Chapter 2
Chapter Two
B efore I could bend over and let the universe have its way with me, I had to fulfill my end of Janet’s deal. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was a deal with the devil.
“Go on,” Janet urged. “He won’t hurt you.” Janet was forever the optimist. She was delusional, but optimistically so. Ralph had his phone out so he could record.
I held the carrot out in front of me as far as I could reach. Simon pushed the entirety of his baby cow weight against the gate, trying to get to the carrot. The gate bulged outward. A few more pounds of pressure and I think it would have burst.
“Now you’re just teasing him,” Janet scolded. Simon’s long pink tongue flicked through the bars.
I inched closer. “I’m not teasing him. I’m just trying to avoid getting my hand mauled.”
“He won’t bite you.” Janet stepped on the bottom rail of the gate for added height and leaned over the fence. She patted Simon on top of his head. “See? He’s friendly.” The baby cow mooed appreciatively, tilting its head and leaning into Janet’s patting.
I eyed Simon, looking for any sign of aggression. He licked his lips. Whether he was eyeing the carrot, or my fingers, I couldn’t be sure. In the distance, thunderclouds rumbled, which in hindsight was a clear portent of doom.
I took a deep breath.
I made my peace with God.
I leaned in toward Simon and I …
“Hey, is that Jack Thompson over there?” Ralph pointed across the yard.
My head whipsawed like I had been smacked hard across the face, following Ralph’s line of sight. My eyes locked on him instantly. Like a submarine captain staring down an incoming torpedo.
It took me a moment to realize my mouth was hanging open. The entire time I had been staring at Jack Thompson, Ralph and Janet had been staring at me. They looked at me the same way they had looked at the ass on the road. Was she just going to just stand there drooling? Or was she going to charge?
“You okay?” Janet looked at me as if I was about to jump from a tall building.
“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” The ninety-two degree air felt like it was ninety two hundred. Straightening the foam hat on my head, I said, “I’m not a teenager anymore Ralph, I’m a fully grown adult woman. I’m the number two agent in the number three real estate firm in all of Central Florida. I have my own Netflix account. I even have a 401k with company matching. I don’t even know what that means, but I have one and my company matches it.”
“You don’t seem okay,” Ralph said.
“Yeah. Like the opposite of okay,” said Janet.
Somehow, I pulled my eyes away from Jack. “Actually, you know what? I’m better than okay. I’m great. I can still do downward dog in yoga class without rupturing my spinal cord. I have all my original teeth. Plus, guess what? I still fit in size six jeans.” I lifted my shirt to show them.
“Your button is loose,” said Janet.
I yanked down my shirt. “I’m still wearing them, aren’t I?”
“Do you want us to call 9-1-1?” Ralph asked. “Your face is the color of an infected pimple.”
“Look, Mary, nobody would blame you if you were still upset after what he did to you.” Janet’s eyes narrowed as she watched Jack get some sort of blue colored drink from the bar. “I know I would be.”
“That was twenty years ago,” I said. “Ancient history. I’m not the type to hold a grudge.”
Ralph rolled his eyes. “You’re exactly the type to hold a grudge. Grudge-holding is your secret superpower.”
“Not sure that’s a secret,” said Janet.
“Well, I hope you really are over him, Mary,” said Ralph. “Because he’s looking this way.”
I froze. Maybe if I held perfectly still and didn’t breathe, Jack wouldn’t see me. Like a chameleon that blends into its surroundings. A chameleon wearing a neon orange foam hat.
Then Janet did the unthinkable. She waved.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“Waving.”
“Now he’s walking over here,” Ralph warned.
It felt like my eyeballs were sweating. I snatched Ralph’s sunglasses out of his front shirt pocket and tipped the foam hat down to cover more of my face. “How do I look?” The stains under my armpits were now the size of apocalyptic black holes.
“Like Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now ,” said Ralph, humming Ride of the Valkyries. “I love the smell of panic in the morning.”
“That’s not panic.” Janet wrinkled her nose. “I think one of the cows got into the baked beans.”
While Ralph and Janet continued to debate the root cause of the toxic cloud of farm odors, I turned around, scanning the barn yard for a means of escape. The ponies were twenty, maybe thirty yards away. If I was quick about it, perhaps I could ride off into the sunset.
“Mary?” The voice came from behind me. “Mary Burns? Is that you?” A man’s voice. “Wow, after all these years.”
I turned back to confront the voice, a voice that belonged to Jack Thompson.
He looked like he just stepped out of a cigarette ad in an old Playboy magazine. Was he always that tall? A red checkered shirt clung to his deltoids. His denim wrapped butt was the shape of a ripe peach. Ready to be plucked. Then plucked again in the shower. And plucked a third time after breakfast in bed. With waffles. And pancakes. So that’s what twenty years of high octane testosterone does to the human body. He wore a hat. A real cowboy hat. Black, of course. Not the neon orange foam the rest of us fools were wearing.
