“Will you quit looking out that window, son?” my dad asks me, sweeping the floor in front of the counter. I yawn and stuff my hands in my pockets.
“Probably not.” The wires of the broom scrape the wood in raspy rhythms for a moment or two until I feel my dad's hand on my shoulder.
“You don't need to worry about her. Worrying won't do anything but distract you. You have a job to do here.” He turns around and starts sweeping again. I exhale deeply across the window sill, lifting the millions of dust particles into the air. My dad whips quickly around just in time to see me sneeze. He frowns before handing me a rag. “Start with the dusting.”
I reluctantly take the cloth and set to work wiping down all of the dusty surfaces in our store. Business is slow like it normally is on Sundays, and we use it to straighten things up and make it look presentable. And it being the during the first weeks of summer vacation, we expect plenty of business. Since I have nothing better to do, I help my dad, although one person can easily do all of the cleaning. It isn't all that bad though; my dad keeps the radio on so we can listen to music while we clean. I whistle along to “My Maria” as it plays through the grimy boombox by the cash register. I'll be sure to clean that extra well; it deserves to know that it isn't neglected.
By two o'clock, I have all of the dusting done. Although I can still pick up residue when I slide my finger across the wood, it's much better than it once was. I climb up on the counter to begin work on the stereo. My father notices the change in acoustics when I pick the boombox up.
“What are you doing boy?” he asks me.
“I'm cleaning the boombox, dad.”
My father sets his broom aside and puts his hands on his hips, shaking his furrowed head at me. “Why?”
I shrug before scraping at the caked on dirt. “'Cause I want to.”
“I'll never understand you.” He returns to sweeping the room for the second time. “Oh, and I'm expecting a feed truck to come at about three. You'll need to work the register while I help unload it.”
“Alright, dad.”
The soft, jerking chords of “I Swear” play through the radio, bringing back my premonitions about Jenna. I set the stereo back down on the counter and just listen, losing all thoughts except those about Jenna. “Dad, do you think...”
“I swear if it's anything about Jenna, I'm gonna hang you by the ear from the ceiling! She's on a vacation, let her have her fun and stop worrying about her!” my dad stops me.
Seconds tick by, marked by the old clock above the door. “Has Jenna called again?”
“Are you gonna ask me this every half hour?”
“I just wanted to know. I haven't heard from her since three days ago.”
“Calling's expensive from Europe. And she don't need to call you everyday.”
I grumble my acknowledgement and keep cleaning the boombox until the feed truck arrives.
“You're in control, Colin. I'll be back in half an hour. Hopefully,” my dad tells me before he disappears around the side of the building. I hop off the counter and toss a wad of paper on the floor, kicking it wherever I want. I'm clumsy, of course. I was never born to play soccer, but nonetheless, it entertains me.
“Hey, Howdy, Hey Falcon Country! It's Timothy Stewart, your DJ for this afternoon! That last one was 'I Hope You Dance' by Faith Hill, and what a success she's had on that one! And for all of you folks who have hoped that it will rain, well you are in luck! Rain is on the way for the listening area, however there is the risk of some thunderstorms. The National Weather Service in Goodland has put us under a Severe Thunderstorm Watch, so keep an eye out for some lightning! Coming up next is Little Texas with 'God Blessed Texas'!”
YOU ARE READING
Kansas Summer
روحانياتEveryone wants a perfect love story, although we find that it's impossible at times. Colin King and Jenna Jackson believe they have written the best one of all. However, their faith in their relationship is sheltered by the small Kansas town they...
