Life Lines

15: Not A Serial Killer

Dreama was right so far. Union was a nice guy.

"As long as we have an understanding that there won't be any making out, I won't be uncomfortable."

"Understood."

So we got out, my feet hitting packed dirt softly. At least this night would be interesting. It sure had started off with a bang. I slowly made my way to the rear of the vehicle and by then he had the tailgate down.

"Here." He handed me a thin canvas bag. "Take this for a second."

"What's it for?"

There was a cord at the top to hold it closed, the whole thing resembling a lumpy tube with what felt like rods inside.

"Something that will make this all a little less awkward."

He placed another on the end of the tailgate and hopped down. I watched him undo his and pull out a familiar looking canvas chair. They were popular for avid golf fans since they were considered light weight and easy to collapse and carry to the next hole without too much trouble.

"Should I even ask why you have these?"

"Sure." He planted the chair and motioned for me to have a seat. "Like you might've guessed, I'm a golf fan."

"I did know that."

He unfolded the chair I handed him and placed it down next to me. It looked like we were tailgating minus the portable grill, burgers, and hot dogs. Not to mention the sporting gear. I sat, brushing at my dress even though I didn't need to.

"Anyways, I used to go to a lot of the tournaments until other things started to get in the way. That's how I knew who your dad was."

He brought around the picnic basket and placed it in between the chairs.

"So your parents just let you travel all around the country?"

He sat down and looked at me, a little winded after all that running around.

"For the most part. My father and I used to do it a lot during the summers when I was a kid. As long as my grades stayed in the A/B range, I was allowed to do it on my own as I got older. Actually," he turned to face me while handing me a plastic container, "I think I saw you once."

It didn't surprise me. My mother and I would fly out a lot when I was a kid and she wasn't feeling too horrible from her treatments. She used to tell me that we were a family and it didn't matter where we were just as long as we were together...

I frowned and cracked the lid. "This smells so...good. What is it?"

He laughed. "You don't stay on subject long, do you?" The lid I'd been holding was plucked from my hand, a fork replacing it. "It's a sausage and rice family recipe. You don't have any food allergies, do you?"

"No. Why? Did you throw something not normal in here?" I looked it over the best that I could. "Is that why it smells so good?"

That made him laugh harder. It was a good thing he hadn't started eating yet.

"Everything in there is natural." He continued to chuckle. "This was actually what my parents were having for dinner tonight. I just stole some."

"So your momma cooked this?"

He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, much like the city lights behind him in the distance. "Yes and you know, your accent isn't as thick as I thought it would be."

"That's because I'm technically not completely southern."

"Really?" He finished chewing before continuing. "I find that unbelievable. You fit the persona very well."

"My mother was from a little town in Texas called Natalia. It's about a four hour drive up the I-10 from a certain golf course." I chuckled. "Her and her friends were bored one weekend which just happened to be the same weekend they had the tournament. As my father tells it he was eyeing the lay of the fifteenth hole when he spotted this very out of place girl across the fairway. He said she was wearing all the wrong clothes all the way down to her shoes. He took a bogey just so he could talk to her."

His food for the moment was forgotten as he watched me tell my tale.

"So how did they end up here?"

"My father's family is from here. My mother didn't have any family left so they settled here. My grandfather was actually the one who gave me my first set of golf clubs."

"Well you are carrying on the family tradition beautifully."

I didn't say anything in response and we both lapsed into silence as we ate our dinner. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence and I realized that so far on this date, there wasn't any awkwardness. At least not on my part anyway.

Where we were sitting, I could hear the crickets in the woods, even an owl or two. Right behind Union was, of course, the make out spot which just happened to be a cliff as well. When I was a kid, I could remember my uncle coming over for Sunday dinner and telling us about the numerous couples they'd chased away from this place all week. For one instance I remember my mother blushing and turning her face away. As I look back on it now, it made me wonder if my own parents were one of those couples that week.

"What about you?" I asked before eating another bite.

"Well, I've lived in Maine since I can remember. My parents met when they were in college, not as romantic as how yours met. Now, here I am, a Northern transplant, still trying to get passed the y'alls, people calling me bubba, and how every single person seems to have sweet tea in their veins."

That had to be the funniest thing I'd ever heard.

 "I take it you're still getting used to southern hospitality."

"You were definitely right when you said it takes a little getting used to."

"But you've found something you like, right? It's not all bad?"

He finished eating without answering my question and I was starting to think I'd said something wrong. The rice suddenly felt dry in my mouth, the spicy yumminess turning to a taste similar to powder. The feeling that I'd misconstrued everything started filling me up slowly making my head spin just a little.

"It's a new place," he said softly. "There are pluses and minuses just like everywhere else. The company this evening just happens to be one of the pluses."

The panic died out instantly, the idea that I was just being used to get under someone else's skin disappeared with it. I was able to take a deep breath and relax back to where I was before he paused.

Only problem was the food still tasted like sand.