Swear to God Chapter 6
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"Swear To God" Chapter 4 free porn video
"Ride the High Country" (1962)
The marriage ceremony:
- "We're gathered here in the high mountains in the presence of this august company to join this man and this woman in matrimony.
Now, I'm not a man of the cloth, and this is not a religious ceremony. It's a civil marriage. But, it's not to be entered into unadvisedly, but reverently and soberly.
A good marriage has a kind of simple glory about it. A good marriage is like a rare animal. It's hard to find. It's almost impossible to keep.
You see, people change.
That's important for you to know at the beginning. People change.
The glory of a good marriage don't come at the beginning.
It comes later on.
It's hard work."
- "Judge Tolliver" - Edgar Buchanan
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In the split second before I opened my mouth I decided I'd brazen it out. Portend that everything was fine, that I'd not dreamed of vermin, nor pissed on her bathroom floor, etc.
"No, Girl, I'm fine. Just fell asleep here on the couch watching 'All My Children.'"
"Thank goodness, Cully. We're out at Westroads (mall). Tommy took me shopping."
She was lit up. I was so relieved I felt like shooting them both with my slingshot. And I was going to mention, warn her about presenting in public with him, but, I just blew it off. She was too happy. She liked men, but, she loved shopping, or, was it the other way around?
"And Tommy insisted on buying you some gifts as well, Cully. We can't wait to show you. He's so generous. Cully. Cully, are you there?"
"We?" To-my-self.
"Yes, baby, I'm so happy you're having a good time."
"I am, honey. And it's because of you. Thank you, Cully, and Tommy thanks you. Trust me, he's a whole new man in the little time we've spent together. He's found a purpose for his life now. The extra night made the difference I believe. Thank you again, Cully."
I thought about inquiring as to what that "purpose" was exactly, but, she plowed thru my place in the queue.
"Cully, I want to ask a favor, a biggie, honey."
Uh, oh, another day? Well, at least she beat me to it, I was going to offer another day without the request.
"Cully, would it be okay if we had Tommy over for dinner on Wednesday evening, well, afternoon? He wants to thank you in person, and get to know you, honey. Get to know us. It would mean the world to him, Cully. Please, for me, Cully, for me?"
She'd do the [Please, for me, Cully, for me?] protocol at rare times. Started as far back as Jr. high school. The first time I became almost entranced by her approach, the change in her tone, body language and spirit. And I granted that request at once though I couldn't tell you the particulars of that charter appeal, just that signature approach. I do remember the mini skirt she'd worn that Friday. Just high enough to keep me on pins and needles, low enough to get by the school dress code. They'd check the girls with wooden rulers, measuring it out, wooden paddles at the ready for the offenders.
"C'mon, honey, that will be two swats." They'd go into an empty classroom with another teacher standing as witness and apply the corporal punishment.
Always-male-teachers.
They beat us for anything. I amassed twenty-nine swats in the seventh grade. It's where I believe I got hooked on spankings. The worst was when I was creamed two swats by a real hard-ass algebra teacher. Turned my ass not black and blue, just black. The old man found out, took time-and-a-half an hour off from the steel mill and showed up there. They called me to the office over the intercom, had me take my pants and underwear down in the principal's office.
"If it happens again he'll get what he gives." The old man.
I was so ashamed. Not of the old man's defense of me, (after all he could whistle the loops/he worked in leather, not wood) with the best of 'em, but, ashamed of his appearance there in his work clothes. I've cried a million tears in the over half-century since for that shame.
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But, back to Girl's mini-skirts:
"Cully, if you were a girl like Girl no way would dad and I let you out of this house dressed like that, honey. I'm shocked her parents permit it."
It was all for show. She guarded that thing like Ft. Knox.
"No, Cully no." As "Crimson and Clover" played on her record player over-and-over down in her parent's basement.
"Well, can you at least touch mine?"
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"Please, for me. Cully, for me?"
"Sure, angel, that would be fine. I look forward to meeting him."
I never hesitated a moment.
A most adorable squeal was emitted over the phone line.
"Now, I'm keeping little notes about, you know, what we're doing, you know, otherwise, you know. So that I'll have a record to show you and help me to recount our, you know, if you'd like to hear, or, read that litany of you know what. Does that make sense, Cully? Or, I'll just throw them out once I get home if you don't want them."
