Am I Weird?

I'd heard several 'clicks' on the line, but didn't think anything of it at the time.

After telling me she loved me and that she'd be ok, we signed off. I hadn't said a word to the daughter about what went down.

The next morning at breakfast I did tell her Allan would probably be staying with us a while. She scoped out her dad was probably in trouble for selling drugs again so I didn't correct her.

The next day, the sheriff's department, the highway patrol and what turned out to be the OSBI [Okla State Bureau of Investigation] parked in front of my house. They had a tape recording of our phone call and were very interested in HOW I knew about the murder. I wasn't allowed to even talk to my wife as they held her in her own car. Under guard, I took them to my office and dug out the notebook.

The OSBI guys thought I was lying through my teeth except I told them I could alibi myself for the last week or more. It's an all day drive to Tahlequah from our farm, so one- my daughter would miss me and I'd been seen around town every day, not to mention pulling my loads.

"You mean to tell us you fucking DREAMED this whole thing, that the deceased TALKED to you?"

"I did dream it and no, Ron never spoke to me. The one time it was like looking through his eyes until Blackie did whatever he did to the back of his head."

"Blackie took a claw hammer and crushed the back of his skull, then shot him with a .38 to make sure he was dead. BTW, that little tip on the gun being hidden in the insulation was helpful."

"So, what now? Am I being held for something?"

"If your alibi proves, there's nothing to hold you on, but I have to say, this is the strangest case of psychic mumbo jumbo I've ever witnessed."

"Officer, believe me. You should have seen it thru my eyes...just like I was there. I never really cared that much for Ron. As a guy, he was likable. As a father and authority figure, he sucked. I never condoned his drug dealing and made sure our daughter only visited while we were present."

"We think Ron was trying to get out of the drug ring but he knew all the people involved and the drop points and that's why Blackie did him."

It turns out Ron's phone had been tapped for quite a while and the cops were there right after Blackie and Mouse escaped. We made another funeral and gathered Allan's things to bring him home with us. The place was left in Allan's name and my wife's brother would play caretaker until Allan was old enough to live on his own.

Allan was a mess. He was already into the drug trade but I warned him the first time I caught him with any, he'd get a bus ticket to no where and we didn't want to see or hear from him...his choice. My house, my rules. But, enough about him. Last I heard of him, he was doing 20 for armed robbery. Somehow, I could see that.

--

The farm...

I mentioned we lived on a farm. What I didn't mention was it was haunted. In Oklahoma, there are a lot of homes left over from the land rush of 1889. Ours originally started out as a sod shack, later to be re-built and added onto. Everything about the house was an afterthought. A local farmer HAD been renting it as part of leasing the section of land belonging to the farm. We'd been living in a smaller place and one day in the diner, he cornered me and asked if we'd like a larger place to live. I'd seen the house and estimated it had at least two bedrooms down and two bedrooms upstairs. It did have a couple of downsides. We would have a 2-seat privy at the end of the sidewalk bordering the driveway. This I had to see. Driving out there, I asked why he was moving.

"Oh, the wife hates living in the country. She has to DRIVE six miles to see her biddies in town and that just won't do."

We got to the farm and I HAD to see this outhouse. Actually, it wasn't bad. It had a heater and a wall mounted air conditioner and was a two seater with a carpeted floor, wallpaper and electric lights. IF we took it, I guess when the snow flies, you won't dawdle around taking care of business. We went into the house and sure enough, four bedrooms, nice paint and carpet. Looking around, I didn't see a bathroom and the kitchen was minuscule. Asking about the bath, the farmer opened what I THOUGHT was a closet door, only to reveal a claw-foot tub reaching wall to wall, end to end.

"Don't worry, you can take a bath, you just need to bring your robe or change of clothes in, hang them on the door, get in the tub and put the plug in and start the water."

What a production.

"I should also mention there are six shallow wells that service the farm, but since I'm moving my cattle to our other place, water won't be a problem. Did I show you the old cook house?"

Sure enough, right out the backdoor was a small 'house' that was being used in this time period as a laundry. While we were outside, he showed me the sheds I was able to use and lock...all the others he was keeping machinery and tools in and to stay out. Next on the sightseeing tour, he led me over to a black 55 gallon barrel mounted about ten feet off the ground on the remains of an old windmill.

"This" he proudly said "This is where you shower during the heat of the summer. The black paint on the barrel keeps it warmed up and I have a float valve up there that kicks on when the water level drops. The wife and I loved it!"

Having a jr high step daughter who MIGHT take exception to showering in the nude and in public, as it were, we weren't prudes about nudity, we just didn't flaunt it. I had my doubts but told him I'd bring the family out to look it over. He gave me the keys and told me if I decided against it, he was always in the diner.

