myself. Mosquitoes loved me more than any man ever could. I imagined myself lying in the bed of his pick up a dried pile of bone and papery brown flesh, exsanguinated by their legions.

Scowling, I declined his offer. He looked me in the eye, jingling his keys in my face. I could tell by the set of his jaw, I wasn't getting out of this. "I won't drink," he said. "I've got ice tea in the cooler. I'll grab your beer while you're changing." He leapt from the couch heading for the fridge.

I flung open the door to my closet, throwing on my finest road farming apparel, cut offs and a spaghetti strap tee shirt. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror dragging a brush through my hair and binding it with a band into a massive ponytail. I applied an extra layer of deodorant, which I knew was fruitless, in this heat, degree only applied to the temperature.

I heard his truck roar to life. Hurriedly, I slid my feet in my sandals, and locked the door to my air-conditioned palace. He stomped on the gas, gunning the engine. Grinning, he looked at me from behind dark sunglasses. I trotted to the truck and climbed into the passenger side. With a spray of dust and a shower of gravel, we were off.

The tiny town was deserted, the hot, dry breeze rose tiny tornadoes of dust and debris. The heat had driven the usual downtown life indoors into the solace of air conditioning. With a left turn, we headed out of the thriving metropolis. The tires of the truck tap-danced along the pavement. In the distance, mirages floated along the highway, created by the intense heat.

A right turn, then a left onto a gravel road, the truck bounced and shimmied, kicking up dust storms in the rearview mirror. I leaned into my seat, the backs of my legs sweating, forming sticky pools on the vinyl seat.

The corn fields stretched for miles, their stalks covered in a brown film of dust. Their leaves wilted by the sun, hanging lazily down. He turned off the gravel road and onto a dirt path; the truck weaved and leapt along the craters in the path. A sudden jerk raised me out of my seat causing me to bump my head on the top of the cab. He glanced at me, grinning as he spurred the truck on. I shot him a disdainful look wondering to myself, "what was I doing here?"

Finally, he stopped in a clearing, shifting the truck into park and turning the key, the engine ticked and heaved in response. He got out of the truck, humming to himself as he jumped into the bed, spreading out a blanket. Dejectedly, I sighed and pushed open my door, lowering myself onto the ground. He watched as I waked around the truck, carefully picking my way through the stalks of corn avoiding their sharp, biting, leaves.

He offered me his hand saying "C'mon." I took his offer allowing him to help me up. He twisted the top off a beer bottle, handing it to me. Gratefully, I took it from him holding it up to my forehead. The bottle was cold, already sweating against the heat, which was laying on me like damp, woolen, blanket.

Together we sat, watching the last visages of sunlight disappear in shades of purple, crimson, and blue. The waves of heat produced a haze, which hung low over the fields. In the distance, a dog barked, the bullfrogs and crickets began to sing a welcome song to the night. I leaned against a spare tire that he had thrown into the bed. He reclined against his tool chest, a necessary adornment to any fine red neck vehicle.

We didn't speak, each of us lost in our own thoughts. It reminded me of a prime time cartoon I had seen once, chuckling to myself, I said it "Yup." I held up my beer waiting for a toast. He clinked his plastic ice tea glass against the bottle, replying "Yup". We giggled at our wit.

We watched the sun say its final goodbye and saw the first of the night stars peeking out from beneath the hazy curtain. The beer was cold and having its desired effect. I started to relax, the troubles of the day melted away in the heat. A cool evening breeze rustled through the stalks of corn, I breathed it in. The musty scent of the fields combined with the pungent perfume of sweat, beer, gasoline, and freshly cut hay. This was summer in the country.

The cool night breeze lifted the haze; I stretched out on the blanket, burying my feet in its cool spots. I stared up into the night sky, marveling at the stars, which had come out of hiding and glittered above us like diamonds. An owl fluttered across the sky, crying a lonely cry. "Look," he said pointing up, "A planet." I followed his fingertip to a bright yellow-orange point of light. "And there, " he whispered, his finger tracing a shape in the dark, "Orion," he said. I shook my head; I didn't see Orion. He pulled me closer, raising my head and pointing my chin upward, "See." I looked up; identifying the three points of light that were his belt, fall was close at hand.

