That Time I Tripped And Fell Once More

Don't tell secrets in a cornfield - it's all ears!

“So how long have you two been dating?” the hitchhiker asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“Oh, we’re just friends,” I replied, smiling at Mike.

“As if you’re just friends,” laughed the hitchhiker, rolling her eyes into the back of her head. We picked her up along the highway, about sixty miles back.

Mike turned off the parkway, and within minutes they were being swallowed by corn fields. My skin started to prickle. “I think you took the wrong exit, Mike, it feels like we’re driving into a horror movie.”

“It’s the right exit, Pam, it’s the fastest way to get to the festival, my GPS wouldn’t lie.”

“Nooooo, a GPS wouldn’t lie. Unlike some people I know,” No sooner was that out of my mouth and I wanted to take it back. Oh no, here we go.

“It was over a year ago, Pam. I’m sorry. Just like I’ve been sorry almost every day since then, and being your friend is getting harder with you always bringing that up.”

The hitchhiker slouched in the backseat, trying to fade into the cloth interior.

Silence hotboxed the car. The hitchhiker leaned forward and asked, “How about those Mets?”

Mike looked at her in the rearview mirror, and I turned around to face her. She added, “Never mind, I don’t follow hockey.” Half groaning, half laughing at her lame joke, the mood lifted in the car.

“I haven’t seen a house for a few miles. I sure hope this is the right way.” Failing miserably to hide my concern, as always. The single lane road stretched far ahead of us, with no sign of life anywhere.

“Mike! Look out!” The hitchhiker noticed the dog before we did. Mike swerved in time to miss it, then gravity pulled us into the corn field, about 4 feet below the road level. Jumping out of the car, we noted the flat tire.

“Oh, just great,” Mike complained, finding no tools in the trunk. “That dog must live somewhere around here, let’s go find his house and maybe they’ll have a jack to change the tire.”

“Tag, you’re it,” I yelled after touching Mike’s shoulder. The hitchhiker and I screamed like little school girls as we dashed this way and that through the field. Mike chased us and when we took different paths, he followed her. I slowed down, surprised to find myself pouting. I heard their footsteps but could no longer see them. How much corn does this world need? I wondered. The rows went on and on.

“Pam, catch up!” Mike yelled.

I trotted on the tips of my toes, trying to see above the corn. Of course, when one is trying hard to see above something, one has a hard time seeing what is right in front of them. I tripped. I must have made a loud noise though because Mike appeared out of nowhere. He sat beside me, rubbing the dirt off my clothes, looking for scrapes on my arms. My stomach began to dance as I watched him fuss over me, but I shook away the nonsense that almost popped in my head.

“Can you walk?” The hitchhiker started us with her question. “I think I know which way the dog went.”

“I don’t think I can walk. What did I trip on?” I noticed the bowling pin beside me and laughed again. “I think I’m going to stay here and maybe bowl a few. If only I had a bowling ball.”

“Mike, I don’t mind searching for the house, why don’t you stay with Pam.”

Off she went. Mike started rubbing my ankle which had begun to swell. “What happened, silly monkey.”

“You haven’t called me silly monkey in months.”

His hand traveled in slow motion from my ankle, up my calf, and all the way up to my neck. He leaned in, pulling my face to his, “You are my silly monkey, Pam.”

“No, don’t, Mike. We’ve talked about this. It’s so much easier being friends.”

“Easier for who? All I think about is you.”

“Even when you’re dating?” My eyes fell to the ground. It wasn’t fair to bring up girls when I was both the one who left, and the one who insisted on remaining friends.

He stood up and walked through a few rows of corn. “Mike?”

“I found something,” he said, “it’s the bowling ball.”

We sat for a while, rolling the ball back and forth. “This is how you make me feel, Pam. Like I’m being rolled constantly in two different directions.”

We both knew he was right. “I’m so afraid of hurting again. You’re my best friend, Mike. The first person I want to call or text if something exciting or sad or funny happens. You’re the one I want a hug from when I’m down. But you cheated and I just can’t trust you.”

“That was a year ago. Have you noticed I haven’t even dated anyone for the last 6 months? I only want to be with you. Maybe you’ve met someone finally, and you’re moving on.”

“Mike, you are the only man I want to be with, I just don’t want to be with you.”

We heard movement and I looked up to see the hitchhiker, along with a farmer and his wife. The wife placed some ice on my ankle. The farmer took Mike and the hitchhiker toward the car to change the flat.

“I can see he loves you dearly,” the farmer’s wife commented. “I’m sorry but these old ears can hear far in these fields of more ears.” She chuckled at her own wittiness.

“I love him, too. It’s very complicated.”

“Is it?”

Mike and the others came back. I finally saw him for who he really was. A man who’d made a mistake, and had spent almost every day since then making it up to me. “Mike, I lied. I do want to be with you!”