Hung up on Charlotte and hypoglycemic.

Beau

Being tired comes with the territory when you’re a rancher but today is different. Today I am bone aching, mind numbing, worn out exhausted.

When Charlotte called me last night and woke me up that was the end of sleep for me. First of all I couldn’t believe she called. Second I couldn’t stop thinking about her and third I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about her.

Her family must be desperate to allow her to call on me for help. Unless, and this is what I suspect, she did this all on her own and then we are in for some serious trouble.

I’m all for putting the Hill/Deardon feud behind us but I’m pretty sure our parents will have to be six feet under in their graves before that will happen without a fight.

After hours of tossing and turning with visions of long blonde hair blowing in the wind, a perfect round ass barely covered by a tiny pair of jean shorts with frayed edges that stick to smooth skin and full lips I’d pay to bite, I got out of bed and started my day.

I’ve been dragging ass since before dawn cutting the heavies from the herd making sure the cows closest to calving are in a separate adjacent field from the rest. I don’t need any problems today. I’m so sleep deprived my reaction time would be sludgy at best and we are at the height of calving season, when I need to be hyper alert if a cow gets into trouble during delivery.

Along with being tired I’m hungry and my blood sugar is low. In my Charlotte haze, like a dumb ass, I skipped breakfast. If I’m not careful I’ll be on the ground being trampled by cows instead of meeting her in the hanger at noon.

Noon, shit, it’s eleven o’clock and I have to stop at home and eat with mom before I go. I eat with her every day, skipping would throw up red flags all over the place. My meeting with Charlotte has top secret stamped all over it, if anyone finds out there will be a special kind of hell to pay.

“Dale, I’m heading to the house for lunch,” I yell to my father’s right hand ranch hand. He waves toward the house and I cue King to turn and head home.

I blink and shift to the right in the saddle confusing King for a moment but he knows me and senses that he should slow his trot to a lope. I’ve been riding King for ten years and somehow he knows when my blood sugar is low. He has in fact brought me home slumped over and unconscious once when I was seventeen years old. I got lost on the plains and couldn’t find my way home in time to eat.

When I approach the barn Billy is waiting with a worried frown. All of our employees have worked for us for years and they know about my diabetes.

“You didn’t eat did you?” he says when I slide down to the ground and use King for balance.

“Might need some…” My next word was going to be help but my legs decide to give out and Billy catches me before I hit the ground. With my arm around his shoulders and his around my waist he nearly drags me from the barn to the house.

“David, take King, this fool didn’t eat breakfast. I gotta get him inside,” Billy says and I’m so groggy I couldn’t make a smart-ass comment if I wanted to.

“Your mama’s gonna be pissed boy.”

He’s right; she gets irate when I fuck up like this. Good thing it doesn’t happen very often.

He throws open the front door and yells, “Mrs. Hill.” No answer. “Angel, your son needs to eat,” he says trying again.

“Beauregard Samuel Hill, how could you skip breakfast? You must have a woman on your brain to do something so damn stupid.”

For a moment, two of my mother move in my direction and merge into one. I feel faint and my head hurts but none of that is worse than being called Beauregard. Only my mother gets away with that and only when I can’t tell her not to.

How the hell did she guess I was in this condition because I was daydreaming about a woman? She’s the only person who still believes there is any hope of me falling in love someday and giving her grandbabies.

“Mom…”

“Hush. Sit him down right there, Billy, I’ll get a couple glucose tabs.”

I try to walk on my own but it’s no use. Billy helps me shuffle to the kitchen table while mom retrieves the tabs from the cabinet next to the sink that overlooks the countryside.

“You got it from here Mrs. Hill? I need to get back to the horses.”

“Yes, yes Billy, go on. He’s going to be fine. Here, take these, and shame on you for skipping breakfast.” She hands me the sugary tabs that taste like sweet tarts and waves her hand toward the door.

Billy bolts. The ranch hands don’t like to interact much with my mom since she started having what they know to be mood swings. She can be downright mean at times and other times she’s the sweet loving woman she’s been all her life.

It’s hard not telling them what’s going on. I hear them whispering sometimes and I want to yell at them, she’s not a mean bitch, she’s sick! But I can’t, until dad thinks it’s the right time, whenever that will be.

“You feeling better son?”

“Yeah, thanks.” My mind is clearing and I don’t feel like a limp noodle anymore when the sugar starts circulating through my body.

“I’ll check your blood sugar in a few minutes, in the meantime eat your lunch. You might need to take the afternoon off, you’re looking ashy,” she says shoving a plate of roast beef and steamed vegetables in front of me.

