CHAPTER 9

THE BEST OF TIMES AND THE WORST OF TIMES

MARY GOLD

TUESDAY JUNE 17, 1986

It was my twenty-first birthday.  It truly was to be the best and the worst day of my life. I’m thankful that the worst came first and was remedied later in the day.  I saw something the evening before that absolutely crushed me, and I cried myself to sleep.  

I had taken my birthday off from work, but I was too depressed to get out of bed until early afternoon.  Jake tried to contact me several times, but he was the reason that I was in this state of mind, and I didn’t want to see or talk to him.  He knocked on the door and tried calling, but I just ignored him.

I think that I started to fall in love with Jake that first day we met when he was so kind and helpful.  It was now almost ten months later.  I felt like there was chemistry between us, but he continually pulled back from it, which I understood given our original agreement to just be friends.  We saw each almost every day, and on the days we couldn’t see each other, we talked on the phone.  

I was truly grateful that Jake and I got along so well, but I was increasingly troubled that he never so much as tried to hold my hand. I guess I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. Delaying gratification and being disciplined wasn’t easy. That’s why most people don’t do it. But in hindsight, we could have communicated better. Were we just friends? Or were we courting as well? This lack of communication was also what culminated in a most miserable, trying day.

In the spring of 1986, a lovely young lady named Suzy Phillips began attending our church.  She was the niece of the pastor’s wife and had moved here from California. She was  blond, perky, and gorgeous.  I thought she seemed nice and sweet, but I had a serious problem with her.  She was obviously hot for Jake.

Unbeknownst to me, Suzy had been pestering Jake for a motorcycle ride. He had been politely declining her petition, but when she showed up at his grandparent’s house, he gave in and gave her a ride.  This happened the day before my birthday.  

When I saw them return, I put aside feelings of jealousy and stepped out of my door to go say hi. I couldn’t believe what I saw as I froze halfway out the door.  Jake and Suzy were kissing! I slinked back into the house, and commenced almost twenty four hours of severe grief and depression. The way I felt was reminiscent of my feelings when my parents split up.

It was early afternoon the next day by the time I was up and dressed.  It was also early afternoon when I rebuked myself for being so jealous and ignoring Jake. After all, we were just friends. It wasn’t his fault that I not only wanted, but expected more.

After ignoring a half dozen of Jake’s attempts to contact me, I decided to stop hiding from him on his seventh attempt. After hearing the knock, I peeked out the window, then prayed for strength and wisdom after checking the redness of my eyes. I opened the door, forcing a smile.

“Hi, Mary,” Jake said with a look of concern on his face.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I said as cheerfully as I could muster.

“I’ve tried to get a hold of you several times,” he said.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I said with no intention of telling him why I wasn’t feeling well.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I’m much better now,” I said. “I had a really bad night of sleep.  I didn’t end up getting out of bed until just a little while ago.”

I suspected that he was going to ask me about a motorcycle ride which I planned to decline, but instead he handed me a small gift wrapped box and smiled.

“Happy birthday,” Jake said.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the gift that he handed me.  After witnessing his lip lock with Suzy Philips, I wasn’t expecting a gift from him. I wasn’t even excited as I opened it. But it was a pretty silver banded watch, and I felt my mouth open in surprise.

“Jake, you shouldn’t have,” I said with a genuine smile as I put it on.

“Let’s go for a cycle ride,” Jake said. “I want to show you a place that I discovered.”

‘No, thanks’ was what my brain said with stubborn resistance. But his gift lowered my defenses. So I quietly responded. “Okay.”

Jake took me to some abandoned railroad tracks. My first thought was, he typically took me somewhere like a flower garden. Now he’s taking me to an overgrown jungle. We parked the bike and began walking down the old tracks.  I had such mixed feelings.  I absolutely loved being with Jake, but apparently I was just a friend, a pal, a buddy, a Christian sister. Suzy seemed to becoming his girlfriend, a romantic partner, a lover, maybe eventually his wife.

He had kissed her! Not me, who he had been hanging out with for months! But pretty, blonde Suzy, in her form fitting Jordache jeans as the engine on his motorcycle tick, ticked from the heat. They probably even had a make out session on one of the benches Jake and I had frequented. I felt sick again, and wished I hadn’t gone with him.

I was fighting off this discouragement when we came to a bridge.  Now I don’t like heights at all, and it was at least thirty feet to the creek below and fifty feet across the bridge.  At that height the railroad bridge itself seemed incredibly narrow.  I came to an abrupt halt as Jake started across.

Jake turned and looked at me. “Come on, Mary.”

“No way,” I said.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked with a mischievous grin.

“I’m not walking on that,” I insisted.

