It is Thanksgiving weekend and his first time in Kentucky. My dad, the good ol' country boy that he is, is determined to show this 'Yankee' the way Southerners live! The way we work the land! He suits up my then-boyfriend in a flannel jacket and brand new work boots issued by his company. Andy looks at me like, "Please don't make me do this."
"Have a good time, fellas!" I reply, sing-song and devilish.
It is a cold holiday weekend and I am so glad to have evaded hauling wood this year. Sending a fill-in, I curl up on the couch with my mom and talk about this relationship. She is a good listener. I desperately want her to compare my experiences with the ones she had at my age, but she never opens up. Years later, I realize that she never will.
This relationship is doomed, I think. He lives 15 hours away and we are both poor and I don't think he can be trusted. He is very funny. He is very sweet. He writes me poetry. He does not know God. He sings like an angel and plays the piano for me... and I think for many other women. But he writes me beautiful poetry.
My mom asks me how he knows circus tricks. (She and my dad had walked into the room right as he asked me if he could do a handstand on my back.) I tell her of the 'Tumbling' class he took at college. This does not impress her... or me... but it is a shocking new addition to a traditional rural Thanksgiving. My boss at work later tells me that this should have been a big sign.
After Thanksgiving, my brother walks me to my car and tells me that he overheard my mom and dad say that they liked Andy, but couldn't believe that I was dating an effeminate man. So they had noticed. I had not even told them of his tendency to experiment with make-up and lingerie. Hmmmm....
I'm thinking all these things in front of the fireplace, curled up beside my mom who I imagine is thinking of holidays with boyfriends when she was 21. I'm thinking all these things when my dad comes in the back door laughing and I see Andy red-faced and worked. "He broke the ax on his first swing!" my dad roars! A good ol' slap on the back and Andy takes the ribbing well... but he never comes back to our farm.
He is happily married now... but not to me.
And I imagine they have an electric or gas fireplace.
1 comment:
What a hoot!! You can't help but laugh when thinking of him.
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