Loving Life

Chapter 15: Mattie

My route wasn't all that long and I am breathing heavily, my shirt sticking to my skin. Now back, I totally forgot to think about the problem I left behind. Instead, I thought about, I'm dying, turn around now.... Something pushed me to continue. Barely.

            There is a water spigot next to the barn, and figuring I will look like I had major hot flashes all night, my teeth form a barrier to keep my screams in as I toss a bucket of ice cold water down my back. I run back to the house, shaking with cold. That's right. The doors are all locked. I try all the windows. On my last attempt, my hope is completely drained. Even so, I push up, and miraculously, it opens. The surprise knocks me to the ground. I get up hastily and push it open further, enough for me to wiggle inside.

            Once in, I sigh with relief and climb the stairs, skipping the ones that are creaky. I grab a towel to dry myself, hop back into my pajamas, and the comforts of my warm bed. Clothing dark with sweat and water litters the floor. Surely Dianne will wake me and become curious at the clothing that wasn't there that now is. I am too tired to care, and before I know it, I am snoring myself.

Warm hands. Blueberry muffins and cinnamon. These senses flood me and wake me when I feel like I had just fallen asleep. Dianne sits next to me, flour coating the bottom half of her apron.

            I peer at her through bleak eyes. "Breakfast is ready if you want to get dressed," she says, getting up to let me dress.

            "Thanks," I mutter. But it's still dark out. When the door closes, I push the covers back and sit on the edge for a moment, groaning. The clothes I left on the floor are gone. Frowning, I put on some shorts and a shirt, the sleeves ending at my elbows. I throw my hair in a messy bun and look at myself in the mirror. Purple bags show how much sleep I have been receiving. My face is pale. What I need is some eyeshadow, eyeliner, foundation, and some sleep. Whatever. No matter how fat I feel, I am not doing that again.

            I do it the next night anyway.

            Just when I slip into my regular seat, Dianne comes out of the mudroom holding a pair of gum boots caked in dried manure.

            "You think we eat and then feed cattle?" She drops the boots by my feet and spins toward the door without a backward glance. "You got it all wrong sweetheart."

Stinky. Disgusting. Smelly. Stuffy. Warm milk and manure. Qualities the barn possesses. And I don't enjoy them one bit. Lights seeming to illuminate the manure-spattered walls doesn't help. If it were sunlight instead of artificial light might help. Dianne notices me reeling back and laughs.

            "Get used to it, honey. You've still gotta feed 'em tonight, tomorrow morning, that night, the next day, and so on. Plus you've gotta feed them horses and milk the cows. Trust me. When we go to the fair next year, it won't be much better. Grab those buckets and follow me." She points to two, five-gallon buckets sitting in a corner.

            I can't even pick up one. Again, Dianne notices me struggling, empties what is left in her buckets, and comes to my rescue. While she grabs one side with ease, I grab the other with some difficulty, considering she is taking most of the weight.

            "Don't worry. You'll earn your farm muscles soon," she reassures me as we follow the dirt path toward the feed bunk.

            Besides that small comment, talk is small, which seems odd. Then, Dianne asks out of nowhere, "Do you even love Ervin?"

            Her question shocks me, but I don't show my surprise. After a few thoughtful seconds, I choose my words carefully. "I don't love him. I like him. As a friend, that's all." Out of the corner of my eye, Dianne smiles. Even I know that is more than a white lie.

            Cows fill every stall in the barn. It's loud, stuffy, and weird-smelling. There are these machines hooked up to the sides of each cow. Dianne reaches up, grabs the machine, and sets it on a bar, grabbing a long tube with four smaller tubes off that. She motions for me to also get down.

            "Gently cup the teat cups in your hand. That's what these are called." She wiggles one. "Line each one up with one teat. That's what the fingers are. With your other hand, guide it up onto the teat, and the suction should help a little with that. Now you try."

            We move to the next cow. She sets up the machine and hands me the thing. All that runs through my mind is, how many germs are on there? I pick it up with two fingers and set it in my palm. My grip isn't strong enough that when I put it on the cow, I drop it. I am afraid that the noise scares the cow, and he will kick me.

            He doesn't.

            Dianne is smirking. "Gotta have that tight grip. Try again." This time, I manage to get two on, but I fumble with the third and it falls off again. I curse under my breath.

            "Once more."

            That phrase—third time's a charm—is true. I get all four on! Dianne high-fives me, and I high-five her back. We move onto the next cow, and by the fifth one, I am slipping them on like I've been doing this for years.

            I just have to wash my hands and layer on the sanitizer.

*

An hour later, all fifty cattle are milked. The beautiful Oklahoma sun paints the sky with its oranges and reds, highlighting the clouds pink. I can't stop and gawk; Dianne continues to walk to the barn housing the horses. The sun was never like this in the city. What have I been missing my entire life?

            Once inside, we find the halters and lead ropes, attaching them to the horses and leading them to their pasture. While they graze, they give us a chance to clean the stalls. Dianne says she didn't have time the other day, but I know otherwise. I nearly vomited three times in the half hour we spend cleaning out droppings from the twelve stalls.

            Ervin doesn't answer my Facetime request later that morning, which worries me slightly. Deep down, I know I shouldn't worry. He might be out doing whatever guys do at nine thirty in the morning. I also know I shouldn't have such a grasp on his life. So when Dianne comes in my room that night, I have a chance to forget my worries.