He stepped back toward me and took my hand, pulling me.  Normally I would have loved it if he took my hand, but right then I jerked it away and he laughed.  Then he did something that I wasn’t expecting.  He picked me up and began carrying me across!  I kicked and squirmed, but he was too strong. I didn’t want him to drop me, so I closed my eyes and tucked my face into his neck, not wanting to see the creek below.

JAKE

I was taking Mary Gold to show her an old railroad bridge that had a rippling stream beneath it.   I was feeling frustrated and feisty.  Yesterday I had given a gal from church a ride on my motorcycle.  She had been pestering me for some time and I finally gave in, but it was a mistake. Her name was Suzy Phillips, and she had recently moved here from California.

She was, in fact, very pretty.  In appearance, she looked a lot like my ex-girlfriend, Heather Louise Baumgartner.  However Suzy was considerably more flirtatious and more forward than Heather. I’m not gonna lie by saying there wasn’t an element of intrigue. But I was  in love with Mary Gold, and no fleshly vixen could deter this devotion. So although intrigued, I wasn’t actually tempted.

Suzy had come over to my grandparent’s place, and I told her that I had no more than a half hour. So I took her on a motorcycle ride.  When we got back, we climbed off my cycle, and she thanked me.  Then she promptly flung her arms around my neck and kissed me on the lips.  

It caught me off guard and took me completely by surprise.  Like I said, she was very pretty, and if you’re a heterosexual male, it feels pretty good to be kissed by a pretty woman. So it took me a few seconds longer than it should have to come to my senses. Thus the kiss lingered a few seconds longer than it should have before I pushed her away.  

I explained to her that I was in love with Mary Gold and couldn’t do that.  She said she understood and even apologized.  That in itself was a weird situation, to have a beautiful woman apologize for kissing you when you are a nineteen year old man.  She also said that she never would have done that if she had known my feelings for Mary Gold. She thought we were just friends.

“Mary doesn’t seem your type,” she told me.

I didn’t know Suzy knew me well enough to know my tastes.

“Oh yeah?” I responded. “Why isn’t Mary my type?”

“Well… She’s adorably cute, don’t get me wrong. But she’s like, ya know, a bookworm type, hair in bun, always in long skirts, kind of nerdy.  You’re like, all outdoorsy, muscles, and motorcycles.  You look like you should be with a model or something.  As a matter of fact, when I lived in California, I was approached by someone from Playboy to try out for their magazine.”

“You were a Playboy model?” I asked with an arched eyebrow, starting to like her even less.

“Of course not!” she declared with a stern scowl. “I believe in modesty.”

Yet she seemed to be criticizing Mary Gold for appearing too modest.  She also seemed to cross the line with short skirts and low cut tops at church.

“Just so you know, Mary does wear jeans when we go motorcycle riding,” I said.

“Look,” she replied softly. “All I’m saying is you could do much better than Mary.”

“Not in billion years could I ever do better than Mary Gold! There’s more to a person than appearance.”  Then I frowned, because I found Mary Gold more psychically appealing than Suzy in the first place. True, most guys would probably prefer Suzy over Mary Gold. But I’m not most guys. Just like most guys would probably be impressed that Playboy was interested in her, but not me.

Suzy smiled sadly, nodded, and touched my arm. “I’m sorry, I came across all wrong. It was quite conceited of me to assume I’m more, I don’t know, appealing than Mary. She is very attractive in a pre-modern sort of way. I just figured I… Well, never mind. Forget what I was just saying.”

“Okay, I will,” I replied a little more testily than I intended. But I was feeling defensive of Mary Gold, a true beauty physically, personally, and spiritually.

So as Mary Gold and I walked to the railroad bridge, it was going through my mind that I was in love with her and I didn’t know if I even liked Suzy.  Yet my lips had never connected with Mary Gold’s, but they had with Suzy’s.  I also told Suzy that I loved Mary Gold, but I never told Mary Gold that I loved her.  I became determined to change both of these dilemmas before the day was over.  

The problem was that I had never seen Mary Gold so discouraged before, even though she was trying to hide the fact.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.  It was her birthday and she should be happy.  Did she not like getting older?  She was only twenty one.

When we arrived at the bridge, Mary Gold stopped and refused to cross because she thought that it was too far below.  Like I said, I was in a feisty mood so I just scooped Mary Gold up into my arms and carried her across against her will.  

She squirmed, and protested at first. Then she simply tucked her face into my neck and shut her eyes.  Her silky auburn hair smelled of lavender as I touched my nose to it.  I felt something stir deep inside my being.  It was deeper than just sexual attraction. But that was there as well.  Until now our most intimate contact was motorcycle rides, with her arms around my waist. It only took half a minute and we were across. “We’re on the other side,” I told her.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes.  She was sucking on her lower lip, but then released it.  It glistened in the sunlight, reminding me of that first motorcycle ride that I took her on.  She looked at me and our faces were only inches apart. Her eyes seemed extra-large and adorable so close to mine. I grinned, and then I went for it, placing my lips on hers.

