The Sheltered Life

Sheltered Life

Nellie and I grew up on the same street. Not a city street, more of a country street they differ from a country road in that each parcel is 5 to 10 acres as oppose to 50 to 200 acre farms. Mostly my neighbors have horses, or goats, hobby farms with corn, squash, and pumpkins some take their produce to a small farmers market in town to be sold to the locals or those just passing through.

Nellie was home schooled sheltered not by religion but by two really loving and sweet salt of the earth parents. Me, on the other hand was raised by volatile yet loving parents. Their idea of a family barbeque was plenty of beer, farm equipment egging each other on see who could take down a sapling or run over a garbage can with the tractor only to wake up the next morning mad at each other because it was their fault they had to replace said garbage can. I loved my parents but they were what some would call rednecks.

Nellie’s life was sheltered from the crazy side except when we hung out together I was careful not to introduce her to the real crazy side like hiding in the hay loft with Reggie and getting felt up. Underneath the bleachers giving Larry the football star a blow job. Our outings consisted of investigating all the places her parents warned her about. We did talk about sex I did explain in detail what a guy’s thing looked like. She always laughed and said I was pulling her leg; God would not ever make anything that ugly. One day I showed her a picture I took with my Cell phone while Larry was in ecstasy and she said her mom was right, she should wait till she got married because then sex would be special. I am not sure if Nellie believed this is what it looked like when you were having sex out of wed lock and when she got married it would miraculously be transformed into something beautiful. I just left her to her illusions. One thing about Nellie she never judged me after I got pregnant and was sent away to aunt Jeans to have the baby and give it up for adoption. I finished school living at aunt Jeans always keeping in touch with Nellie via the internet, phone calls, and yes snail mail written by hand.

She fell in love, with Guy Richards, a nice guy they did the deed in the back of his truck. She no longer has illusions or maybe she thinks it is her penance for not waiting till marriage. At any rate she told me she loves Guy so much it does not much matter. She always complains though each time friends would gather at their place, which is a small farm not far where she grew up Guy inherited after his parents passed, her complaint is friends of Guy’s have their story, that one or two incidents they let loose and did something crazy. They sit around the campfire and reminisce about the good ol days and Nellie herself does not have a story. She has always wanted her story to tell.

I landed a job as a clerk at a law firm, just greeting people in the lobby directing them to the office of the attorney they came to see, running errands basically the coffee girl gofer. Yet I have some great bosses who are encouraging me to continue my educations, they are pooling their money with the promise if my grades are high they will pay my way. I am going to take them up on it, but before I do I talked to Guy about Nellie wanting her story, he agreed she should have one and he felt comfortable letting me take her on the adventure that would lead to her story.

On the way to the story:

Pulling out of her driveway Nellie told me that she was disappointed that I talked to Guy about her not having her story, but she was also excited.

I understood but I felt that he should be aware of what we were up to seeing that he was her husband; as I told her this she relaxed and asked where we were going.

I said out of town, where no one knows us so that may be she can relax knowing no one will ever see us again.

We started to talk about some of our good old days and the conversation came up we had about Pasties.

This is how the conversation went:

“Paula are those new or used pasties do you think?”

“What Pasties Nellie?”

“The VFW are selling Pasties-are they used ones from strippers?”

“Nellie they are not that kind of pasties”

“There is another kind of Pasties?”

“Yes these are edible pasties.”

“Oh then I would think they are new and not used.”

We both laughed at that which led to the multiple conversations; including the   one about what boys things look like. I asked her if she now realizes it was not penance because she did not wait to have sex till she was married. She said yes she knew that, she asked at confession. The priest cleared his throat and apologized and he could not explain why God chose to sculpt a man in such away but he assured her God does not make mistakes.

By the time we made it to the Bar and Grill I scoped out on the way into town, it is on the outskirts two towns over, bikers and the like hang there. Country music was blaring, as we walked in, couples were necking in the back corners, guys were playing pool, girls, guys together and otherwise were doing the boot scoot boogie, someone yelled put on some real music or I will shoot the damn juke box.

Yes, this place will do, I figure we will be here a couple of hours and Nellie will be ready to go home to reality. Which her reality is not all that bad, nice looking husband who adores her, a 2 year old little boy who looks just like her.

I was wrong, after 3 beers one guy started to buy us shots, I stayed with beer she drank mine and hers. Oh this is not going to end well, I tried to talk Nellie into at least having water along with the shots; she was not having any of it.

She got up staggered to the pool table and put a wager down; the guys started laughing and suggested to wager her body not money. She said fine by her. Oh I should get her out of her, she was not willing to budge. As I recall Nellie is a great pool player, so she started to shoot pool, after the 2nd game one of the guys said she was a hustler, she said she is no whore, he said Not that kind of hustler. Well you know how that conversation went with two drunks. I finally had to step in when she took a swing at one of the biggest guys I had ever seen, he lifted off the floor. Another guy stepped in to save her honor and a full fledge riot broke out and I jumped behind the bar. The police were called, things were sorted out, the big guy and the one who jumped in to save Nellie’s honor was arrested, oh yes so was Nellie.

I followed the patrol car at a safe distance to the police station. At one traffic light there was enough illumination from the street lights I could see into the squad car. Nellie was hanging on to the grate which separated the back seat with the front seat; she looked like a caged monkey swinging. I could not make out what she was screaming but I could hear one of the officers yell, get the fuck down, get back you asshole just then she did a hurl of vomit which went through the grate, took out half of the patrolman’s face because he was turned to her yelling and also half his uniform. I remember saying out loud as we pulled from the light “Whoa Nellie”

I pulled in the stations parking lot, made sure I parked a distance away, not looking forward to calling Guy and telling him he needs to bail his wife out. Nellie still in the back seat and the patrolman were yelling at each other over the patrol car.

“I told you we should not have arrested her, she had a friend in there somewhere; who could have drove her home to sleep it off, but no you were trying to use her as an example. Example of what I no Fucking idea!”

“Fuck you ! You lazy ass did not even want to take the call.”

“I am not getting back in that nasty ass patrol car for the rest of the shift, there are 4 more hours, so you get your macho ass some soap and water and clean it”

“Louie owes us I will roust his ass out of bed.”

“Who the fuck is Louie?”

“Louie who does car detailing, I will roust him out of bed and have him clean it he owes me.”

“Fuck that, you are on your own, I am going inside, shower change my uniform by the time I am done you better be back with something more like we started with.”

At that I walked up and asked if I could take my friend home. It did not look good because they both were so pissed as they whipped their heads in my direction. Luckily they relented and said “Get her the Fuck out of here”

She puked one more time near a tree, then I  took bottles of water which I always carry in an emergency removed her shirt, rinsed her the best I could, threw on a sweatshirt I had in the back. Gave her a bottle of water told her to start drinking; if she was going to throw up I will pull over. We went as far as the closest gas station with a bathroom, washed her up the best I could threw a clean sweatshirt on her, washed her blouse, and then went to a diner for breakfast. After the diner we took the long drive home.

Now she has her story, which I am not sure she wants to tell. She said she would keep it a secret till her son gets old enough in hopes it would dis-sway him for looking to his own story.,

 

 

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