Becki at least gives me the dignity of an answer, although I can tell she’s trying to suppress a grimace, probably at the whole brilliant put your personal life out there for people to judge just to make a buck notion I just suggested like a real butthole.
“Maybe,” she just answers sweetly with a demure smile. “Anyway, thanks for the wrap. It was amazing. Better than anything I’ve ever made. If you ever want to stop making motorhomes, you should consider becoming a chef or something.”
“Hard pass. I hate cooking.”
“Never say never.”
I want to keep pressing her to tell me what keeps her going because there’s something in me that wants to know. And I don’t know if it’s just curiosity.
It has to be Becki because she’s Becki, and I’m learning she doesn’t do anything without reason, and she’s always straightforward whenever anyone asks her something, which is so deliciously refreshing—like a zesty lime in a cold glass of beer on a sweltering hot day—that it’s no wonder I can’t help but be enthralled with her.
Maybe this means my crotch gets some slack cut for also not being able to help being captivated.
“This wasn’t what I planned on doing with my life. I am actually a teacher. I bet you’re surprised now. I could teach, but I moved out here before I graduated, as you know, and I had the inspiration that I should be doing this. I still finished my studies, but this was what felt right. I love being on the farm, and I have a lot of great memories here, even though Great Aunt May never had any animals except this toy poodle who passed away a few years before she did. She was heartbroken without him, and she never wanted another dog. I just feel…I feel right here. I don’t need much of a social life, and I was also never into partying. Anything else?” She laughs nervously and flushes deeply, and by that, I think she means dating. I’m right because she goes on. “I don’t know who could ever put up with me, and that’s even before I started this. I’d like to think I have an old soul, but maybe it’s more of a strange soul. Or a lost soul? I don’t know how to phrase that.”
“A teacher? I have to say, I’m surprised. I thought your degree would be in something business-related, considering all the things you know how to do.”
“Nope. I just learned those along the way. Believe me, what I can do is barely passable. My tax knowledge comes from my teacher, who taught my class how to do a mock tax return in grade twelve math.”
“That’s really impressive.”
“I never thought so, but if you went through it and found no errors, then I guess maybe it is.”
I want to tell her that her shoveling poo, doing physical therapy with animals, getting them to come out of their shell, getting up at five every morning and staying out until dark every night, growing her own food, and looking after an entire place by herself and all it entails is also impressive, but I hope she can read it on my face.
However, I hope she can’t read the fact that I think other parts of her are also very impressive—parts I should not even be thinking about. Her breasts, for one. And her bottom, which even in baggy overalls, is quite stellar. I’ve also decided that her face and the biceps sticking out of the tank top she has on under those overalls are works of art.
I think Becki could probably take me down if she wanted to. And I wasn’t kidding about her beating me at arm wrestling.
“I guess this matters to me—a lot. Once you start seeing how the things you do make a difference—how a warm place to sleep, a full belly, a lot of space outside, and a ton of love make a difference—it’s pretty intoxicating. Not that I want to get high on myself. That’s not what I mean. I guess that’s why it’s hard for me to talk about it because I feel like I’m bragging or something, and I don’t like doing that. I’m just talking about change. The difference that safety and love can make. When you see another life, and they can’t help not being born a person and aren’t considered important and don’t have the same rights as we do…when that life goes from broken and untrusting and abused in every way to this shining, happy, and playful life living out its best life…that’s what I mean about intoxicating. I guess I’m using that word in place of all the others it would take.”
“I can see how you would have been a great teacher,” I say breathlessly. Becki is truly fantastic and amazing. She’s one of a kind, and she’s glowing underneath all those dirt streaks and sweat and grime.