“You kissed me!” she said with surprise after the two second kiss. The gold flecks in her emerald eyes seemed to be dancing. With what emotion I couldn’t tell. Was she appalled or thrilled?

“Sorry,” I said a little breathless.

“Don’t be,” she whispered with a little smile.

I put my lips back on hers, and the next twenty seconds was pure bliss until she pushed me violently away. Well, violent for delicate, feminine Mary Gold, anyway.

“I saw you kissing Suzy!” Mary Gold declared angrily as I set her down.

It took my brain a few seconds to process her words. Saw me kiss Suzy? Oh… So was that why she was in a funk? “But I didn’t kiss her.”

She shook her head, and put her hands on her hips in defiance. “I saw you, with my own two eyes.”

She pointed at her eyes with the index and middle finger of her right hand. The gold flecks now seemed to dance with anger.

“I believe that you saw Miss Phillips and me in a lip lock, but she kissed me.  I didn’t kiss her!  I admit it took me by surprise and I didn’t break away as quickly as I should have, but I did break away.  I also told her that I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes got as wide as I’d ever seen them, and her mouth dropped open.

“You’re in love with me?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes, I am,” I declared boldly, putting my own hands on my hips. “And I regret that I told Suzy before you. But maybe one good thing will come out of her just showing up where I live and insisting on a motorcycle ride. Circumstances have now forced me into action.”

“Do you mean in love, or love like a friend?” she asked meekly.

“In love,” I said, gently taking both her hands in mine. “As in I want you to be my wife one day soon.”

“Oh my!” she said, pulling her left hand out of mine and covering her mouth.

“I hope you feel the same way,” I now said meekly.

“Oh I do, I do!” she said, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging me fiercely.

When she pulled back, our lips were joined again, and almost instantly we began kissing like they do in France. After a couple of minutes Mary began to convulse and jerk.  I pulled away and noticed tears rolling down her cheeks.  I was completely dumbfounded because this was probably the best moment of my life and I felt like doing a happy dance.  So why was Mary Gold crying?

“Mary, what’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, wiping at her tears. “I’m just a dork.”

“No, there’s something.  Otherwise you wouldn’t be crying,” I said.

Then she laughed, hiccupped, and I felt relief surge through me.

“These are actually tears of relief and joy,” she said. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.  But until right now, I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.  Especially over the last couple of months, I began to doubt more and more that you did. Especially after the last twenty-four hours.”

I put a gentle hand on her cheek. “I think that I began to fall in love with you the moment that we met at my grandparent’s house.  Since then it seems like you’re always on my mind.”

She bit her lower lip and I watched her eyes fill with liquid.  Then she giggled and threw herself into me again.  We embraced for a long minute, and she fit perfectly wrapped in my arms!

WORKING AT LAKE

My first couple of weeks working at Lake Produce were spent packing either sprouts or tomatoes. Then one of the warehouse workers suddenly quit, and Lenny decided that he needed me out there rather than one of the packing rooms.  I was glad that I was able to witness one more interesting sprout room moment before I began my new task at Lake Produce.

On this particular day Lenny walked into the sprout room with a white haired sheriff’s deputy following him. Now Lon was a good guy. He was a hard worker, and the type of guy that would give you the shirt of his back. But he was also a daily pot smoker that ventured onto the wrong side of the law.

“You have a visitor,” Lenny said, looking across the room.

Lon turned and faced them. “Yeah?”

Lenny frowned scornfully at Lon.  Lenny was an ultra-conservative right winger, and Lon was an ultra-liberal left winger.  They weren’t exactly best friends with similar life views.

“The Deputy’s not here for you, Lon,” Lenny spit with disgust. “This is Mervin’s dad.”

I felt a grin grow on my face. Lon just naturally assumed the reason a cop was on the premises would be to question or even arrest him.

“Jake, you want to come with me?” Lenny said. “I’m short handed out in the warehouse.”

“Sure,” I replied, glad to try something different than stuffing sprouts into plastic containers. Plus, I was about to become acquainted with a stranger pairing than Lon and Mervin.

Stan was a friendly, mild mannered, yet bold, religious zealot.  Stan was fifty, give or take.  He had a salt and pepper comb over and thick pop bottle glasses.  Jeb was thirty something, five foot six and weighed more than three hundred pounds.  He was like a large human ball.  Jeb was in charge of loading trucks and he was also a devoted redneck.  I never met anyone that used the ‘F word’ more than Jeff.  I even noticed his heavy usage of this particular slang right off the bat when we first met.