I knew immediately whence she spoke. The thought of pouring over those "you know" notes in that adorable left handed cursive of hers made my groin waken.
"No, Girl, no." I tried to settle down. I think I made it.
"The notes are an excellent idea. Please keep making that record. I'll decide when you get here whether to keep them, but, let me throw them out if it comes to that, okay? Is that understood, uh, angel?"
"For sure, Cully. I promise I'll keep making them and you'll have them to make that choice. Right?"
"Right."
I felt giddy. I'd luncheon as soon as we'd cut the line. I could eat. I thought about asking for a primer about "you know," but, reconsidered. I'd wait. And no jacking off.
"Can't wait for tomorrow when I see you, Cully. I miss you. And thanks again for letting Tommy come for dinner. I'll cook for us. For my two guys."
Mother(s) had taught her well, as she'd learned to cook like the God's.
"Her two guys?" To-my-self.
"I better scoot, Tommy is going to take me to lunch."
We exchanged (I love you) and hung up.
"Are they going to kill you on Wednesday night in some crackpot conspiracy to murder?"
Talking to myself aloud was becoming a lot of fun.
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She called back that evening with a grocery list.
"Now, Tommy has given me a hundred dollars walk around money, (I held the money in our family/that circa) Cully. So, you buy the groceries and I'll repay you, okay?"
"Sounds good, honey."
"You sound much better, Cully. I'm glad."
"Yes, for sure."
"Can't wait for Wednesday afternoon. Well, I am also looking forward to tomorrow evening when I see my little Cully-boy again, but, Wednesday will be a new beginning for us I believe, Cully. Sweetheart, thank you for doing the shopping and for being so kind and understanding."
I started to speak but she cut me off.
"Oh, Tommy has decided to take the rest of the week off as vacation time, so, he'll be able to match up with our vacations. I'd forgotten all about us being on vacation, Cully, so did you."
I started to go again, but, she cut me off again.
"I have a fresh note, Cully. After we got back from Westroads, he took me to bed. Can't wait to show you."
I wanted to go sexual, to be inquisitive, but, I held my tongue. It'd be better that way. My confession awaited. If I went early and dropped too many, or, any hints it'd ruin the path ahead. Though I was greatly relieved that I did indeed feel as I did.
But, she didn't know that. Both Tommy and her sounded as though my feelings on the subject were going to be of little consideration and consequence. That fact alone caused my mood to plummet in the space of mere seconds, so, I didn't try to interject again. I hid my alarm, we said our goodbyes, and (I love you) a piece and hung up.
"How can it go from so good to so bad so quick?"
So, I answered my question with a question:
"What if you didn't want this in any way, shape or form, Dale?"
My voice startled me. It didn't resemble my voice whatsoever. I didn't recognize it. I fled to her bathroom and addressed my reflection with close to the exact same query:
"What if you don't want this in any way, shape or form, Dale?"
"Again!"
"What if you didn't want this in any way, shape or form, Dale?"
Talking it over with myself helped a bit. The incoming panic attack subsided, but, did not extinguish. I could feel it simmering. I just prayed I could keep it on simmer till I picked her up and there'd be a resolution.
"[resolution] is a bad choice of words, son."
"What should I do?"
"Go shopping. Now."
"Good idea. Let's go."
I fled the house for the store before I dropped into such a depression that anything would be feasible.
I fired up the Road Runner. Well, turned it over. I'd agreed not to fire it up in the trailer park at the insistence of the management. Some 4x4 named Earl Welt.
"Stop it, Mr. Castleberry." I stopped.
Once out of earshot, I put it thru some preliminary tasks, found no joy in it and angrily pulled into the Hinky Dinky parking lot.
"Get out."
I came close to going back to the house and phoning her and putting it on the line.
"What would you say if you did that?"
I implored myself: "Please don't talk to yourself while sitting in this damn car!"
"When was the last time you bought her flowers?"
"Too late, flower buying is a taken position. She's probably got three dozen by now from the damn copper."
"Get the fuck out of this car!"
I finally obeyed myself and wobbled, like a wino, on into the grocery store.
