On The Ongoing Cultivation Of Even More Alternate Memories

 

"The guy at the gate said it was okay." Photo by Joe

Ted leaned against the impeccably-restored 65-year old tractor, one of three such relics that stood at the western edge of Seneca Farm, looking as though they were guarding against any intruders who might approach from the CSX railroad tracks that bisect Dickerson, Maryland. The old farm, which had now been dormant for several years, was once a favorite venue for assorted teen shenanigans and hijinks for Ted and his friends. 

In the years since the 2010 death of his best friend, Bobby, the row of tractors had been the setting for therapeutic coping sessions with Bobby's widow, Nicole, in 2017 and again in 2019. The following year, Ted and Nicole learned that the property, which was on the verge of being turned into a farm of giant houses too close together, had been purchased by their mutual friend, the MAGA hat-wearing former lobbyist Brock "Swack" Swackhammer (they tolerated his politics by way of avoiding seeing Swack more than once every few years). Now, on this unseasonably-warm Saturday afternoon in October, 2023, everything had changed - except for the need for a favorite shared coping mechanism.

A car came crunching down the long gravel driveway and stopped at the house. Ted watched as Nicole pulled herself up from her Prius and walked the hundred yards from the house to the tractors. When she was about halfway there, she stopped. "Take a picture - it'll last longer."

He pulled out his phone and turned on the video camera. "Don't do anything embarrassing, Nic. I'm livestreaming."

"Ha. You're like 55 years old, Theodore. I know damn well you don't know how to livestream."

"I know." He turned off the phone and pocketed it. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. You look just as spectacular as ever."

"Back at you, dude," she said with a smile. She stepped up to him and kissed him - a friend's kiss, although right on the lips, which was new - and then hugged him tightly.

"Whoa," he said. "What was that for?"

"That's for agreeing to walk Claire down the aisle. She's so thrilled-- Well, thrilled is the wrong word, but you know what I mean. She said you're the only other man her dad would have approved of, to give her away. Then she reminded me to tell you that you're not giving her away, because it's 2023 and she's not property. Then she went on a bit of a rant, of course."

"Of course. You must be proud. She turned out so cool."

"Yeah, I did okay, I guess. But that's not what I came here to talk about. She's pretty much the only thing in the world that's not an absolute shit show, right now."

"Uh oh. What's going on," he asked, adding, "I mean, besides Israel and Gaza and the dumpster fire that is Congress, and our nation's collective delusion that the economy is in ruin when it's actually doing legitimately well? And besides our having been expertly trained to hate each other, lately? And besides climate and women's rights and the actual stealing of a US election - NEXT year's - and Ukraine and Putin and Taylor Swift? Oh - and besides the fact that the ex-so-called-president has a very real chance of getting away with most, if not all, of his crimes? Also, what's going to happen to this old farm, what with Swack going on trial for January 6th--"

"They convicted him," she said flatly.

"What? When?"

"Today. Jury was out for like half an hour. Sorry - I assumed you would have heard."

"Nope. Well, no surprise, there. He's guilty of way more than they even charged him with. Can't believe he lied to us about renouncing his membership in the red hat cult."

"I think he really tried, for a hot minute. But you know how hard it is to get out of a cult."

Ted nodded. "Pretty hard, apparently."

"Anyway, before we get to what's going to happen to our beloved tractor graveyard and the world in general, there's something I need to talk through. Something that's been haunting me - literally."

"Okay..."

Nicole cleared her throat, drew a deep breath, moved her annoying tendril of hair, now at least fifty percent grey, to a position behind her right ear - a position she knew would be frustratingly temporary. "We've never talked about what happened on the camping trip."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes and or laugh out loud. "Oh dear God. That was a lifetime ago."

"I'm serious, Tedward," she insisted. "It haunts me. I think it's actually getting worse."

"You're still the only person allowed to call me Tedward, you know. And I don't know what you want me to say about the camping trip. You and Bobby in your tent, me and Astrid in ours, Swack and his babe of the month in theirs. Camping. Drinking. I remember a lot of drinking, and Swack being a pig, and his date taking off after the first night. Am I missing anything?"

"You know you remember more than that. Come on. It's me. We have to talk about it."

Ted shuddered and took a couple of deep breaths. "Okay, fine. Of course I remember. I just think my brain is better at shutting out traumatic memories, or something. But yeah. I remember. I've never been more terrified, before or since."

"When Swack came back from looking for his date in the woods all day, and he was covered in dirt and bloody scratches, and he swore up and down that it had been three days since he'd left. What the hell was that?"

"And we just laughed at him," Ted added. "He was shaking, and in tears. His eyes were crazy, like he'd seen a..."

"Ghost," she said. "Like he'd seen a ghost. Or worse. And then he and Bobby got into a huge fight over the damn map, and Swack took off again. And you and Astrid tried to go after him, and Bobby and I waited for you at the campsite, and you never came back. It got so freaking cold that night, and we couldn't sleep - at first because we were listening for you guys or Swack to return, but later, because it sounded like we were completely surrounded by a bunch of snarling and growling and gurgling and weird, semi-human moaning. Look at my arm - look at those goose bumps. I'm getting them all the time, lately."

"I'm sorry we weren't there," he said sadly. "That sounds awful. But we were way out in the woods, and in the moonlight every single shadow or rock or tree trunk seemed to literally be chasing us. Do we really have to talk about this?"

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around whatever the hell that was, at the old stone house. First of all, I would still swear under oath that that house was NOT there, the first time we passed that way. And then the screams - whose screams were those? Stupidly, I let myself think for a second that you guys were just pulling some elaborate Swack-inspired prank on me and Bobby. But those screams were straight out of hell. And the blood all over the stairs and walls..."

"I know. We got there right before you did, and we hadn't found Swack, so we also  suspected a giant practical joke. But it wasn't. I don't know what it was, but I don't think I want to know. Seriously.

"He was standing in the corner in the basement, just lurking there, like a kid in some ghoulish time-out..."

Ted put up stop sign hands. "No! Nope, nope, nope, and nope again. That's 'Blair Witch Project,' and you know it!"

Nicole smiled sheepishly. "I know. Sorry. I'll never be as good at the make-shit-up game as you guys were - and are. Thanks for playing along, though. Nice escape. I think I actually scared myself, for a minute there."

"You're getting pretty good at it, actually. Of course, you learned from the best. It's getting dark. Shall we vacate these soon-to-be-foreclosed premises?"

"Yes." She took his hand and they strolled toward their cars. "Hey - did you see the cows, on your way in?"

"Yep. I stopped the car and took a picture of them, and they just stared at me like, what? I think the dairy farm next door is going to bid on this place - or at least part of it."

"Huh. I wonder if they'll let us continue hanging out here, even though at our age it's undoubtedly increasingly weird- and sad-looking."

"Maybe."

They reached Ted's car, and he started to let go of her hand, preparing to give her a see you later hug. She didn't let go, and took his hand in both of hers. "One more thing, Tedward. Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I will go on a date with you." She smiled.

"When did I ask you out?" he wondered aloud.

"2017," she said matter-of-factly, "right over there by the tractors. And 2019. Pretty much every time you've seen me in the past six years. And in a couple of texts. Anyway, yes."

"Awesome!"