I glanced back at the ponies, but my window of escape was now closed. Nailed shut and mined with heavy explosives.
“It’s me, Jack.” He held up his hands like he just reappeared after a magic trick.
I knew I was staring, but my eyes told my brain to mind its own business. His jaw was a cement block. His forearms jackhammers. He wore a big silver buckle on his waist, just below a washboard of chiseled abdominal muscles. Just above his bulging …
“Ouch!” Janet elbowed me in the ribs.
Jack must have mistaken my mental paralysis for a lack of recognition. “You remember me, right?” Of course I remembered Jack Thompson. Jack Thompson still haunted my nightmares.
I scrunched my face and played dumb, which really wasn’t hard for me in that moment.. “Hmmm. Jack? Um, yeah, sure, I think so. Jack Thompson, right?”
Ralph rolled his eyes.
Jack looked older, of course. Well aged like a fine wine. In high school, his body perfectly combined an all-state quarterback and a Greek god. Twenty years later, Jack had the body of … well, an all-pro quarterback and a Greek god. Clearly, he owned a gym membership. And a team of full time personal trainers. And a testosterone injection machine.
“Janet, good to see you again.” Jack flashed his million-dollar smile, the one that made girls’ panties melt. “It’s been a long time.”
Janet’s eyes answered, “not long enough.”
“And you’re Ralph, right?” Jack extended his hand. “Didn’t we play dodge ball together?”
Ralph’s hand disappeared into Jack’s giant maw. “I’m not sure play is the right word.”
“Good times. Good times.”
“The best,” Ralph’s mouth agreed. His eyes expressed a sentiment similar to Janet’s.
When Jack turned back, I felt his eyes sweep over me. “Mary Burns. Wow.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You look great.” His cheeks flushed. “Amazing.” Was that the tip of his tongue on his lip? Apparently, the Universe had her hand on the temperature dial and cranked things up another notch. I began sweating in places I hadn’t sweat in for years.
“Are you going to stab me with that?” Jack pointed to my carrot, the one I was supposed to feed Simon.
I realized I was holding it aloft, like Norman Bates standing outside a motel shower. “No, of course not.” I yanked the carrot behind my back. Maybe if Jack Thompson hadn’t been so distracting, I would have heard the hungry moo behind me.
“I guess I couldn’t blame you if you did. After what I did to you. That’s why I was hoping you would be here today,” said Jack. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“You want to talk?” In the distance, another rumble of thunder rolled in with the setting sun. A storm was coming. “You want to talk to me?”
“So I could apologize,” Jack explained. He smelled like raw hide and sawdust and the pheromones of uncircumcised bulls. “Maybe make it up to you somehow. If you’d let me.”
My pitiful brain scrambled to keep up. Did Jack Thompson just ask me out? My Hook Up Janet plan took a steep dive off a high cliff, crashed, and burned. Nothing left but the ashes. It was time for a new plan. And in this new plan, Janet wasn’t the one hooking up. I looked around for a fire extinguisher I could use to douse my crotch.
Perhaps it was the hand of God reaching down from the heavens. To give me the finger. Perhaps it was karma, and I was Genghis Khan in a former life. Or maybe the Universe had a grand master plan and my role in that plan was to endure eternal suffering.
Everything that happened next happened in slow motion.
I heard a MOO.
I heard a SCREAM.
I heard a CRASH.
I turned just in time to see Simon head butt the gate, the same gate Janet leaned against when she was patting Simon’s head. The same gate with the sign that explicitly said-
Warning, Do Not Lean On Gate!
Apparently fed up and disgusted by my carrot taunting, Simon took matters into his own hands. Or hooves, I suppose, in his case.
It would have been nice if this was the part of the story where Jack Thompson swooped in, scooped me up in his big, brawny arms, and dashed me off to safety. And then I, ever-so- grateful, leaned in close and we shared this amazing fairy tale kiss. But that’s not what happened.
What really happened was the herd of cows, led by Simon, broke loose from their pen.
They started coming.
I started running away.
I should have dropped the carrot.
I didn’t drop the carrot.
I kept running.
They kept chasing.
I turned back, only for a second, to see how close the cows were.
I didn’t see the dessert table.
Until it was too late.
When I opened my eyes, a flock of canaries orbited my cranium. It was hard to tell what part of the mess was the remains of the chocolate fountain, and what part of the mess resulted from the cows eating the chocolate fountain.
Ralph said, “Holy cow.”
Janet said, “I’ll go find a doctor.”
Jack said, “You found one. Right here.”
