Peaches

The First Time

"I need all of y'all to work real hard today." Pa said, shoving boxes of fruit and greens into the back of a truck. "The big farmer's market is gonna be happening real soon, and we're gonna be needing that money." Before he wished us all well, he mussed Bobby's hair and the climbed into the back of the truck with all the goods. We watched the vehicle drive away until it became a speck on the horizon.

Maxine and Bobby took off immediately, favoring the easier work. They knew they'd have to get to the garden first if they wanted to avoid all the stress of actually exerting themselves. Jean would definitely not mind slacking off on a day like today, so she didn't blame them. Due to all the sweat, her dress was sticking to her skin, which only generated more uncomfortable moisture. Even Mary looked a mess, her usually perfect hair sticking to her forehead. Alas, Clementine looked the same as usual; her hair clumpy and her clothes worse. Still, she did see Clem stuffing her naked hand in her armpit, sniffing it, and making an awful disgusted face, proving that even she had her limits.

"I think we oughta make them an example of slothiness and such." Clem said, pushing up her sleeves. "The preacher said that laziness is a sin, and I'm sure if they keep slacking they'll get a seat in hell."

'Hush up Clem." Mary swatted at her arm. "You don't know what you're talking about." Jean didn't think that Clementine had actually paid attention to a church sermon in her life. She was just saying things to get her mouth moving, not to get a point across.

As Jean watched Maxine slam the gate to the garden behind her, she began walking up to her inevitable fate. Out of all the things they had on the farm: the house, the garden, the barn, and the surrounding land; the corn field was the most hideous. No matter how you looked at it, corn was a shriveled up and ugly. She'd told her Pa that once and he responded by telling her that the outside was ugly, but the inside was like gold. He had supposed it was a metaphor for life and that most things were like that in some way, and Jean had agreed, but she had to hold back a yawn. She would much prefer everything to be pretty on both the inside and the outside.

Still, it wasn't their appearance that made Jean hate them. It was how tedious the act of yanking each cob off its stalk, all while still making sure they were just right. The silky spaghetti-like tops had to be dried up, you see, or else you'd end up with an underdeveloped vegetable. Jean had made that mistake more than once.

Mary had already grabbed the giant wicker baskets they used to hold the corn and placed them by their feet. Her and Clem made quick work, hastily digging through the stalks. Jean stood there for a moment, watching them in their concentration. It was as if they didn't know anything else then harvest corn, as if they'd been doing their whole lives. The saddest part was when Jean realized they had, and that so did she.

"Mama wants you to be my maid of honor, you know." Mary said, matter of factly. Jean almost jumped. It truly came out of nowhere.

"She does?"

"Don't act surprised Jeanie. There isn't anyone else. Mama would make herself her the maid of honor but she ain't a maid no more. And Matron doesn't flatter her." She threw the corn into the basket and wiped her hands, stopping momentarily. "Mama could make Pa the maid of honor and I wouldn't really care—I just want to get married. You resisting is just gonna make me wait longer than I want, so just do it, okay?

Jean nodded.

"Is Mama gonna make me dress up all prettylike?" Clem said, wrinkling up her nose.

Mary winced. "I think she's expecting you to at least brush your hair."

After listening to Clementine's grumbles, Jean began to zone out. She began thinking about the weeks ahead. After just briefly thinking about the days of the week, trying to recognize anything she needed to do, she realized that her birthday was just in a few days. August 1st, just the beginning of the end of summer. She was going to turn eighteen. So long ago, it seemed as if that age was never going to happen. It was an impossible number, something to only daydream about. Yet, the day creeped closer and closer within each passing minute.