by Jillian Mccutcheon

Created on: June 17, 2009

THE TRESSLE

The black Ford pick-up raced along the dirt road, potholes jerking the truck back and forth. He had had a hard day at work, pouring concrete and laying cement. The Blue Collar work that this country is built on is what the politicians called it when they wanted his vote. Honest and hard work to be proud of is what he was raised to believe.

He urged the truck to go faster. He was hot and tired but he couldn't wait to get there. Finally he pulled onto a field road, parking behind the dirt bikes and four-wheelers that had already beat him there. Not a soul was in sight but he knew where they all were.

He leapt out of the pick-up and discarded his shirt, his tattoo sleeved arms standing out proudly for all to see. He began toward the little foot path starting at the end of the field where the tree line began. He could already hear the screams of laughter and delight. Just a little farther and he'd be there with them, with her.

Bursting into the clearing his eyes search frantically for her. A cheer ripples through his friends letting him know they are thrilled he is there. At last his eyes catch her long curly auburn hair. She's laughing. Her whole face laughs, from the up turned corners of her mouth to her deep blue eyes. It's one of the things he loves about her.

Her voice cuts off the cheer that he had arrived. It's her turn to jump off the tressle into the creek below. She laughs, catches his eye, and winks. She then takes off with two strong steps and leaps off, about two stories above the water. Narrowly missing the shallow edge with the jagged rocks she lands in the deep pool with a splash. Everyone cheers again. His heart is pounding because he worries about her, but wouldn't have her any other way.

When she comes up from under the water she looks up to find him and smiles that secret smile. They aren't really a couple but everyone knows that they have something others do not.

"JUMP" she yells challengingly. He groans and rolls his eyes, but he is hot and sweaty from work and he's not about to be outdone by her. He climbs up and jumps, terrified. He'd jump off a cliff ten times higher for her.

He surfaces gasping for air, finding her cheering loudly and then giggling at his petrified features. They don't go for each other. They know that later in the heat of the summer night, when it's just the two of them, they will more then make up for missing the other.

He thinks of their journey. She had gone off to college, lived in three cities, and had just come back from a year in Paris. He hadn't left this small country town in Northern Pennsylvania. He knew nothing of books or politics, and there didn't seem to be much she didn't know.

She smiles thinking of how no matter how far she traveled there was no where she'd rather be. He was the honest genuine guy every girl didn't think existed. He knew more about cars and motor bikes than she could learn in a lifetime and he could kick her butt in scrabble no matter how many times they played. He was spontaneous and fun and it was home wherever he was.

"This is where I choose to be," she thought, "With him."

"This is where she chooses to be," he thought, "With me."

And before one last giggle and a dive under the water she mouths to him, "You're my favorite."

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