the farmer's daughter

the farmer's daughter: 9

I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take the breath that's true
I look to you, and I see nothing
I look to you to see the truth
You live your life, you go in shadows
You'll come apart, and you'll go black
Some kind of night into your darkness
Colors your eyes with what's not there
Fade into you

Fade into you By mazzy star

After the tense morning, you don't speak to Johnny again that day. Or the next. When he arrives, he stays outside with his thermos of coffee and waits for Shane. At the end of the day, he gives your brother an excuse about chores at home. Maybe not an excuse. He has been spending a lot of time around here.

Nearly a week after it happened, after everything changed, your mother appeared in the kitchen with a crease in her forehead. You offer her a cup of coffee as she rubs her eyes. She yawns and shakes her head.

"We'll grab a cup at the hospital," she says, "your father has a check-up. Shane's taking us."

"Oh?" You pour yourself a mug and lean on the counter, "I forgot."

"Lots going on," she sighs, "can't blame you for being distracted."

"Uh, yeah, I guess," you shrug.

"I called Johnny, left a message," she checks the clock hung above the door, "wouldn't be too bad if he did swing by, huh?"

"Hopefully, he doesn't waste the time," you grumble.

"Honey," she chides playfully, "you know, I think your dad would approve... if he could. He always liked Johnny."

"Mom," you frown, "please, I have enough to worry about."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she whines, "I'm just... looking for a little sunshine through the clouds."

You wince, a pang of guilt between your ribs, "I'm sorry, mom, I just... Johnny's nice. He helps so much, and I think... I think maybe it's too much."

"Don't I know it. He is so generous. I gave him some money and I found the envelope in my purse," she tuts, "you could do much worse. He... he could take care of you."

You exhale, "mom."

"Just listen," her tone turns dire, and her eyes gleam, "your pops can't. He's not gonna be able to ever again. I already know what the doctor's gonna day, and you shouldn't fool yourself. Johnny won't help forever, not for no good reason. And next year, your pop's won't be back on his tractor..." she sniffles and dabs her nose, "those days are behind us."

"Ma, you don't know-"

"I do," she utters solemnly, "I see the man I married, but he's hollow. He's... a shell, honey. He's there, but he's not, really."

"Oh, ma-"

"I'm just saying... we need to weigh our options. I'll look into selling if we gotta and Shane. Maybe he can go work with Johnny-"

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" You cross an arm around your middle.

"We shoulda been talking about this a week ago," she shakes her head.

"Well, I can apply at the grocer or-"

"You do that," she says, "but you think really hard. You got options," she steps closer and cups your cheeks, "you're a pretty young thing. That doesn't last forever."

You don't say a word as her greyness seeps into you. She draws away, and you bow your head. You wait for her to go as you stare into the black depths of the coffee. You take a sip to try to chase away the ice in your veins, but it only sends a shiver through you.

Your parents go off with Shane in the truck. You set to sweeping the porch to keep yourself busy. Your mother's words ring in your ears. She can't be serious. There's more out there than the farm. Pops always said as much, and you don't think he meant Johnny.

As you get to the steps, the distant rumble of an engine rolls over the ground. You turn as gravel grits under treads and Johnny's large truck lazily rocks along the bumpy road. You still the straw broom and grip the handle as he pulls up. Did he not get your mother's message?

He lingers in the truck as you squint against the sunlight. His door pops open, and he jumps down, sending up a cloud of dust. He goes around the bed of the truck and opens the back.

Johnny slides out a sheet of wood and drags it towards you. You watch in confusion as he stops and leans it against the side of the porch. His eyes meet yours, and his brows furrow.

"Morning," he checks his watch, "barely."

"Morning, Mr. Miller," you eke out."

His eyes flash, and he nods. He turns and marches back to the truck, pulling out several planks before carrying them over. You watch him as you lean on the broom.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

He stops and looks up at you. He points to your feet and flicks his finger up, "building a ramp. For your dad."

You look down at your slips flecked in dirt and stray strands of straw, "Oh? Didn't ma call-"

"She didn't ask," he says bluntly.

Your lips slant, and you tilt your head, "That's real nice."

"Yeah, well, I'm a nice guy," he huffs and spins on the heel of his boots, stomping away once more.

He goes back to the truck and retrieves his toolbox. His agitation roils off his tense shoulders and the stone set in his jaw. You're too afraid to ask, but you do need to. He has been avoiding you.

"Well, I'll stay out of your way," you lift the broom and back up the stairs. "If you need anything-"

"Not in the way," he says curtly as he takes out a measuring tape.

"Oh, I know, but I wouldn't want to bother-"

"I don't mind," he shrugs as he steps onto the stairs and measures the angle over them.

"Right, of course, do you need anything? A glass of water or-"

"Seems like I'm the one bothering," he stands and lets the tape retract harshly.

"No?" You bat your lashes at him, "I didn't say that, Mr. -"

"Johnny," he growls, "you know what I like best in a woman. Honesty. So why don't you be honest and tell me what you really feel?"

"I..." You gulp, "Johnny, I... I'm just... confused."

"Don't act like a child. We both know you're not," he crosses his arms over his broad chest. You've seen him angry before, but it's never been aimed at you.

"I... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"Sorry. Okay," he shakes his head and unfolds his arms, going back to measuring, "I'm open to talking when you want to be an adult."

You flinch as you watch him. He grits his teeth, ignoring your presence as he focuses on his work. You turn, hiding the hurt deep in your chest. You never meant to hurt him,

but you really don't know. As much as you try to wade through your feelings, you only feel as if you're drowning in them.