"Get a hold of yourself, man." To myself.
Of course, I'd chosen a crooked cart. "Son-of-a-bitch!" Out loud.
Spent under fifty-five smackers. If I played my cards right I'd clear forty-five dollars if she handed me the entire C note. He's probably loaded, probably a "sewer." Somebody who always has a lawsuit in the pipeline and a fat check for the one that just settled. I made a mental note to find out from Girl where he was getting that extra dough to buy gifts and hand her cash.
"Break my rice bowl, will he!" I exclaimed to the rear view, fired it up and put down Firestone rubber-at least twenty-five feet of it. It was wicked, a head-turner, by God.
Then was grateful I hadn't drawn law enforcement.
"Aren't you ever going to learn?"
Back home I cleaned the refrigerator, unpacked the groceries and finally spied the clock. Straight up 11 PM. They were probably doing it like two rabbits.
"You know she ain't gonna tell you everything. You know that, don't you?"
Probably a cuddlier. "Cully, cuddle with me, honey."
"Rockford Files is just starting." I'd timed (it) perfect.
"Perhaps a drive over, see if the cruiser is sitting there?"
"I ain't got it in me, guy. Let's just lay down and give up the ghost. Okay?"
"Sure, man, I'm ready." I shook out the quilts, fluffed my feather pillow and crawled on in.
"Leave the light."
For the second night rats came along with the sandman. The living room was filled with them, all scurrying like maniacs.
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"Cully, I've decided not to come home. I need some time to think. I'll come and get my things after you've returned to the base when your leave is up." CLICK!
I woke like a shot, convinced it wasn't a nightmare.
I started right up again: "He's probably standing right next to her."
"It's for the best, Girl. Don't worry, he won't bother you, ever again."
Then thinking to himself how he could wrest that Road Runner away from me.
"Better check on it, son." I parted the curtains. Relieved to find it present and accounted for. Then checked again to make sure I wasn't just imagining it being out there.
"Call her!"
"No. I'm not calling this close to the end. It's the home stretch. I'm clean. I ain't called and I ain't whacked it. And that Road Runner is still out there."
Fuck me, I checked it one more time.
"I have nobody to talk to. Fuck me, the only person I can talk to about something like this is with him! What in the fuck have you done, Cully?"
"I have fucked myself, is what I've done. He was sitting there waiting on me. They set me up. A speed trap."
"But, wouldn't they have just conducted the affair without the speed trap? That would alert you to the affair. They wouldn't do that, right?"
"You got a point there, and a good one, I have to admit."
"Okay, calm down now, son. Eat something. Are you hungry? No."
"What time is she going to call to tell you the time to pick her up?"
"What if she doesn't call?"
"What if Girl never calls again?"
What if she files for a divorce."
"Don't say that word!"
"Okay, I promise."
"Look at the clock." I'd turned it to the wall the night before.
"No!"
"When are you going to look at it?"
"When the phone rings and not one minute sooner."
"Agreed."
"Clean the house."
"Good idea."
"If you vacuum you could miss the phone call."
"Don't vacuum."
"Good idea."
"Take a spin over there just to check the landscape in case you have to go over to drag her back home?"
"He has a gun, asshole. He'd shoot you."
"I had no choice, Captain Howser, Girl will attest to that. She was at my place under my protection when he broke the door down. I warned him multiple times to leave. I thought he had slingshot."
"Real funny, Cully."
"Check for her car, damn it, boy!"
"Both cars present and accounted for, sir!" I came to attention and saluted my reflection in our wedding photo glass frame. Girl and I, in silhouette.
"Cully, don't leave me here."
I'd spent our wedding night counting the take of cash and checks from relatives and friends.
"Culburn, are you coming to bed, or, not?"
"Sweetheart, I have to count it one more time, it's at odds with the first two counts."
Thirty-some years later that story would be a family heirloom. That night? No.
She'd fallen asleep in her brand new pure white nightgown waiting for me.
I had to take her virginity, thus consummate our marriage the following morning.
"Just don't tell your mother."
"I won't. I promise."
What'd she do?
Told her mother.
Who called my mother.
Who told my father.
Who wouldn't stop laughing.
(to be continued)
Miracle
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