Larry Goes To Space (7 page)

Larry parked the tractor under the lean-to awning attached to the barn. He went to the only occupied stall.

“Dollar, I gotta pasture you for a bit. I doubt if you mind much. I’ll tell Dad to look in on you.” He led the horse through the gate to one of the front steer pastures, stripped off the horse’s halter, and closed the gate behind him.

Dollar looked at Larry for a bit, dropped and rolled in the dirt, shaking off the stink of the barn. He grabbed a mouthful of fresh green grass and trotted off away from the house. He was young and free on the open prairie. All thought of Larry was gone from Dollar’s mind before Larry reached the house.

Larry stopped in the kitchen on his way through the house. He probably ought to make himself a steak or something. He could pull something out of the freezer. It might be a while before he got meat again, if ever. He had all night long, so he might as well make a feast of it. He pulled the biggest porterhouse steak out of the freezer he could find. He tossed it into the microwave, setting it to thaw.

Larry wanted to get right to packing, but that wouldn’t take too long. He also wanted to phone his Dad, but there was daylight left. Dad would still be in his fields. Mom would be there, but she would be right in the middle of fixing supper for Dad and his grandparents.

He sighed and set about washing the dishes. It didn’t take long to get through the breakfast dishes. He sighed again and started on last night’s supper dishes. He wouldn’t have time to get everything on the farm in tip-top condition before leaving, but he decided to clean the house up a bit. He might have to dust the vacuum cleaner before using it, but he thought it still worked.

His house cleaning skills were exactly like the maid service at a five-star hotel, except he wasn’t good at cleaning, he wasn’t thorough, he wasn’t fast, and he sure wasn’t pleasant as he did it.

He put his bedsheets in the washing machine just as the phone rang. He decided he might as well sleep on clean sheets for his last night on Earth. He was chuckling at the thought of it being his last night as he picked up the phone receiver.

“What are you doing in the house before the sun sets?” Dad said as a way of greeting.

“Working harder than you, old man,” Larry replied. “I don’t have a wife and a mother in the house to do the dishes and laundry, like some layabouts.”

“Laundry, my Aunt Aggie’s aching ass,” Dad said.

Larry held the receiver out toward the washing machine as it clunked and rocked back and forth, as it usually did. Larry had long ago decided the machine had been a disco dancer in a previous life. No matter how perfectly balanced the loads were, the machine gyrated like a pole dancer fighting a bad case of the itchy, creepy crawlies. Even an empty load of water set the machine to dancing and vibrating. Nancy had seemed to like it; at least he always, always, always had clean clothes until she left. The machine seemed to miss Nancy more than Larry did, or it had gotten louder at any rate.

“What does that sound like, Dad?”

There was a bit of silence. “Well, it does sound like a butt-load of ball bearings bouncing in the back of a broken, blue Buick. Or it is that old washer you got.”

“Nice alliteration, Dad.” Larry said. He smiled to himself. His parents always said that just because they work the land did not mean that they did not need to work their minds. “So, what’s up on the old homestead? Are Grandma and Grandpa all right?”

“Well, that would depend—”

Larry and his father finished together, “—on your definition of all right.”

“I’m glad you called, Dad,” Larry said. “I’ve got a problem that I hope you can help me with.”

“And I you,” Dad said. “I would’ve called one of your brothers or sisters, but you are—”

Larry and his father finished together, “—an only child.”

Larry laughed. “Listen, Henny Youngman, you need to get some new material. Can you stop by and check on the place for me over the next couple of weeks? I’ve got an emergency and I’ve got to go out of town.”

There was silence on the phone. “Are you in trouble? Can I help?”

He couldn’t tell his father that he was planning to leave the planet and might not ever come back. Dad wouldn’t understand. Dad would tell Mom if he knew. Mom didn’t believe in UFOs or aliens and would certainly not understand. She would tell Grandma. Grandma would call the police and have him locked up. No one would tell Grandpa because he didn’t understand much of anything anymore since his last stroke.