“I’ll be fine. I have things to do.”

“Things can wait, it’s not safe to have you driving or riding around out there alone, I won’t have it.”

I slowly start in on the home cooked meal she’s prepared without bothering to argue. It’s pointless, I’ll be fine and I’m not cancelling my meeting with Charlotte unless I go into a coma.

The door opens and closes when my father stomps in for his midday fueling. “Smells good in here, you make my favorite, pretty lady?” He walks through the house with his eyes on mom like he’s going to have her for lunch instead of roast.

“I did, are you hungry?” She’s making him a plate at the counter when he moves behind her and slides his arms around her waist propping his chin on her shoulder.

“Very hungry,” he says in a suggestive tone that makes me a little nauseous again but not for lack of sugar in my blood.

“Dad, could you keep it G rated I’m trying to eat over here.” He grumbles something about grown men living at home with their mamas and releases my mother to move to the sink and wash up.

That was a shit thing to say whatever it was. I wouldn’t be living in this house if it weren’t for my mother’s failing health and he knows it. He asked me to move back in. I was perfectly happy in the ranch house on Hamlet pasture, mom has a thing for Shakespeare and all of our pastures are named after his tragic works. Othello, Macbeth, R&J, King Lear, that interestingly enough is what she named her favorite horse after.

When I lived in my own house I had privacy and room to spread out. Here I occupy one bedroom and share the rest of the 6000 square feet home with my parents. It’s not the ideal situation for a man who isn’t interested in settling down.

My mother would have a stroke if she knew how many one-night stands I have. I can see it now, waltzing through the house with a sexy waitress from Ye Old Hill Tavern draped on my arm. Hi mom, dad, this is… what’s your name again? Karen? Oh yeah, this is Karen. We’re going to my room to have casual sex and she will be out of here by morning. Goodnight.

I chuckle and my dad raises an eyebrow when he sits down across from me at the table.

“Something funny?”

“Nah, just thinking about a joke Billy told me.”

He snorts, he knows I’m lying but he doesn’t push.”

“Beau had an episode this afternoon,” Mom says placing dad’s plate in front of him. She has always referred to hypoglycemia as an episode. I have no idea why.

“You need to take better care of yourself. Who am I gonna leave this place to if you’re not around?”

“Mack! Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s okay, Mom, he’s right, I was distracted this morning, it won’t happen again. I do need to get going though, I have a meeting.”

“A meeting? With who, that bull out in East Othello? That one’s been acting up something fierce lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“You’re not going alone are you?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be fine. You fed me and I’m feeling much better, I promise.”

“Maybe you should have Dale go with you since you’re not 100%, that animal is awful rowdy, you might need some help.”

“Sure all right, I’ll text him.”

I slip my phone from my breast pocket of my shirt and pull up Charlotte’s number. I need build trust with her and this is definitely not the way to do it but I’m not getting out of here anytime soon with these two on my back.

Can’t make it today, how about tomorrow? I text and wait for her reply which I assume will be immediate. But it’s not. Five minutes later she hasn’t replied. I look at the time and it’s already noon. She’s probably waiting at the hanger already, shit. The reception there might not be the best. I need to get to the airstrip before she thinks I stood her up.

“He’s ready to go now, I’ll see you two later on tonight. Love you, Mom, catch ya later Dad.” I stand up to put my plate in the sink. I’m lightheaded still and I should wait to drive but I’m not leaving Charlotte hanging. The only person I can hurt driving on our little ranch roads is myself and that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

“Beau, really, can’t you wait until I check your blood sugar?”

“Stop babying him Angel, let him go. He wouldn’t if he didn’t feel good enough.”

“Thanks Dad.” I look at my worried mom, “I’ll check it I promise, but I feel fine.”

She doesn’t argue but when I’m closing the door I can tell it’s not because she is listening to reason. She’s gone to that place where her disease takes her far away from those of us who love her most. Her eyes are blank and she slumps back into her chair. Dad notices too but he continues to talk to her as if nothing is wrong.

I fucking hate Alzheimer’s. It’s one of the cruelest diseases, stealing your loved one’s mind bit by bit, piece by piece until they can’t remember a thing about their life or those still in it.

I hesitate at the door but dad shoots me a look that says go on. I close the door and turn my face toward the Montana sun and close my eyes.

In the truck I try to text Charlotte again but still no response. Maybe she changed her mind and never even showed up at all. It’s going to take me a while to reach her. I literally cross my fingers and hope that she hasn’t left yet.