Strange Yarns

The Corn Field

Whenever we encountered a problem or were lost in the past he would laugh, shrug, and instill confidence that being lost is part of the fun. That was not his attitude now. He wanted this grotto to break the repetition of corn, sun, and scratches. The angry kisses were getting to him too.

"Just a bit further. Fuck! These things itch"

"Just chill, Stevo, it's all part of the adventure." I mocked.

"You're right, man.  That cool waterfall will be all the more refreshing because we'll have earned it, right Gale?"

#

I continued my whining. It was my inside joke with myself. See I can play too.  Every little complaint itched Stevo more than the corn leaves.

"Who told you about this place again? Because, um, seems to me like it was probably some other farmer who wanted us to trample his competitions crop." Gale and Stevo ignored me, but I kept finding it funnier,  "No, No, this is a fantastic way to spend our last weekend. It will be so worth it to tell the story of how we got rashes from a bunch of corn stalks. People will be so jealous."

Stevo stopped and clenched his fists. He turned around and approached me fast. He took my shoulders. I thought he would shake me or slap me, but he kissed me on the cheek.

"We'll get their, grump. Lighten up" Then he jogged back to his place as leader and called Gale to his side to further discuss their imaginary band they would never actually put together.

#

I was against this from the beginning, but even I had to admit that a refreshing swim would really hit the spot at this point. Our arms were raw from brushing against the corn and the grotto remained elusive. The cornrows spread out in perfect symmetry in every direction. Look down any row and the pillars went on to eternity. It reminded me of looking at mirror through a mirror in an elevator... endless. The sun beat on our heads, relentless.

We hadn't spoken for... had it been hours? Gale began to sing Daydream Believer to break the tension. Stevo turned his head, smiled and began to sing with her, doing his best Davey Jones. Gale turned to me, walking backwards...

"Come on Greg, take it away." She coaxed.

I half wanted to sing. To join in, but instead I just said, "Are we going to turn around at any point or are we going to keep wondering aimless in this fucking corn." That ended the song quick enough. Good riddance, is there anything more annoying than the Monkeys?

We walked another minute in silence when Stevo stopped and turned to me, "Do you have a problem with me, Greg?"

He had never taken that tone with me before. Since grade three, when we first met, he was always looking out for me. I was the kid sitting alone at lunch and then Stevo invited me to play handball. He made sure I was included. I've been a pissy sot my whole life, but he never minded. He was a man of infinite patience, but not today.

I wanted to apologize and blame my crankiness on the heat, upcoming school stress, and being lost, but I didn't.

"Problem with you? Who could ever have a problem with The Great Steven Saunders?

It got weird. Gale stood between us. She sized us up, then cooled us down as women have cooled down apes for eons, "Why don't we have our picnic here. We've been walking for a while and blood sugars are running low." The wise words of a kinesiology major. I was starving.

We sat down and chowed on the salami sandwiches on challah and the cubed watermelon in the Tupperware. Stevo cracked open three warm beers, "I thought we could have cooled them in the water."