“Jake, this is Jeb,” Lenny said. “Jeb, Jake.”

“How the F are ya?” Jeb asked, giving me a firm handshake.

“Good, nice to meet you,” I said.

“Stan, Jake. Jake, Stan,” Lenny said.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Stan said, offering me firm handshake with big toothy smile.

“Nice to meet you, Stan,” I said.

“Praise God,” Stan said.

I suppose Stan and Jeb got along well enough, but I quickly learned that there was an odd dynamic between them.  Jeb used at least one, often two, F bombs per sentence.  It appeared that Stan counteracted Jeb’s cursing with religious phrases.  Every time that Jeb swore, Stan would usually say praise God.  If Jeb took The Lord’s name in vain, Stan would not only counter it with a double praise God, but he would actually rebuke Jeb.  Believe or not Jeb took it well and fortunately rarely said The Lord’s name in vain. Stan was also known to burst forth in song at any given moment.  He would often sing a hymn at the top of his lungs.

There were countless memorable days at Lake Produce Incorporated, and Stan provided me with one of the most memorable days.  It was several months after we had first met and one of Lenny’s drivers quit on the spot without giving any notice. So Lenny had Stan fill in on the vacated route, and he had me go along with Stan to learn the route.

There were two things in particular that happened that day that I will never forget.  The first thing that happened was in Washington, Iowa.  We drove down a back alley to make a delivery to a restaurant.  All of Lake’s trucks had refrigeration units.  These units were mounted at the front of the cargo box.  They were powered by little diesel pony motors.  These little engines had two speeds.  They would run fast when they were cooling, but when they got down to the desired temperature, they would kick down to an idle.  The particular truck that Stan and I had that day smoked a lot when it ran fast.

So we were parked in the back ally and opened the rear door to make the delivery.  After the door was open for a minute or two and most of the cold air had escaped, the refer engine kicked on high to cool it back down.  When the engine kicked back on high, a lot of thick, black smoke belched forth, especially the first minute or two when it went from low to high.

Stan and I took several two wheel cart loads of produce into the restaurant.  Then Stan went up front to get a check and I took our two wheel carts to the truck.  When I went outside, a fire truck was coming up the alley behind our truck.  I signaled to the firemen that I would move the truck out of the alley.  When I went to move it, another fire truck came at me from the other direction.  I got out of the truck and ran up to a fire fighter to see where they wanted me to go.

“You mean your truck isn’t on fire?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, puzzled.

“We got a call telling us that there was a truck on fire in this alley,” he said.

“No,” I said, pointing at the refer unit. “When that thing kicks on, it smokes a lot.”

The fireman and his colleagues started laughing.

“So I guess you don’t want us to stick our hose down it then?” he asked.

“I don’t know, maybe you should,” I replied, laughing.

It was a couple hours later in Mount Pleasant Iowa.  Stan was lost and also trying to look at invoices as he drove.  He was coming up fast on a stop sign. Before I could warn him, he zipped right through it.

“Stan!” I shouted as we rolled through the intersection.

“Oh, no!” Stan declared.

Fortunately there were no other vehicles around.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” Stan said with deep remorse.

“No big deal,” I said. “Nothing happened.”

“No, it is a big deal,” Stan said. “If other people were around, it could have been bad.”

Five minutes later we pulled up in front of the police station.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, frowning.

“I’m turning myself in,” Stan replied.

“For running that stop sign?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“But no one was even around, and you weren’t going very fast.”

“That’s beside the point. I broke the law, and I need to pay my debt to society.”

I sat in the truck dumbfounded as Stan walked toward the police station. Then I realized that I had to see this. I hopped out and jogged up behind Stan.

“Can I help you?” a middle aged dispatch lady asked us as we entered the building.

“Yes,” Stan replied. “I’d like to turn myself in for running a stop sign.”

“You ran a stop sign?” she asked casually.

“Yes, about ten minutes ago,” Stan answered. “I wasn’t paying attention and I ran the stop sign at second avenue and forth street.”

“Let me get an officer,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Two officers returned with her.  One of them had sergeant strips, and he was the one who spoke to Stan.  Stan repeated what he told the dispatch lady.  The two officers looked at each other, both of their mouths twitched with suppressed grins.  I wondered if they were contemplating a drug search.

“Well,” the sergeant began. “Thank you for your honesty.  It seems that you learned a lesson, though.  I think that we can let you go with a warning.”

“Thank you,” Stan said.

“You’re welcome,” the sergeant replied.

“Praise God,” Stan said.

“Yes,” the sergeant said.

“God bless you,” Stan said.

“Have a nice day,” the sergeant said. “Be safe.”

Once we were back in the truck and on our way, Stan began belting out a hymn with as much gusto as an opera singer.