The Apple Shed

Maggie's Farm

He had arrived at my apartment at five o'clock sharp, much to my chagrin no less: I was in the midst of a dream about him, whereby we had gotten together and even moved onto the farm together. I couldn't picture myself as a farm girl, though: I loved the city too much and I knew the future remained uncertain no matter what. But I knew what I wanted out of life; even if my life in the city should ever take off, I vowed to always remain appreciative of nature.

Right before school had started, I had told my parents about Vincent and I was eager to travel up to Chico to go and see him at his farm, but I also had my doubts.

"We'll be home before class starts," I told my mom over the phone. "Well, I'll be home, anyway."

"Call us when you get there, okay, sweetie?"

"Of course!"

I tried to picture what a big ranch like that up in NorCal looked like, and yet it was beyond me until I caught the sound of his truck horn outside of the complex.

I hurried downstairs as fast as I could, and before anyone in the building said anything to either of us, as well.

"Hey, girlie," Vincent greeted me from the rolled-down passenger window: though it would be another hour or so before the sun rose over the valley before us, he sported these sunglasses with bright red lenses. He smelled fresh and clean, as if he had just taken a shower somewhere, even though I had no idea as to how he would take a shower there in the Los Angeles Valley: nevertheless, I was still greeted by the soft musky cologne that wafted off the side of his neck.

"You ought to call next time," I told him with a bit of scorn and a rub of my eyes. "I literally just woke up!"

"Well, get a move on and pack your things—I'm sure you know that traffic is like this time of day down here. I'll be waiting right here for ya."

I had already packed a bit the night before, and it was only going to be for a couple of days, so, really, all I needed to do was run upstairs for my travel bag, my sunglasses, and my purse as well as a swipe of the hairbrush through my hair, and then I returned down to Vincent there at the curb: that smile never left his face, either. Since the bed of his truck was filled to the brim with all manner of things and protected with a big black tarp tied down to the edges, I tucked my things into the backseat of the cab and then I climbed into the passenger seat. Besides, there was no way I was going to put my travel bag back there, especially since we were about to head up the Interstate Five freeway followed by a mountain pass right outside of Chico. It was going to be a long ride up the spine of California, but I knew we could do it over the span of a day, however.

"You move pretty quickly," he remarked as I put on my sunglasses and gave my hair a toss back with the flick of my head.

"Don't let my gut fool you," I told him. "I may be chubby and round but I'm as strong as I've ever been, though."

He showed me his tongue, and then he shifted out of park. We rolled forth and all the while, we followed the signs to the Hollywood Freeway, which in turn would take us to the Five. And then I remembered that he said he was going to make a stop in the Bay Area.

"Nah, I already did that," he told me once I brought it up to him. "I figured this time around; it'd be best if I hit the Bay first and then made my way down to the City of Angels. Before then, I would stop there last."

"It's like you knew we would cross paths," I said as I rested my fingertips on the inside of the handlebar over my head.

"Really funny how that worked out," he muttered, and his voice trailed off for a second. I peered ahead to the freeway before us: we passed the hillsides which led to the snow-capped mountains which in turn beheld the San Andreas Fault; the Hollywood sign disappeared in the golden sunrise in the side-view mirror, and I knew that it was only the beginning. I adjusted the frames of my sunglasses, and I gave my hair another light toss back, and I nodded my head along to the steady sway of the truck on the freeway.