I was more aware of something else, his closeness to me. He had been my friend for years and I had never seen him in this way before. We were always there for each other, leaning on one anther's shoulder. We were together now, close and alone in the night. I slid away from him, feeling a warm flush against my cheeks. I made my way down out of the bed of the truck, excusing myself. One bad thing about road farming, no ladies room, I picked a spot a suitable distance away from the truck, carefully lowered my shorts making sure they were out of the way, and relieved myself. Luckily, I had some Kleenex in my pocket. I thought to myself about what I had perceived between us. "Sinner," I muttered, blaming my thoughts on the beer.

I returned to the truck and hefted myself up onto the tailgate. He slid down, sitting beside me. The closeness was unbearable, his shoulder rubbed against mine, thigh against thigh. He was wearing spicy, musky, scented cologne that I had gotten him for Christmas, I inhaled deeply. I was pulled away from my thoughts by a hand waving in front of my face. "Hello, want to join the rest of us on Earth?" he asked grinning. His smile was one of his best features, perfectly straight, white, teeth hidden behind a dark mustache.

He leaned into me almost knocking me from my perch. I rocked back into him, trying to throw him; he didn't even budge. The battle was on. We rocked, ramming into each other, trying to see who would claim the title of "lord of the tailgate". Finally after coming to a stalemate, I gave in, proclaiming him "Master of the Chevrolet". We laughed and giggled. As I relaxed, with one massive push, he threw me from my seat. Landing on my pride, I glared up at him. "Victory is mine!" he shouted pounding his fists against his chest. He offered me a hand stating, "You may be my serving winch." I planted my feet firmly and took his hand, puling with all my might, I tried to make him fall, but he failed to yield, raising me up onto the tailgate with one hand. "Sit down winch," he said with a laugh.

Without giving it a second thought, I gave him a bear hug. The night had become refreshingly cool and fragrant. I was having a good time and I was grateful that he had drug me away from my solitude. He reached back into the cooler, retrieving another beer.

All of a sudden, I was transformed back to simpler times, young again. I wasn't pushing forty; I wasn't a responsible taxpaying citizen. I was road farming, like I had done on so many lazy summer nights in my youth. I began to sing a song by Don McLain as I stretched out on the blanket. "Took my Chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry" I crooned. He joined in, stretching out beside me, "Those good ole boys were drinking whisky and rye." In unison we howled out, "This will be the day that I die." I giggled, heady from the drink as he playfully tugged on my ponytail, curling it up in his fingers.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling me closer. His lips were mere inches from mine; before I could make a handy excuse to escape, they were touching. It was sweet and innocent, little more than a peck. He stared down at me, I up at him, both of us wondering what to do or say next. He wrapped an arm around me cradling my head in its crook, the other arm, he draped casually around my waist. I relaxed into him, fiddling with the neckline of his tee shirt. My mind screamed, "Run". My heart whispered, "Stay."

A rustling in the stalks of corn roused me out of my private conflict. He rose up, holding a finger against my lips. He pulled me up into a sitting position and pointed to an object ahead. There stood a large buck, his ears perked at full alert. He was a magnificent creature with a full rack of antlers, his nose up in the air. Catching our scent he leapt into the shelter of the corn. "Wow," I whispered. He nodded in reply.

He lowered me down into the bed of the truck, gently pressing on me with his weight. Kissing me deeply, his tongue searching out mine. This wasn't the kiss of a friend, this wasn't an inexperienced high school boy road-farming kiss; this was the kiss of a man driven by want and desire. The kiss he received was that of a woman, burning with the heat of flames from the same fire. "Wow," he whispered tenderly in my ear.

We cuddled against each other underneath a blanket of stars. Both of us warmed, not by the heat that surrounded us, but by the heat between us. Drowsily, I slipped into a world of dreams filled with possibilities, cradled in his arms.