Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
My eyes scan the wall of hose clamps until they land on the sizes I need, and I grab a few of each, knowing I’m going to need more than I think I will.
Between coolant hoses on tractors and loaders, fuel return lines on older equipment, and drain lines on the wash system, I feel like I’m in this aisle of the farm supply store more than anywhere else.
I grab the hydraulic fittings I also need, then turn to head for the front counter to pick up the humidity gauges we ordered in.
But as I round the corner of the aisle, I stop.
Well, fuck.
Ashton looks up from the fencing supplies, and a smirk slides into place when his eyes meet mine. “Hey, Silas.”
I give him a short nod and angle my body to move past him, but he steps into my path.
“Long time no see,” he says as his eyes drop to my dirty boots and jeans, and the clamps and fittings in my hands. “Still in the farm life, I see.”
I glare at him as my grip tightens on the equipment in my hands and my heart thumps harder. I haven’t seen Ashton in years. I know he visits his family in town, but I don’t know where he lives now, what he’s doing, or anything about him anymore. And that’s how I want it to stay.
“Tia, this is my old friend Silas,” Ashton says, his smirk shifting into a smile that could almost be sincere if I didn’t know any better.
I slide my gaze to the tiny blonde woman standing next to him, and she looks up at me with a wide smile.
“Hi!” she says brightly. “I’m Tia, his fiancée.”
“Hi,” I answer, then shift my focus past Ashton and step sideways again to leave.
But he lifts a hand and presses it to my shoulder to stop me. The urge to drop everything from my hands and punch him rises fast, and I barely hold it together as I flick my eyes to him with a clenched jaw.
He chuckles and lowers his hand. “You always were a man of few words. I see nothing’s changed here.” He tilts his head slightly as his eyes roam over my backwards hat, down to my hoodie with holes in the sleeves. “Well, almost nothing. No one wants to stick around for dirt and diesel, eh?”
Heat floods my entire body as my muscles tighten, and I step closer to him. “Fuck you.”
Tia quickly looks up from the fencing insulators and screws in her hands and glances between me and Ashton with wide eyes.
Ashton chuckles, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “It’s fine, Tia. He’s just a hothead.” He shrugs. “We’re just picking up fencing supplies for my aunt’s horses. This doesn’t have to turn into a problem, Silas.”
My body feels like it’s vibrating as I stare back at him and try not to completely lose it. I pull a breath in and drop my eyes to the supplies in Tia’s hands. “Then you might want to get the right screws.”
I step past Ashton as he glances down at the screws they picked out, bumping his shoulder hard with mine as I leave. They can figure it out on their own that they’ll strip the second the post shifts.
“So, these aren’t the right ones?” I hear Tia ask Ashton, and I vaguely hear him mumble something as I head for the front counter.
When I reach it, Kevin already has the humidity gauges ready for me.
“Get that truck running again yet?” he asks as he scans the clamps and fittings.
I shake my head as the shame I’m already feeling twists into something more.
I haven’t touched my old truck in a long time.
If I’d fixed the transmission, I could have kept it going.
But I didn’t. At the time, it didn’t seem worth it.
And now, it sits next to my cabin in the same state it was when I found it at this store, when Kevin sold it to me.
“It might be broken forever,” I say, gathering everything up from the counter.
Kevin lets out a breath of laughter. “With you, I highly doubt that.” He jerks his chin towards the load in my arms. “It’s on the farm’s tab.”
“Thanks,” I say, giving him a nod and turning to leave.
I catch sight of Ashton and Tia, still in the same spot, looking like they’re in an argument over a pack of screws, and quickly head outside and into my truck.
But as I start it up, I pause, staring at the gleaming, high-end SUV parked across from me. I know who that belongs to.
And I hate that I have to fight the urge to walk over there and smash the windows in.
I close my eyes and blow out a breath as I grip the steering wheel tight. Then I open my eyes, put the truck in drive, and leave.
The sun dips below the horizon as I drive along the field-lined road towards home, and the wide sky is streaked with clouds that look like they’re catching fire as they reflect the remaining orange rays from the sun.
Light fades to dark indigo, where stars begin to flicker to life, and I watch as they slowly appear.
When I pull into Dad’s driveway and park next to his truck, I slowly get out and let my gaze roam over the farm. It’s quiet now that everyone has gone home. The soft light remaining in the sky creates long shadows across the lot, and I trace each one with my eyes.
The farm looks almost the same as it always has, ever since I can remember.
The garage on the far end of the farm still has the same patch on the roof that’s a slightly different colour, and the office door across from the storage shed has never been painted, even though it’s a weird bright green that doesn’t match anything else out here.
But the quirks on this farm have never changed… and I don’t want them to.
I don’t want anything to change. And I don’t know why that’s such a bad thing. I don’t know why everything and everyone has to move, grow, expand, do more… all the time. And I don’t know why it’s seen as a failure not to do those things.
I bite the inside of my cheek as a sudden swell of emotion rises and tears sting the back of my eyes.
But everyone has always wanted me to change. And when I don’t…
I squeeze my eyes shut and force that thought back down before it gets any louder. When I open them, I stare at the green door again and try to let its consistent presence bring me some comfort. It will always be here… this farm will always be here. Just as it is. My home, and my safe space.
