"What are you doing babe," Jim's disembodied voice asked her.
"I want to talk to you."
"You are," his voice said, almost laughing at her.
"Yes, but I want to hear you with my ears, not just in my head. I want to see your face again."
"Okay. Well, yo...
Since John and I began our courtship near the beginning of our rumspringa, we didn't feel the need to get out of the house and be wild and crazy like most of our friends. We did however, choose to dress the part; he wore a lot of tee shirts and jeans and I had got my ears pierced.
John, who had requested to be called Jim by then, had gone out to the local mall and made of purchase of a book called, "Interview with a Vampire" by a lady named Anne Rice, and decided to address me as Gabrielle. I remember rolling my eyes as I sat in the front bucket seat of the Camaro that he had purchased with the money that he had made the two previous summers.
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He had drawn my portrait and then painted it with home made tempura paints. He had showed me his sketchbooks, the only real luxuries that his family allowed him...all were hand-made, but I thought they rivaled store-bought ones; they're full of actual art as well as silly cartoons of Snoopy and Woodstock, not merely sketches of buildings and what not. I still love them.
It was during our rumspringa that I couldn't fight off hearing the voices in my head anymore...they told me things, things that I should know and it frightened the hell out of me and it's probably why I was so docile.
Two of my girl friends met at my house one Friday night during the summer that I turned seventeen and we waited until true dark for the boys to show up on the road about a quarter mile from my house. I put the lantern in the window as we did to let them know we were ready. Jimmy took his flashlight that he had bought and blinked it off and on to let us know that they were ready for us...there was to be a big party that was sure to last the weekend. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't nervous...we were camping out and that meant that Jimmy and I would be sleeping in the same tent. We had our little clique and we pretty much looked after one another mostly because we heard all kinds of horror stories of girls winding up pregnant and moving up their wedding dates and boys getting into all kinds of trouble and winding up in the English's jailhouse and none of us wanted any of those things to happen to us...we were actually a fairly benign group...there were some who went ballistic and got into all kinds of trouble.
We drove for about twenty minutes to a campground where the boys had already picked out and set up our campsite. I was in charge of the food; Jimmy had insisted upon it because he said that I was the best cook. I've always thought that cooking for our group also gave me a reason not to party too hard, since I wasn't really into it in the first place. To his credit, Jimmy didn't drink all that much, but he did like to smoke his pot; he liked "catchin' a buzz" and would offer it to me. This particular time, I took him up on it. He was thrilled, of course. I thought I was going to cough up one of my lungs and he teased me about it, but only half-heartedly. He told me that I was cool...It was supposed to be a compliment. I relied heavily on Jimmy, as he was far worldlier than I was. I realized quickly long prior, that I would have been lost without him.
I did notice that while high, I did feel pretty good; Jimmy told me that I would. He opened up a can of beer and offered it to me and I found that I didn't care for it at all. So, he tried mixing vodka with some orange juice...I liked that better.
