Big Man For Christmas

I lost him in the crowd after that. And I was mobbed with other friends and couldn’t go after him. I haven’t seen him since. Not even in the times that I’ve come back to visit.

Of course, I have other memories of Casey. A time that was far more worth remembering. That same year on the night of the fireworks. We’d stumbled into the woods together, flushed and desperate. Our clothes were in the way, but it was so cold that we didn’t dare take them off all the way. But it was enough.

Casey was my first, and though everyone has stories about awful first times, mine was amazing. It felt like our bodies were made for each other, and by some miracle, he made me see fireworks just as bright as the ones that were booming above our heads.

It was just that after…I saw the condom when he threw it away. It was broken. The same dread pools in my stomach that I felt that night. I was so afraid that I hadn’t been able to look at him after. The last thing I wanted was to be pregnant and trapped in Elgin. Forced to get married too young like Jessica, who was already married to Rhett.

And they never really left. Jess and her husband don’t live in Elgin, but they’re only twenty minutes up the highway. Crashing at my parents’ house during the Christmas holiday is a tradition they started after their first son was born, and it never stopped. Given the number of toys and clothes I saw in my parents’ house, I have no doubt that it’s evolved into more than just Christmas.

Of course, my sister has managed to turn our parents into free childcare. But I’m sure my mom doesn’t mind. Jessica is her baby. And she loves her grandchildren.

Tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to be so cynical about my family. I love them—I really do. But it hurts to see them not support me. To think that I am somehow to blame for my entire world being dumped on my head.

They are so adamant about it, I have to ask myself if I am being too stubborn over it. Was there something I could have done better? To be more exciting for Tyler? But I’ve gone down this path of thoughts before, and there is nothing. I genuinely loved our quiet life. And until four days ago I thought that he did too.

Music tickles my ears. What is that?

Was that…the “1812 Overture?” What the hell?

I follow my ears and the music gets louder. It’s coming from the Bowman’s barn, and it is not quiet. This is the first I’ve ever heard of playing classical music for cattle, unless there’s something completely different going on.

The door to the barn is open, and covering my ears, I head inside. I am not nearly prepared for what I see.4CaseyFuck, it’s hot in this barn. I know that it has to be, but the heaters worked a little overtime this morning. It’s not quite as cold as I anticipated and so I had them up too high. I’ve taken off my shirt while I work, and I’m still sweating what feels like buckets.

I’m feeding the cows while they listen to the music. Might as well. Though it’s at a volume now that’s nearly unbearable. I can still hear the damn song through ear plugs and noise cancelling earmuffs.

The woman by my side with her fingers in her ears makes me jump out of my skin. That is the thing about the headphones and the music. You have no idea if someone is sneaking up on you. I swear, I nearly toss the pitchfork I was using.

Taking a closer look, my stomach drops. It’s the center of all the gossip, in the flesh. Carley Farrell really is back in town, and she’s in my barn, looking amused. And also staring at my bare chest. That part I don’t mind so much. But if I am going to hear her at all, we am going outside, and I’m not crazy.

I pull on my shirt and coat and nod toward the doors, and when we’re out, I pull the door shut behind us, so the music isn’t pouring out at the same volume. Carley is laughing when I take off my ear muffs and ear plugs. “What in the hell, Casey? What…just—why?”

“For fun,” I say, laughing. I can’t imagine how this must look for someone just stumbling across it. It’s not every day you see what looks like a man trying to teach his cows appreciation of classical music.

She narrows her eyes. “Really?”

“No, it’s actually for the fireworks night.”

“Oh,” Carley says, staring behind me at the barn. I can see her still trying to put it all together. Her face is easy to read, and I smile when she looks at me and says, “I still don’t get it.”