Larry said, “I’m okay, Dad. The emergency isn’t mine, but some friends of mine. They need help and I volunteered to give them a hand. It’ll be fine, Dad. It’s nothing illegal or immoral, or even fattening for that matter.”

“Did these friends of yours come help you last spring with your round up or when you needed to medicate every last breeding cow you have on the place?”

Larry sighed. “No. They did not. Dad, being a friend is not about how they treat you, but about how you treat them. You know who taught me that?”

Larry stretched the receiver cord across the kitchen to give the washer a swift kick, hoping it would quiet down enough so he could hear his father better. It didn’t, but then washers were known to be that way when confronted by corporal punishment.

Dad said, “I know it wasn’t me that taught that. I’ve never said such foolishness in my life.”

“No. It wasn’t you. It was Grandpa and he raised you the same way you taught me, so don’t you go all twitchy on me. Now, I don’t have much time since I have to leave in the morning, but what can I help you with?

“Serendipity, son,” Dad said.

Larry’s father liked to find the good in things. He loved it when things came together of their own accord. Mom always said it was God’s willing hand, but Dad was fond of serendipity. It was serendipity when you wanted apple pie for supper and Grandma made pies for the church bake sale with one pie left over for you. It was serendipity when the neighbor’s bull got loose just as your cow went into heat. It was serendipity when your car broke down just as the corn crop came in and your mechanic had a hankering for a mess of corn on the cob.

Dad continued, “Your cousin Gary Junior is in a jam.”

Larry wanted to say something. Everything with Aunt Nola and her kids went into the crapper the day they found out about Uncle Gary’s other wife and family. He held his tongue. Dad was extremely protective of his baby sister Nola and her brood. Mom literally sat on him to keep him from hunting down Gary Senior with his shotgun. Not figuratively, she actually sat on his chest for an hour until he calmed down.

“Of course I’ll do what I can in the time I have left,” Larry said.

“That is the serendipitous thing, son. You don’t need to be here to help. Did you know that Gary Senior gave Gary Junior his house and some acreage as a wedding gift last year? No wait, that doesn’t matter. Anyway, it seems Gary Senior named another of his sons from his other wife after himself, too. So there are two Gary Juniors running around. The other one filed a suit against your cousin, claiming Gary Junior’s place is his since the names all match. A judge issued an injunction against Gary Junior’s place. Lock, stock, and barrel are all held in a receivership until the matter can be settled. He isn’t even allowed to do the hay cutting, and it’s ready to be cut. The court is going to hire someone to cut and sell it. Then they’re going to put the money in a bank and give it to whoever they decide has it coming after this is all settled. And dang his hide if Gary Senior is nowhere to be found to settle it. All he would have to say is which son he gave that place to. I’ll bet you a dollar to a fart in a windstorm that he’s off with wife number three and another Gary Junior.”

Larry wanted to laugh, but his father was upset. Larry could hear people in the background at Dad’s house. Mom was yelling at Dad to watch his language. Grandma was yelling that someone had better come help her with the dishes. Grandpa was yelling because — well, that was just what Grandpa did these days.

“Dad, you couldn’t write this stuff in a novel. People just wouldn’t believe it.”

“Danged if that ain’t the God’s honest truth.”

“So, what do you need?”

“I don’t need a thing, son. But Nola doesn’t have room at her little place for Gary Junior with all of her other kids running around. He came here, but we don’t have room either. I know that we have a three-bedroom place, but your Grandpa can’t sleep in a room with anyone else anymore. So, you see where this is going?

“Yes, sir. Gary Junior is more than welcome to stay at my place. He and his wife…”

“Marcy,” Dad supplied.

“Yeah, my apologies to Marcy. They would be welcome in my home even if I didn’t have to go out of town.”

“I know that, son. So does Gary Junior. He should be able to look after your place while you’re gone. And even tho’ he’s an ignorant dirt farmer like your old man, he does know stock enough to look after your critters. Speaking of that, Ol’ Bucky is here. He was down at the McDonald’s place again. That poodle of theirs is in heat — again. They called me to come get him. You might try to tie him up for a while, or at least keep him in the house a bit. I’ll have Gary and Marcy bring him back when they come over tonight.”

