Waking up the next morning, I was met with a terrible surprise.
Down below, an erection was standing. Still, stiff, awkwardly erect as if in deep contemplation of the world's mortal affairs from a high vantage point.
Now of all times… go back. Shoo, Shoo! Now's not the time for this.
I glance around. Tim's asleep. Good.
Lifting my pants, I guide the stubborn thing with the heel of my hand, tucking it forcefully beneath the drawstring.
Its red little head peeks through up at me like a sausage dog begging for affection.
No. That won't do. Down boy.
Folding my collared shirt over, I tighten and readjust the drawstring of my new black pants, admiring the result of my effort.
There. Am I a professional or what?
Looking around once more, two groggy pupils glare up at me then Tim rubs his face.
"Good morning."
My cheeks burn. Turning away, I sit up smacking at my face, pretending to brush away some fluff before I put on my boots.
That was too close.
"How did you sleep?" Grunting, I keep my back facing around as I button up my collar.
Yawning, he stretches his arms out and sits up next to me, hanging his legs over the edge.
"Didn't have any dreams tonight, but I suppose that's for the best." He reaches down grabbing at his boots.
"Yeah, I didn't neither." I yawn placing my arm around his shoulder.
"It seems late, you skipping school or something."
"Its the weekend."
"Ah, right." I grab at some dried jerky from the sack and toss some to Tim.
He jaws it down with a visible chomp, chewing at what remains stuck in his teeth.
Savouring mine, It flops around the place as I gesture at Tim.
"So what do youse usually do in your free time."
"We usually didn't have any free time, so I don't really know now."
I ruffle his hair.
"Wanna go for a walk then, have some of breakfast at Miss Maples. How's that sound."
"It's Missus Maple actually, but the rest of that sounds nice."
Exiting the yurt, I pull Marcus' hankie from my pocket and blow some snot out my nose.
"Dusty inside ain't it. I can't believe Marcus forgot the only thing he came over for." Tim speaks up.
"His loss is my gain." I give him a cheeky grin as I rub the bottom of my nostril.
"Though it could also be the pollen that's making me so stuffy."
"Pollen, what's that?"
Finding a nearby flower, I pluck it from its roots and hand it to Tim.
"You see that inside bit of the bulb, see what happens when you smoosh it."
He pinches it between his fingers, rubbing it against his fingers.
"It's everywhere now, look my fingers are all yellow." Lifting up his finger, he shows its coloured print.
"You see those little round things, that's pollen. When the flower matures, those things get carried by the wind and can cause you to sneeze."
Bringing his finger up to his nose, he smells it, immediately scrunching up his face as he looks at me.
"You."" uh "Were." uh "Right."
"Look up at the sky's brightness."
Craning up his neck, all the muscles in his face relax.
Achoo.
"Bless you." Passing him the handkerchief I pat his upper back. "We all have our awkward moments, no need to feel embarrassed Tim." I give him an unusually wide but mocking smile.
Sniffing, he wipes his nose before talking back.
"Just that you have those moments more than anyone else. Don't make me bring up Francis."
Hehe, that wasn't even my most awkward moment. You will never know about the events of this morning passed.
"Fine, you play dirty. How about Olfya?" I chime back.
"You wouldn't dare." He pinches my arm.
"Oh look, there she is." I gesture to a younger girl who's serving food at the periphery of the camp's stalls.
"Oh look, I don't care." Tim squeaks, shuffling his tracks next to me into the gravel walkway.
"Who even is that?"
Shrugging my arms and shoulders, I rest my smile.
I'll stop teasing him now since people can see us, don't want another one of thosereports. Closing my fist, I let out my serious voice.
"Haven't got the faintest clue, anyway, are we lost? Where do we go from here?"
"You're a rude person you know that. East is that way, we'll be there in five." he scuffles along.
Hiding my smirk, that drooling aroma of garlic and fatty meat enters my nose, and not long after, we arrive at her stall.
"Morning Missus Maple."
"Howdy, howdy, such a young man. I've never seen such a handsome face, you must be new here."
Bending down to Tim, he gestures for me to listen.
"She has bad memory," He whispers, tickling my ear. "Just go along with her, that's what we all do."
Nodding my head, I stand upright again.
"What are yer tattling about, don't make me come over there." She threatens me from her rocking chair.
Holding the base of my chin, I lean over, perusing her selection of smoked meats.
"This fine young fellow next to me just claimed that you have the best food out of all the stalls here in settler's camp. Is this true?"
"Such a young age for such wisdom. Tim and his father have been long-time patrons here, at my store. Not long ago he was a itty-bitty munchin only yay high. His father was also a good friend. You have such fine luck to be able to meet such a well-informed individual."
"Well, how could I not know I was in the presence of a local legend. Tell me grand-chef, what is your finest delicacy, something fit for only my consumption."