And that’s when the hero really did swoop in to save the day.
“You’re a doctor?” After hitting my head, I wasn’t sure I had heard him right.
Jack swept aside the mangled chocolate wreckage and dropped to one knee, boot planted in a smashed apple pie, jeans smeared with brownies. Possibly cow poop.
He leaned in close, almost on top of me. Face to face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
I glimpsed a fancy watch under Jack’s checkered cuff. Rolex?
“Mary?” Jack had manicured fingernails. Cuticles oiled. Nail plates buffed. “Can you hear me?” The moisturizer he used must have been made of cashmere and baby duck fluff. “Mary, are you okay?”
Wait a second. Hold on. I stared at Jack’s fingers. Long fingers. Slender fingers. Bare fingers. Jack Thompson wasn’t wearing any rings.
Jack leaned in closer, giving me a closeup view of his flawless face. The dimples on his cheeks were as big as moon craters. “How many fingers?” He smelled like cake. I really, really, really wanted to lick him.
I counted Jack’s ringless, manicured fingers. “Three.”
It must have been the right answer, because he smiled. I’m not sure how it got there, but one of those super soft hands took my hand, pulling me upright. It was even softer than I could have imagined. So many baby ducks must have given their lives. Every spot where our fingers touched sent a surge of energy through my entire body. Like a bolt of lighting that set my vagina on fire and fried every nerve ending in my brain.
Not young. Still stupid.
“I’m just going to take your pulse.” His fingers traced up to my wrist. “Your heart rate is elevated.” No shit. “Is it okay if I examine you?” Absolutely. “I want to make sure nothing’s broken.” Break me Jack, please!
Jack probed me for injuries. “Does this hurt?” Not physically. “How about this?” Soft fingers tested my ankle, then worked their way up my leg. “Or this?” Jack wrapped his hands around my kneecap, his thumbs sinking into the muscles and tendons on all sides. The pressure sent tiny earthquakes up into my hips, the aftershocks rippling across my pelvis. Jack gently pressed against my ribs. “You could have broken a rib.”
It wasn’t my ribs that were broken; it was my libido. Pushed over the limit after years of neglect. Logic and reason abandoned me. Replaced by horniness and lust. If Jack had asked me in that moment to follow him behind the barn, strip naked, and bend over a hay bale, I would have done it for sure.
“I think I’m okay.” I was about two seconds away from having an orgasm.
Jack helped me to my feet, then gave me another good looking-over from head to toe. “Nothing broken, so that’s good.” His eyes seemed to linger again, his teeth sinking into his lip. Probably because I was smeared in strawberry frosting and speckled with sprinkles. “But there’s a chance you might have a mild concussion. We should get you to the hospital just to be sure.”
Again, thunder rattled the darkening sky. A growing breeze twisted the leaves in the trees.
“I called an ambulance.” Janet plucked a rice crispy treat out of my hair.
“You want me to ride with you?” Jack held on to my arm again, keeping me steady on my feet.
“I got her from here,” said Ralph, swooping in for support.
Jack handed me his business card, Dr. Jack Thompson. “Just in case.”
* * *
Ralph rode with me in the ambulance while Janet fetched her car. The plan was for her to meet us at the hospital. I felt fine, physically, really, only my pride was bruised. But Jack insisted I get checked.
At the hospital, Ralph waited with me as I filled out the insurance papers. He waited with me for an exam room to come free. He waited with me until the doctor came.
I ended up being fine, of course. All good. Just like I said. When the nurse finished stapling all the paperwork, Ralph helped the wheel chair guy push me down to the curb.
As we waited for Janet, Ralph sat down beside me. “You smell like cow.” Despite smelling like a farm, Ralph let me lay my head on his shoulder. When he saw the tear on my cheek, he rubbed my back.
“I can’t believe Jack Thompson is a doctor,” I said.
Ralph shook his head. “I thought he’d be running a puppy mill or something.”
“Seal clubber.” I wiped the snot dripping from my nose with the back of my hand.
“Seal clubber?”
“Someone who clubs baby seals for their fur.”
I pulled Jack’s card out of my pocket, turning it over in my hand. Dr. Jack Thompson. I still couldn’t believe what happened. Part of me hoped it was all a bad dream, but Jack’s business card was proof it was real. I sat there on the curb staring at his phone number like it was some kind of algebra equation. Or a winning lottery ticket. Maybe the combination to a treasure filled vault. “He wasn’t wearing a ring, you know.”
Ralph gave me a funny look. “You had time to notice that, did you? In between getting trampled and running for your life?”
“His hands were literally on my body. Next to my boobs. Beside my crotch. Hard not to notice his fingers when they were actively probing me.”
“At least he didn’t give you mouth to mouth.”
Janet never showed.