Page 60 of Spring Showers

“We did alright. My property is sloped enough to keep the buildings dry,” JB said. “I heard about the lake. Is it really holding water?”

From her vantage point on the ridge, Thandie could see the water glistening in the late day sun. Little ripples seemed to glow like fireflies in summer and roll out towards the shore. “It looks pretty full to me. It’ll be a while before that amount of water dries up.”

“I bet the roads aren’t much better. Will you be careful up there?” JB said, and not a moment too soon.

Thandie drove through a puddle and the car skidded off the road onto the muddy shoulder. She put the car in a lower gear and pressed the gas pedal. The car didn’t budge. She threw the gears into reverse and tried easing herself out, but the tires just rotated, spraying thick, brown muck into the air around her car.

“I’m stuck.”

“It’s okay for you to not know what to do next. Just think about it before making any rash decisions,” JB said.

Thandie laughed. “No, I mean, I appreciate your advice, but I’m physically stuck. In the mud. The car won’t move.”

It was JB’s turn to laugh. “I see. That is very different.”

“I’m gonna get out and see what I can do. Stay on the line?” Thandie asked and opened the driver’s side door.

Her feet sank into the mud and sucked at her boots. Each step felt like she was walking in quicksand with sacks of flour tied around her ankles. She did a quick survey of the area around the car. If she could pull some old bush branches and some long grass out and throw it down behind the tires, she could gain some traction.

It was the only plan, short of waiting for a good Samaritan to come along with a winch or tow. As she was alone on this particular stretch of road, she took long, heavy steps through the muddy area to where the ground had better drainage and was actually walkable.

She gathered the loose stuff first and tossed it up near the car’s rear tires until a decent pile had covered the mud. Getting clumps of grass proved to be more difficult than she would have thought. Growing up on a farm, there was nothing she didn’t know how to cut down, grass included. But this bright-green spring stuff wasn’t giving up without a fight.

Thandie took a clump of the best-looking stuff, a foot and a half tall and six inches around, and gripped as tight as she could. She counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

She locked her fingers and pulled as hard as she could. The grass gave up its hold, along with all the roots, and about a half a ton of soaked soil. Her momentum carried her backwards and directly into the sopping puddle beside her car.

She screamed and could hear JB’s voice emanating from inside the car. Thandie couldn’t hear exactly what her friend was saying, but answered the likely question. “Everything is fine!” Thandie yelled into the air. But it wasn’t. The week was ending the way it had begun, with her ass in the mud again.

With an exasperated growl, she tossed the mud and grass down to the fence in front of her.

The sun was setting fast, and the fields in the distance glowed bright yellow and green. Further away, the flowers danced in shades of muted blue hues along the horizon. It would be a beautiful scene to take in if it weren’t for her being suctioned in place forever.

Already covered in mud, she flopped back and laid in it with her arms outstretched. “This is it. This is how I die.”

The situation was far from serious, but with how exhausted she was, dying seemed like the easiest way to get some rest. Or at least, laying there for a moment or two could be nice.

Before she could perish in her own puddle of hopelessness, headlights came around the corner downhill from her, bumping up and down with the dips in the road. The car most likely hit the same pothole she had run across before finding herself in her current situation. She sat up, but the shifting of her weight forward captured the whole of her bottom in the mud, and clumps of slimy dirt slid down the back of her white shirt. Deciding that she did not, in fact, want to kick the bucket just yet, Thandie reached for a clod of earth and threw it up into the air as the vehicle approached.

The old, red pickup truck, slowed down, having seen her distress signal. Relieved, she laid back again and awaited rescue. “Careful, this stuff is super sticky,” she said to her would-be hero.

“Why is it that you are always covered in mud?”

It was Grant. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his sultry, low voice, though she detected humor there. Whether from embarrassment or absolute fatigue, tears pushed at her eyes.

“Why are you here?” she said with a shaky voice.

“For you,” he said and stood in the mud over her. “Though, I admit, I didn’t expect to find you in such a state.”

“Stuck in the muck?” she said and threw a handful of mud into the brush.

“No,” he said and sat down next to her. She tried protesting, but it was too late. His bottom was stuck right there beside hers. “Sad. I didn’t expect to find you sad.”

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