“Tonight?” Larry thought quickly. “Um, tonight might not be good, Dad. Can they stay there until after I leave in the morning?”

“Son, I’m not going to let a pregnant woman sleep on the fold out couch. You have an extra bedroom they can use.” It wasn’t a question, nor did his father phrase it that way.

“Pregnant? You got Mom pregnant again!”

“I should hope to hell not. Marcy is pregnant.”

“Okay, Dad. Send ‘em along. I’ll make do somehow. I gotta go, Dad. I love you and give my love to Mom and Grandma.”

“Grandpa too?”

“Goes without saying, Dad.”

Larry hung up the phone and wondered what to do about Gary and Marcy. No one could see the spacecraft from the house, but a person could probably see the spacecraft if they climbed into the hayloft in the barn and stretched their neck. Not like Bud Wilkins stretched his neck when he hung himself in his barn last winter, but more like a crane or just standing on tippy-toes.

Anyone looking was sure going to see them take off for outer space tomorrow morning. Maybe he would just have to figure something out. Once he was gone, it wouldn’t really matter since any fuss raised would be exactly like buying insurance after the barn burned down, or using a condom after she got pregnant, or for that matter telling the FBI you were going to rob a bank after you got away clean and hid the loot. Done deal and nothing no one could do about it!

He decided not to fix his steak until he knew whether Gary and Marcy had eaten. There was no sense in cooking two meals, although he doubted Mom or Grandma would let anyone out of their house without being so stuffed they had to waddle to their car. He went about straightening up as fast as he could. Not that hurrying made the job any less perfectly done. He wouldn’t have done a better job of vacuuming even if he’d been going slow. He wouldn’t have dusted the corners any more precisely even if he’d been creeping along. He wouldn’t have sorted the rest of his laundry with any more regard to fabric or color than if he had all day to do it.

He was just putting the vacuum away in the hall closet when he heard a car door slam. He looked at his watch and wondered what had taken them so long in coming from his parent’s place. Grandma had probably insisted they stay for another piece of pie. He hoped Grandma had insisted they bring a piece along for him.

“Hello?” a hesitant female voice called through the screen door. Marcy was a short, dark haired young girl barely out of her teens and heavy around the hips like a bowling pin or rather exactly like seventy-five percent of all women over nineteen in farm country. Being pregnant enough to show, just balanced her belly to her hips, giving her a wonderful rounded look, ripe like a peach.

“Hello yourself, Marcy. Come on, girl. Get in the house.” They hugged tentatively like most people recently related by marriage: shoulders in, hips back, with quick pats on the back. Larry commented on how nice she looked; being all pregnant and everything. He mentioned how good it was to see her; how long has it been, not since the wedding, we shouldn’t wait that long, how were her parents, when is she due, blah, blah blah. It was everything that Larry was expected to say, but nothing he wanted to talk about.

He finally said. “Where’s Gary?”

Marcy nodded at her husband’s name. She looked around as if surprised he wasn’t right behind her. “Um, Gary, well he said he was going to bring in our luggage, but he wanted to try and tie up your dog for the night.”

“Oh, hell,” Larry said. “Ol’ Bucky will be running circles round him in the dark.” He walked to the screen door, kicked it open, and called for Ol’ Bucky. The dog loped out of the dark, past Larry and flopped down under the kitchen table. “Let me go help Gary.”

“Never mind,” Gary said, coming out of the dark with a suitcase in each hand. Gary was thin and average height, but strong across the back and arms with big hands calloused from hard work. His head was covered by a gimme cap from the feedstore over in Lyons, Kansas. “The courts didn’t allow us to take but one bag of personals each. The rest has to be “adjudicated”.” He spat out the legal term as if it was something that dropped out the south end of a northbound diseased rodent of uncertain parentage.