"Such a strange man, I would almost think ya were flattering mwa, if what you were saying wasn't rightly true.. I've something just for your palate, here here." She struggles from her wooden chair, taking off her brown hat revealing a plait of braided silver.
"How exotic can yer tongue handle, northern, eastern or even that rarer southern beef." Bending over her back stays arched as she carries up a wooden crate.
"No no my chef, allow me to help you; such a respected professional should never demean themselves to do such arduous labour." Hopping over the counter I lift the crate from her hands, causing her to huff.
"Allow this junior to help you."
"Disciple you say... I like the sound of that." Picking up a wooden spoon from the counter a slight fire burns in her eyes and her posture straightens.
"Lift with those scrawny legs, you don't want a back like mine do ya boy." She smacks my butt with the back of her spoon.
"Ouch," my hands cover my ass.
"Stop complaining like a prune and man up, or are ya too weak to learn from my infinite experience."
"I never agreed to this, please spare my butt, I yield. I yield."
"Hmph, who'da knew my new student was such a baby. Unfortunately for you I've already taken a liking to yer handsome face, help me and I will help you." She waves the large spoon around in her tiny hand, wacking at my boney kneecap.
I kneel down and reach her level, grunting to hide the pain.
"First lesson from me, only listen to me."
"Of course, whatever you say." I whimper.
"Here, put this on yer body." She throws a leather apron to my stomach.
Falling back down into her cradle, she closes her eyes, waving her hand dismissively.
"Get yer ass to the counter and service the customer, immediately, none of this standing around nonsense ya hear, and put on yer apron."
"Yes mistress."
Watching her she feels around with her frail and veiny hands, placing her woolly hat so it covers her face.
Not moments later I hear her snore.
---
Just like that some hours pass, forced to help an old lady with her shop, and after her brief power-nap she invited Tim over to teach him how to crochet, throwing wooden utensils at me when I made any mistakes.
Those two constantly watched me rummag around, rotating the stock from storage to shelf, measuring the correct quantities to give to customers all while they drinked warm tea from their large mugs. But that wasn't the worst of it.
At one chime past lunch, they came, sweaty and in groups of five. The miners finishing up their morning shift all conspired to make my work a living hell.
"Did you spit in my soup for me?"
"Can you give me that succulent meat later tonight."
"Don't forget to clean that cute ass."
Their remarks were constant and humiliating. Funny as they may be, I couldn't, wouldn't give them the time of day to feed their needless satisfaction, by showing my enjoyment.
Overstaying their short visit, they were gone by the next hour.
Replacing them, at two chimes past the tall sun, came the farmers.
They were older, respectful, but strangely reserved when dealing with me. Addressing me formally, nodding when I provided them their orders and the like; these were the type of interactions I'd come to expect from this group of veterans.
Listening to their conversations, as I usually did, I overheard them refer to someone called the 'Convict queen Marline.'
Talking in tales of adventure and sacrifice, I came to learn about the various deeds of this upstanding woman as she brought together and led the Northern group like a family tribe, integrating them into the Settler's camp.
They reminisced over plates of glazed meat. Looking back to times of shared communion in the developing town. They spoke in terms of the union and collaboration, where everyone was strangely welcoming and united in their hatred of the outside.
"When the deeds of the past are forgotten, it is replaced with acceptance and the debt of those affected. With each new child born in captivity and educated in the ways of colour, the world has lost its sight, only able to look between the shades."
"It was only recently that we have been unwelcome in our home, judged by our peers we thought were brothers, we pity them, mourn the relationship and trust that was lost, but we won't ever allow them to take away our duty to farming."
Their words gave me much to consider.
It wasn't ever just about the farming, It was about the freedom and dedication to a craft. One that nurtures life, that can feed thousands but was often viewed as meaningless labour.
Then came the stigma, a 'primitive people' in a 'primitive profession', of course it would make one stick their nose down.
Largely influenced by the propaganda machine called the 'morning announcement', only division was sowed between an otherwise peaceful bunch of different people.
But at what stage is division the will of the people, or the will of the machine?
I honestly don't know, but at least this experience has given me a greater frame of reference, to interpret the meaning within this settlement.
Yet another reason why I must act.
Shaking my head, I focus down and look at a boy. Behind him are three more children waiting around, separated from the bunch as they enjoy their food.
Serving him, I watch the groups of children as they sit on the lawn, eating their meals with their tiny hands and tiny mouths.
After serving the final customer, I sit down on a vacant chair, sighing with a slight smile.
"Ya did some good work boy, catch some sun with the rest of us and have yer break." That sharp accent calls me over.
Folding up the counters hinge and dragging my chair over the grass, I plop down next to the bunch.
One Missus Maple,
One Timothy,
And three women, strung up in dark overalls and large woven hats all nodded at my approach.
Staying silent, they crochet next to Missus Maple, making sure to help Tim out with this woolen bow.