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Cornfields

By Jen Zeni

The wind ran it's icy hands through her hair, like a lover with awkward fingers, unused to having so much hair to push it's way through, but tenderly, as if it was trying not to hurt her. She walked through its gentle embrace, holding the plastic shopping bags tightly in her thin hands, the hands he had complemented when they first met and which their child loved to cling to and play with. She was worried that the bottoms of the thin bags would give way, and that the milk and eggs and the giant red bell peppers, which were Marisa's favorite food when they were perfect, but which she would not touch if they were bruised, would fall out and be ruined before she got home. She quickened her pace and began glancing at the golden watch on her wrist, an anniversary present from Dave the week before. Seven years, and she could still remember how he had brushed her hair out of the way the first time they kissed.

She felt something tugging on the sleeve of her jean jacket. Glancing down, she saw a small brown hand and a pair of big dark eyes looking up into hers.

"Excuse me ma'am, would you like to buy a chocolate bar, they're to raise money for a school trip to Spain. It's one dollar for one or two dollars for three." Lindsay started to shake her head, meaning to say no. She couldn't afford to buy chocolate bars. But then she looked again into the child's eyes.

Spain, she thought. She had never been to Spain, she wondered if in Spain there were small hands with Dark eyes that grabbed you and sold candy for a trip to America. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, Lindsay pulled out a handful of coins and counted out a dollar in dimes and pennies and nickels. "Here you go," she said, roughly shoving the coins between the delicate fingers.

It was almost five. She wished they could afford a second car, it was hard to make it home in time when there were always such long lines in the Safeway. She took a bite of her chocolate bar. It had been a long time since David had bought her chocolates in a heart shaped box for Valentine's Day, the last time had been the day after Marisa was born. Maybe she should save the chocolate for the children; they so rarely had sweets. She wished there was enough money for her to stay home with them, or just to hire a full time nanny. Someone to read Peter Rabbit, someone she could talk to while she was waiting for David to get home. They could get a futon and put her up in the little room coming off the children's, which was too small to use as a normal bedroom but too big to be just a closet. Besides, they couldn't afford enough clothes to fill it. She would suggest the idea to Dave when he came home, if he wasn't too tired to talk tonight. He was usually too tired to talk, but maybe tonight he wouldn't be. Or maybe tomorrow; it didn't matter; she could walk for now.

A red truck drove past her, one of the headlights bashed in and the bumper bent slightly. It honked at her and she looked up, and put down her shopping to wave at the man in the truck. He pulled over and rolled down the window. His hair was speckled with gray and his face was well worn, but kindly. It was the healthy brown color of a man who has worked most of his life outside under the sun, and whose mother had never told him to wear sunscreen. The corners of the thin, chapped lips turned up into a smile, which brought a sparkle into his friendly gray blue eyes. She felt her face relaxing as she smiled back.

"Need a ride Linds?" he asked kindly, and she began shaking her head automatically, thinking of what David would say if he found out she had accepted a ride home, it would hurt his pride. But David wouldn't know unless she told him.

"Yes please Tom, if you wouldn't mind. The children will be dropped off home in ten minutes, and though I don't mind the walk, I don't think I could make it there in time."

"It's no problem at all, in fact I'll be glad of the company." He hopped out of the truck as easily as if he were still only a boy and went around to open Lindsay's door for her. She let him help her up and adjusted her shopping around her as he climbed up himself and started the engine.

"So how's Sarah, Tom?" Lindsay asked, "And how are Walter and Alice?"

"They're doing real good Linds, Alice can walk real well now, almost like she was born walking. And Walter's getting good grades in school. His teachers all say he's really smart and works really hard. He's started being interested in poetry. It drives me crazy, I can't afford to have my son be a poet, but it makes his mother happy. And after Jed died there's been so little to make her happy that I can't begrudge her her son being a poet." They were silent for a few moments. She couldn't tell what he was thinking about, though they had grown up together Lindsay still couldn't read this man, but some rush of feeling she couldn't put a name on made her want to cover his callused hand with hers. After a while he continued, "So how are you doing Linds, we hardly see you and David around anymore, we've begun to worry about you. You should stop by and visit us sometime, Sarah would enjoy having you, and the children always did get on real well."

"Thanks Tom, you better be careful because I'm sure to take you up on that sometime." They both laughed as if they were children and the young green frog Tom had caught in his hands had escaped and they were chasing it through the tall stalks of corn that lined the way home.

They rounded a corner, and Lindsay saw her house draw into view, white with a red front door and window frames. She noticed that the paint around the door was beginning to chip. Tom pulled up by the picket fence and went around to help her and her shopping out of the truck. He didn't need to do that, but Tom loved to play the gentleman. She remembered him when he'd first got the truck, stopping by her house and opening the door to help her into it, his young smooth face beaming with pride that he had saved up the money to buy it himself, that it was his very own. He helped her out of this very same truck now, some 12 years later, and she thanked him before opening the gate and walking into the house. As she put the groceries down on the tile counter in the kitchen, she could hear the dust clouds rising into the air and settling on the leaves of the corn as the red truck vanished down the road.

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