The God in the Field: Part One (special preview)

Some days people are there and some days they are not. This was something I had learned before I could even read, before I knew anything else of the world. I knew people had to go away and never come back. They walked into the field because that was where they belonged. 

I remember the day my father walked in. My mother and I stood away from the field, and I felt so terrified because of how tall the grass seemed. It was big enough that when it would consume my father, there would be no sign of him. He stood there looking in, his back turned to us. My mother had told me that afternoon it was ‘his turn’ to go inside and that eventually it would be her turn, and sometime after that, it would be mine. 

When he finally walked into the grass, it was as if he never existed at all, everyone just seemed to forget about him. I knew it happened to others, but it became a stark reality when it happened to my father. No graves were ever erected for anyone, no memorials, no funerals. It was absolute. Once you walked into the field, your real life began.

Years went by and the grass loomed closer with each passing day. There were days I was acutely aware of its presence. It towered over me, pointing down at me like it was judging me. Other days, I paid no heed to it beyond my window, it was like any other field in the world.

After school, I had a variety of jobs in our small town. I worked at the only restaurant as a waitress, I did checkout at the grocery store, I even delivered milk in the early mornings. I liked that job, it was peaceful and easy. I drove all around the neighborhood, placing milk on stoops and taking away the old glass bottles. No one bothered me, no one paid me any attention. I just did my job and then went home.

One early morning I was leaving the dairy when I saw a peculiar sight. On the edge of the road there was a car parked, hood up and smoke was coming from inside. Beside it, a young man was kicking the tire, cigarette clenched between his teeth. He turned right as I was looking and he broke into an embarrassed smile.

I had never found myself looking at a man before; I had known everyone I went to school with all my life. There was no point at looking at them. He was new, though, and so very, very handsome. His blond hair was slicked back, with a few strands hanging in front of his face. His cheekbones were high, his nose was crooked, and his eyes were perfect storms trapping me in their power.

“Little help?” He waved then took the cigarette from between his teeth. “Trying to get out of this state and it doesn’t seem like anything is going to let me.”

I looked around, uncertain of what to do. I’d rarely dealt with strangers, our little town wasn’t exactly a need to be destination. “I have to start my deliveries,” I said to him. “I do have to go past the garage if you want to be dropped off there. The mechanic is a drunk, though, so I’m not sure when he’ll open today.”

He approached me, looking over the milk truck before he opened the door and hopped inside. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but beyond that stench, there was a waft of cologne that was spicy and sweet at the same time. The front of his shirt was stained with grease from the car, as were the front of his jeans. Which were, if I recall, just the right amount of too tight.

He smiled at me and he had dimples I could poke my finger in. “Thanks,” he chuckled. “I’ve been here for an hour and I’ve barely seen a car pass by.”

“You’d be lucky to see a bird go by.” I drove away, feeling suddenly nervous by his presence. I felt giddy and awkward at the same time.

“I thought it was supposed to be a milk ‘man’,” he teased.

I smirked, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. “Aren’t I?” 

He looked me up and down, his smile and dimples growing. He then bit his lip before taking another drag on his cigarette. “I guess it doesn’t matter either way when one looks like that.”

I looked directly at him, grin growing on my face. “Do you talk to all the milkmen this way?”

“Only the ones who save my ass.” He tosses his cigarette butt out the window then leans back against the seat.