She knew she came in third place after Jim's hard-bitten identity and his '64 Chevy pickup. Women's intuition. She was just curious and bored, so she agreed to go out riding with him. He hardly said anything to her, but took her to the Frostee Freeze for a malt. They sat and watched people go by and Jim made salty comments about them that were actually quite funny.
"Look at that a-hole. Plaid pants? My eyes are hurtin'."
Cheryl could relate to comments about fashion. Jim was no fashion bug. He wore nothing but Wrangler jeans and beat up boots, a tee shirt and a Carhart jacket. In fact she couldn't believe she was going to be seen with this guy, possibly. But there they were. She said,
"Well, look at that girl he's with. Looks like she's perfect for him. She's wearing a plaid dress with lacy sleeves. What kind of fashion sense is that? Only in Utah, I swear."
"Yep," he said. "I don't mind Utah except fer the people. I like it best out in a field with no other sonsabitches around for miles."
At that, Cheryl's heart warmed a bit. She liked being able to understand Kanutsson a little better.
"Me too," she said, trying to keep most of the emotion out of her voice. "Or I like being in a whole crowd of normal people. I can pick the Mo-daddies out like that."
"Mo-daddies?" He said, choking on his shake as he laughed.
That ride in the truck with Jim Kanutsson was not half bad. They went around the school and over to the feed store, where Jim jumped out and picked up a bag of some kind of feed, which he threw into the back of the truck, plus a box of cat food that went into the gap behind the bench seat of the truck.
When Kanutsson brought her home, Blaine happened to be standing in his yard. Cheryl felt a little rattled but she and Blaine managed to completely ignore each other. Blaine came over to the fence and yelled,
"Kanutsson! Your truck's too ugly for the neighborhood."
He yelled back, "Ford: Found On Road, Dead."
Cheryl got out of the truck and told Kanutsson thanks. The jarring tension that she felt in her impressions of the two guys made her want to run away. Her dad had just put in a walkway of flat stones, and she walked up it to avoid stepping on the sprouting lawn. Kanutsson gunned the truck as he drove away, possibly the pickup truck equivalent of a compliment to her, and she waved to him.
Back in the house she put on her Roberta Flack record again, only this time she wasn't crying. She picked up the phone to call Darlene and ask if anything interesting had happened at Pioneer Park that afternoon, since she'd missed the after-school hangout. And she thought it was funny how Goshen, and the park, had become her little world in just under a year.
"Look at that a-hole. Plaid pants? My eyes are hurtin'."
Cheryl could relate to comments about fashion. Jim was no fashion bug. He wore nothing but Wrangler jeans and beat up boots, a tee shirt and a Carhart jacket. In fact she couldn't believe she was going to be seen with this guy, possibly. But there they were. She said,
"Well, look at that girl he's with. Looks like she's perfect for him. She's wearing a plaid dress with lacy sleeves. What kind of fashion sense is that? Only in Utah, I swear."
"Yep," he said. "I don't mind Utah except fer the people. I like it best out in a field with no other sonsabitches around for miles."
At that, Cheryl's heart warmed a bit. She liked being able to understand Kanutsson a little better.
"Me too," she said, trying to keep most of the emotion out of her voice. "Or I like being in a whole crowd of normal people. I can pick the Mo-daddies out like that."
"Mo-daddies?" He said, choking on his shake as he laughed.
That ride in the truck with Jim Kanutsson was not half bad. They went around the school and over to the feed store, where Jim jumped out and picked up a bag of some kind of feed, which he threw into the back of the truck, plus a box of cat food that went into the gap behind the bench seat of the truck.
When Kanutsson brought her home, Blaine happened to be standing in his yard. Cheryl felt a little rattled but she and Blaine managed to completely ignore each other. Blaine came over to the fence and yelled,
"Kanutsson! Your truck's too ugly for the neighborhood."
He yelled back, "Ford: Found On Road, Dead."
Cheryl got out of the truck and told Kanutsson thanks. The jarring tension that she felt in her impressions of the two guys made her want to run away. Her dad had just put in a walkway of flat stones, and she walked up it to avoid stepping on the sprouting lawn. Kanutsson gunned the truck as he drove away, possibly the pickup truck equivalent of a compliment to her, and she waved to him.
Back in the house she put on her Roberta Flack record again, only this time she wasn't crying. She picked up the phone to call Darlene and ask if anything interesting had happened at Pioneer Park that afternoon, since she'd missed the after-school hangout. And she thought it was funny how Goshen, and the park, had become her little world in just under a year.
