Paul Melko - The Walls of the Universe

“I should work on the drainage in the far field tomorrow. I’ve got a lake there now and it’s going to rot my seed next season.” The far field had always been a problem, the middle lower than the edges, a pond in the making.

“You need to pick those pumpkins too, before they go bad,” John said suddenly.

Bill looked at him.

“What do you know of farming?”

John swallowed his bite of sandwich, angry at himself for drawing the man’s resentment. John knew better than to pretend farm another farmer’s fields.

“Uh, I grew up on a farm like this. We grew pumpkins, sold them before Halloween, and got a good price for them. You’ll have to throw half your crop away if you wait until Sunday, and then who’ll buy that late?”

Janet said to Bill, “You’ve been meaning to pick those pumpkins.”

“Practically too late now,” Bill said. “The young man’s right. Half the crop’s bad.”

“I could help you pick them this afternoon.” John said it because he wanted to spend more time there. It was the first chance he’d had in a long time to relax. They weren’t his parents; he knew that. But they were good people.

Bill eyed him again appraisingly.

“You worked a farm like this, you say. What else you know how to do?”

“I can pick apples. I can lay wood shingles for that hole in your barn.”

“You been meaning to do that too, Bill,” Janet said. She was warming to John.

“It’s hard getting that high up, and I have a few other priorities,” Bill said. He looked back at John. “We’ll try you out for the day, for lunch and dinner and three dollars an hour. If it isn’t working out, you hit the road at sundown, no complaining.”

John said, “Deal.”

“Janet, call McHenry and ask him if he needs another load of pumpkins and if he wants me to drop ’em off tonight.”

John waited outside the county clerk’s window, his rage mounting. How damn long did it take to hand over a marriage certificate? Casey was waiting for him outside the judge’s chamber, nine months pregnant. If the man behind the glass wall took any longer, the kid was going to be born a bastard. And Casey’s and John’s parents had been adamant about that. No bastard. He’d said he’d take care of the kid and he meant it, but they wanted it official.

Finally the clerk handed over the license and the two notarized blood tests and John snatched them from his hand.

“Thanks,” John said, turning and heading for the court building.

After the wedding he and Casey were driving up to Toledo to honeymoon on the last of his cash. In a week he was scheduled to start his GE job. He was going to work one of the assembly lines, but that was just until the book he was writing- The Shining -took off.

The trip to Toledo served the purpose of the honeymoon, as well as the fact that he had meetings regarding the screwed-up Rubik’s Cube. It still irked him. The patent search had turned up nothing and they had built a design, one that finally worked, and they’d sunk ninety-five thousand dollars into a production run. Then they’d gotten a call from the lawyer in Belgium. Apparently there was a patent filed in Hungary by that bastard Rubik. The company Rubik had hired in New York to market the things had gone under and he’d never bothered to try again. Someone had gotten wind of John’s product, and now they wanted a piece of the deal.

The lawyer had wanted to drop John like a hot potato, but he’d convinced him that there was still cash to be made from it. Some cash at least. He’d have to pay a licensing fee probably. Kiss some ass. But there was money to be made. The lawyer would stick it out with John, though the retainer was just about gone.

Casey waved as he rounded the corner on the third floor in front of the judge’s office. Casey sat on a bench, her belly seeming to rest on her knees. Her face was puffy and pink, as if someone had pumped her with saline.

“Hi, Johnny,” she said. “Did you get the paper?”

He hated being called Johnny and he’d told her that, but she still did it. Everybody used to call Johnny Farm Boy Johnny, so John was stuck with it. Some things just couldn’t be changed.

He put on a smile and waved the certificate. “Yeah,” he said. “Everything’s ready.” He kissed Casey on the cheek. “Darling, you look radiant.” He’d be glad once the baby was out of her body; then she could start dressing the way he liked again. He hoped her cheerleading uniform still fit.

The ceremony was quick, though Casey had to dab her eyes. John wasn’t surprised that none of Casey’s friends were there. Getting pregnant had put a lot of stress on her relationships. Field hockey had been right out.

The judge signed the certificate and it was done. John was glad Casey’s and his parents hadn’t come. They’d wanted to, but John had axed that request. They had settled for a reception after the baby was born.

John knew his parents were disappointed in what had happened, and he hadn’t wanted to face them during the ceremony. They’d wanted him to go to college, to better himself. But those were the dreams they had for Johnny Farm Boy. John was a completely different thing.

They’d understand once the money started rolling in. They’d not be disappointed in their son anymore.

John slowly lowered Casey into the bucket seat of the Trans Am, a splurge with the last of his cash. He had to have decent wheels. The Trans Am pulled away and he headed for Route 16. “Glad that’s over with,” he said.

“Really?” Casey asked.

“Well, I’m glad it’s over with and we’re married now,” he said quickly.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

John nodded. He had to be careful what he said with Casey, what he shared. About the time she’d started showing and they’d had to tell their parents, John had wished he had the device, wished he could jump to the next universe and start over. John felt then he should have killed Johnny Farm Boy, hidden the body, and kept the device. Now the Cube had to work right. With John’s money almost gone, he might not have another chance, no matter how good an idea the AbCruncher was. He’d wanted to come clean and tell Casey all about his past, but how could he? How could she believe him?

He was stuck here and he had to make it work. There were no other choices now. This was the life he’d chosen. He patted Casey’s leg and smiled at her. He’d make some money, enough to set her and the kid up, and then he’d have his freedom to do what he wanted with his money. It would take a little longer now; there were some bumps in the road, but he’d succeed. He was Johnny Prime.

Spring had arrived, but without the sun on his shoulders, John was chilly. He’d started working on the car in the morning and the sun had been on him, and now, after lunch, it was downright cold. He considered getting the tractor out and hauling the beat-up Trans Am into the sun. He finally decided it was too much trouble. It was late and there was no way he’d get the carburetor back together before dinner.

He’d bought the car for fifty dollars, but the car had yet to start. He’d need it soon. He started a second-shift job at the GE plant in May. And then in the fall he was taking classes at the University of Toledo.

He’d applied to the University of Toledo ’s continuing-education program. He couldn’t enroll as a traditional freshman, which was all right with him, because of the fact that he’d taken the GED instead of graduating from high school. He wouldn’t get into the stuff he wanted to learn until his senior year: quantum field theory, cosmology, general relativity. That was all right. He was okay where he was for the time being. If he didn’t think about home, he could keep going.