With a deep breath, I head up the stairs and through the back door, the smell of supper greeting me the second I step inside.
Mama smiles when I step into the kitchen, setting a bowl of roasted potatoes in the middle of the table. “Just in time.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, glancing at the table that’s already set. “Took longer than I thought.”
“Get everything?” Dad asks, handing me a beer.
I nod, twist the cap off, and take a drink.
“Well then, let’s eat,” Papa says, pulling a chair out for Mama. “Looks delicious, love.”
“Thank you,” Mama says as she slides into her seat, and we all do the same.
Dad eyes me as he passes the plate of salmon. “What?” he asks.
I shake my head, put a piece on my plate, and pass it on to Mama beside me. “Nothing.”
But clearly, I didn’t do a good enough job leaving it all outside.
I hate that this run-in with Ashton is still bothering me. I hate that I ran into him at all, and that he was in a place that I never thought I would see him, ever.
I fucking hate what he said…
And I hate that it’s all true.
Mama’s hand closes gently over mine, and I blink as I shift my eyes to her, realizing I just zoned out.
She just gives me a small smile, squeezes my hand again, then spoons asparagus onto my plate.
“Oh, I was able to pull the moisture readings from the northeast field this afternoon,” Dad says as he spears a potato with his fork. “I compared it to the stand count data from last season, and the lightest readings match almost exactly where the emergence was thinnest.”
Papa nods, setting his beer down with a thoughtful hum. “Hopefully that’ll explain why those rows came up patchy.”
Dad chews and nods again. “I think we should till deeper this year and work in more compost before we replant. Might be too compacted in the lower section.”
I take a bite of salmon and stare at my plate. When I walked that field last, it had a low spot that was holding moisture longer. But I thought we sorted that out with drainage…
“Hm,” Papa says, wiping his hands on his napkin. “You’ll probably want to offset the next planting row by a few inches, too. If the water’s pushing down slope, spacing will be off.”
My brow furrows, and I look up at him. “But… what? Aren’t we fixing the drainage issues?”
“We are,” Papa says. “But we still have slope pushing runoff east, so unless we correct the planting direction, it’s going to keep drifting that way.”
I nod slowly, but it still doesn’t make sense.
East? That’s not where the run marks were…
and wait. What about the drainage? We’ve shifted planting direction before, but…
I don’t know why we’re doing this now. Thoughts layer over each other in my head as I try to make sense of it and catch up, but it all just blurs together.
“I’ll remap the field for the drill, then. The GPS lines are still set from last year,” Dad says.
I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my fork tight. Why can’t I get this…
“Make sure the soil is dried out enough first so you don’t risk packing it down again,” Papa adds.
Suddenly, I slam my fork down on my plate. “Fuck!”
I stare at my plate as my ears ring, my chest heaves, and anger rolls through me. And I’m surprised at how easily it arrived.
“Silas,” Mama says gently.
I rub my hands hard over my face and sigh. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong, bud?” Dad asks.
“Nothing,” I say, more sharply than I intended. Even though that’s a lie. But I don’t want to get into it. I don’t want to talk about what happened tonight at the farm supply store, and the anger flooding my veins at the reminders of how I’ve failed and just continue to fail.
There’s silence around the table for a moment, and I know they’re all sharing glances, deciding who’s going to take this one.
“You know,” Mama says eventually. “I’ve been waiting for a new drawing.”
My eyes shift to meet hers, and she smiles warmly.
“My wall is looking a little bare,” she adds. “It’s been months since you gave me the last one.”
I keep my eyes on her as she just smiles, like she has all the time in the world for me. She just calmly waits as I let my breaths even out and the anger fade. My mind starts to clear, and my thoughts begin to sort themselves out.
“My friend Diane was over the other day,” Mama continues. “She absolutely loves the last one you did of the tractor in the field.”
I nod slightly and drop my gaze to my plate as I pick up my fork and push the asparagus back into place. “I need more pencils.”
“Well, we can get more,” Papa says. “That’s no problem.”
I look up at him, and he gives me a smile as he takes a bite of his supper.
“I’m heading into Charlottetown this week to pick up the new belt loader for the grading line,” Dad says, pulling my attention to him. “Come with me, and you can go to the art store and get everything you need.”
I sit up a bit straighter at that idea. I hate going into Charlottetown, and I can’t fucking stand trying to figure out how to buy shit online.
I don’t like leaving our small town, and I don’t even like leaving the farm.
Which is why I let my pencils wear down to nubs, which I can barely draw with, and more than half of my coloured pencils are used up or lost. But I do want to replace them, and if Dad is going anyway…
“What about work?” I ask.
Dad huffs and takes a drink of his beer. “We own the business, Silas. You can take a day off.”
I hesitate as guilt presses in, but the excitement of getting new pencils and paper wins. Just last night, I was sitting on the deck of my cabin, watching the deer in the trees and wishing I could draw them.
“Ok,” I nod, and a small smile breaks free.
Mama beams. “I’ll pick out another frame.”
As they settle into conversation about which of my drawings has been their favourite, I sit back and look around the table at the people who always show up, no matter what. My family, who chose me and continues to choose me… even when I’m difficult.
And the last of my anger slips away, leaving nothing but safety and calm in its place.