"I take back what I said the first time we met. I never could have been more wrong."
"Oh, and what would that be?"
"Every thing about you - every thing you do, or say, or even when you scrunch your nose when you don't really like something - just ma...
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THE FIRST FEW WEEKS WERE hardest. After the first few days, my whole body was covered in a violent sunburn that ached when I moved and rubbed aggressively against my sheets when I slept. My body hurt with the labor around the farm, and my body was still adjusting to the new diet.
Art had me waking up at 4:30 in the morning "with the first sound of the cock". By cock did he mean the bird, or Art? I had asked myself after the first few days. Honestly, probably Art.
I needed to be in the Rooster's hutch by 4:45, and the chicken's coop by 5:00, collecting whatever eggs were available. After making some breakfast in Art's kitchen, and drinking the one think that I was allowed to have that wasn't locally grown, coffee, (I could probably thank Billy for that one) I had to go and tend to the horses, then the cows, then the sheep, and then the goats. I was used to skipping lunch--I had too much to do.
Weed the fields, Josepine. They're looking a little run down.
Take this into town, Josephine. They'll be needing it at the market.
Shuck the corn, Josephine. Don't want to waste perfectly good produce.
Mow the lawn, Josephine. It's getting too long.
Take your run, Josephine. I'll know if you don't.
Chop the wood, Josephine. It'll be a cold night tonight.
There was always something more for me to do. Luckily, I was never alone. Koda still glued to my side, his tongue out and a grin-like expression permanently etched onto his face. He looked like the happiest boy in the world. But sadly, the little guys grew with me, and was now almost three times the size he was when I first found him all those weeks ago. Oh, they grew up so fast.
That first night, I was at my wit's end. I had no clue how to control what was happening to me. I sat in front of a planter's box for about two hours, begging the lettuce to grow. My stomach had growled and grumbled, and all I could do was stare openingly at the dirt as if it would all appear suddenly. I screamed, and I grunted, and I groaned until suddenly small sprouts started to surface. So I had taken a deep breath and rested my hands into the soil. Low and behold, everything began to steadily shoot up around me.
Each day, it took a little less time, and each day, the plants came up a little brighter and healthier. The statement rang true, that with practice came a more perfect result. As it took less time, Art would wait for me to enjoy dinner, eating whatever I had grown. And with the dinners, Art and I got closer. Sure, he was a complete dickat times. He was a hardheaded asshole, and he definitely enjoyed to see what I was like when I got mad. But he really wasn't that bad of a guy.
He had been married for almost forty five years; he was 71 years old. His wife, Fiona, had passed away three years ago, only months before they reached their anniversary. He was raised on the Quiluete Reservation, and looked over Billy when he was a little boy. Fiona was like me--a pale face, as we're affectionately called--who was visiting family when they met. Even now, I could see the love in Art's eyes as he told me about her. His father had kicked him out when he found out that Art planned to propose; apparently his father had been very adamant about continuing a "pure" Quiluete bloodline. My nose had wrinkled at the thought. The two of them had moved out here to Wyoming, and had lived happily together for many years. Sadly, though, all happy stories needed an ending eventually.
"You know, Art, you're not too bad," I note, looking at him with a plate in my hand as I began to wash the dishes from the night.
"Yeah? Well don't go telling anyone, kid," he retorts, flicking a bit of the subsy water at me with a chuckle. As I had expected on the first day, his laugh was something that I heard a lot of. The man found a way to laugh at everything, finding amusement in even the simplest of things. And while I had only imagined that it was driving me crazy, since most of it would be at my expense, I became fond of it. I gasped, my jaw dropping before I flicked some back at him. The two of us went back and forth until we were each sufficiently wet, and laughing at how the other looked like a wet dog.
We spent a little extra time together, knowing that while neither one of us would admit it, we would miss the other when I was gone. Art had become like an uncle; a cool, no bullshit, give-it-to-you-straight type of uncle. And I had needed that. Forks and the rez felt so confining sometimes. You knew everyone, so it mattered more what you had to say. It was so easy to get wrapped up in the politics of it all, and to have your own predisposed opinions about someone else. It couldn't just be simple advice. But with Art, it could.
He didn't give a shit who I was talking about, and he gave even less of a fuck when telling me if I was the one being unreasonable at any time. For example, after telling me about his warming love story, he had asked about mine. When I told him it all, he almost made me run an extra ten miles into the mountains.
"You really need to get your head out of your ass," he says. "And smell the damn roses while you're at it. You're too pessimisstic for a teenage girl."
"Aren't we supposed to be moody and cranky all the time?" I retort, smirking at him as I dip my spoon into a little treat. After soaking me to the bone, I goaded some ice cream out of him. He'd never admit it, but Art wanted some too. I knew he was sneaking some late at night while I was back in the cabin with Koda.
"I wouldn't know."
"Then how would you know that I'm being too pessimistic?" I retort back, a smirk on my face.
"My God, you're impossible!" Art exclaims, still chuckling.
"And don't you forget it," I retort, winking back at him. Koda took that moment to come in for the night. He had always adored running around with the other animals on the farm. He got his exercise in for the day, and he was able to be the social butterfy he was meant to be.
"There he is," Art cheers. "I was starting to get worried about you, buddy!" he exclaims as Koda comes bounding over. I could hardly admit it... but I knew I was going to miss this place.
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Twice in one day? Unheard of! Lol sorry, I'm the absolute worst. I have class in 6 hours, and I finally did the lab report that was due for it? ... Like an hour ago? Omg I'm horrible with doing my work, but here we are, absolutely THRIVING! (Missed two assignments already this week, and I'm still jetlagged off my ass). Better luck tomorrow? Maybe?
