I tell her I barely made it through tenth grade because I spent most of my time on the streets in an effort to escape my foster homes.I finally escaped the system.I didn’t get my GED until I was twenty-four.
And I’m damn proud of it, too.
That’s the half I tell her, anyway.I don’t tell Phyllis the rest.I don’t tellanyonethe rest of my story.I can’t even utter the words in my mind, let alone speak them aloud.I have no interest in dredging up my past.It will always be a part of me, but I control how often I think of it and how much I let it bother me.
And I’ve become very good at beating it down until it’s a small, smashed-up thing, all the sharp edges worn down from the pounding.The pain has been dull for a long time now, lurking in the background in the shadows.These days, it’s more of a sour taste in my mouth instead of the tangy, metallic taste of blood on my teeth.
I want it that way.
I go ahead and let Phyllis think I was a bad student and that’s why I dropped out of school.Most people jump to that conclusion anyway, and it’s easier to let them.It’s simpler to let them think I’m dumb than to go explain why I chose the Reno streets instead of my bed.
“Clark,” Phyllis says, rolling my last name around in her mouth as she sets the table with our lunch.“I don’t think I know any other Clarks.”
I shrug.“Neither do I.”She seems to consider that a moment.I take a bite of the sandwich and groan.“Wow, this is delicious,” I say.And heavens, is it ever.
“It should be.The MacLaines have been raising organic pork before anyone told them that was what they were doing.Yosemite Ranch makes its living off of cattle and horses, but the women of this family have always raised pork, chickens, and turkeys on the side to keep their bellies filled with something besides steak and pot roast.”
Summer comes in and breaks out into a huge smile when she sees me.“Are you giving Emma a history lesson on the ranch?I heard you got pulled pork, so I got my butt over here as soon as I could get away.”
Phyllis looks down at Summer’s feet.
“Don’t worry.I kicked off my boots before I stepped into the house, like always.”Summer wiggles her toes beneath her dirty socks.She washes her hands in the sink, sits at the table, and begins to put together her own sandwich.
I met Summer at the wedding two days ago, but we haven’t spoken since.She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met.She has complete self-confidence.No doubt.No fear.And she seems happy in an everyday sort of way, like she’s living exactly the life she was born to live.
“What’re we talking about, really?”Summer asks with her mouth full.
“Pork,” I say at the exact same time Phyllis says, “Emma’s past.”
“Both of those sound boring.No offense, Emma,” Summer says, wiping juice off her chin.“Let’s talk about something exciting.Like sports or cars.”
“I don’t know anything about sports or cars,” I tell her.
Phyllis puts her hands up in surrender.“Don’t look at me.My sport of choice is crotchet, and I’m perfectly happy with my Toyota Tercel.”
“I kind of like miniature golf,” I tell her.“I’ve never had a car, though.Actually, I don’t know how to drive.”
Summer drops her sandwich onto her plate.“Get out of here,” she says.“You mean you don’t have a driver’s license, or that you don’t actually knowhowto drive?”
“I’ve never sat in a driver’s seat.Not once.”
“Shut the fuck up!”She reaches over and punches my shoulder.
“Language, young lady,” Phyllis warns.
Summer ignores her, and I rub my arm.I’m definitely going to get a bruise.Summer’s even stronger than I am.
“I’m going to teach you to drive.”Summer announces her plan and leans back in her chair, nodding.“Yes, ma’am.That’s exactly what we’re going to do today.”
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“What?”she screeches.“It’s a great idea!I learned to drive before my feet reached the pedals.I can teach you, no problem.Finally, something interesting on this ranch.”
“It won’t be interesting when I crash into a fence or I run over an innocent bystander.”
“Hurry up and eat.We can start right away on my truck.”
“Truck?”