Ok, now time to spring this on the family. June [my wife] and Ronny[the step daughter] would have the final say on this place, so gathering them up, [Alan, off to parts unknown with one or more of his delinquent friends, had no real say in the matter as I only considered him 'visiting']. On the trip out, I told my girls about the history of the place. They were probably looking forward to sod walls. Strangely, they both loved the place...two seater, outdoor shower and all. June was ecstatic over the large bedrooms ,living room or den and the enclosed wrap-around porch. Ronny chose an upstairs bedroom covered in very bright wallpaper. Across the hall from her room was a humongous walk-in closet running nearly the full length of the house. June decided the bedroom adjoining ours [ours USED to be the front room] would be her closet and make-up area. Building a pipe frame as a clothes rod was no big deal. Learning to navigate the kitchen would take some doing. It consisted of a very narrow isle with the sink and stove on one wall and a small countertop and fridge on the other. If the oven door was open you couldn't get past it...same with the fridge. Otherwise, it would do. Alan took the remaining upstairs bedroom but after the second night, wouldn't sleep there anymore, choosing the sofa bed downstairs.

When asked why, as I would have killed to have a bedroom with so many windows in it [9]. He'd only say something up there creeped him out. Ronny chimed in saying she dreamed she saw a little dog walking the hallway but that didn't bother her.

--

Strange shit goes down...

Ok, we were settled in and to my surprise the farmer only wanted $75 a month to rent the place to us. All I really had to do was keep the place up and mow the yard. Water was free and we had a gas well on the place, fueling the kitchen and the heaters. I might mention here the house had old, skeleton keyed locks on the outer doors. The trouble began a couple of weeks after moving in. If Alan or one of the girls went out to use the privy or take a shower, the back door locked behind them. This didn't happen occasionally, it happened every time. I could come and go as I wished and was never locked out. It mattered not if the door was closed gently or slammed - if THEY went out, they were locked out. It got to the point we had a key hanging by the backdoor and they grabbed it on the way out. We just decided it was the 'ghost' of the house.

As I said, June and Ronnie were using the spare bedroom next to ours as a dressing/closet/makeup area. June came to me and said if it was after dark, she could 'feel' someone watching her. That was echoed by Ronnie also. We were miles out of town and to my way of thinking, unless someone wanted a long hike, you's hear a car driving up our road. That didn't matter. SOMEONE was peeking at them through the window in the room and I'd BETTER do something about it. I thought about the room and talked June into hanging some privacy curtains over the one bare window. THAT would surely give them some privacy. Nope, curtains up and they were too creeped out to go in there after dark. Ok, this called for drastic measures.

I looked VERY carefully at the ground outside and around the window...No footprints as it was bare dirt. So what to do? A short brainstorm later, I hit the hardware store in town and bought a quart of black paint and a brush. I painted the window inside and out with the paint, then after dark with all the lights on in there, went outside to look for pin holes...nada. Case closed...NOT! The next night was the same thing, only June felt like whatever or whoever was watching was actually in the room with them. All I could say was live with it. If whoever got off watching them dress but didn't speak or touch them, what was the big deal. This really wasn't what either wanted to hear and the reality we MIGHT have a ghost or ghosts didn't set well with them.

I had an afternoon off after hauling salt water all night and was at my desk in our bedroom. I heard the backdoor open and close and steps across the floor to the stairs. From that point, SOMEONE climbed those stair and went down the hall towards Allan's room. I gave him a few minutes until I'd rectified our checkbook and went up to check on him since school lacked a couple of hours from being over. Not a freaking soul in his room, all the windows were locked from the inside. Now I was creeped out. I didn't share this right away with the girls for obvious reasons.

A couple of nights later, I was tossing and turning. I could very vividly see June's grandmother swimming in a sea of blood. Shaking, I woke up, violently awake enough to rouse June.

"Honey, what's wrong?" She could see sweat dripping off me.

"I had a dream about your grandmother and it was bad."

"Was it anything like the Ron dream?"

"Exactly like the Ron dream."

She flew to the phone to call her mother who lived in the same little town as Elsie, HER mother.

"Mom, Buck had another dream and it was like the Ron dream but it was about Elsie. I'm scared."

Her mom demanded to talk to me so I explained everything I saw. Doris, the mo-in-law didn't bother to hang up the phone..she raced over to her mother's house.

Turns out Elsie had a vaginal hemorrhage for some reason. Hell, the woman had to be in her 90's so a period wasn't quite valid here. The worst was, she'd made a total mess of her bed. Doris took her to the emergency room in the next town where they kept her for observation. Doris finally came home and wanted to hear the dream all over again. June just looked at me like I'd grown another head. Hey! I don't control this shit.

A few more nights passed and I had another dream. This time it involved June's brother's son in Dallas. I dreamed he was hit by a car and the numbers two and four seemed to be really important. I didn't waste time and woke June, who in turn, hysterically called her brother. Her brother and his live-in were heavily into psychic shit and had eaten the whole Ron dream as gospel. The dream about Elsie just solidified their beliefs and after June told him what I'd just slept thru, he completely lost it. He called his ex wanting to know how badly his son was hurt. The ex had no clue what he was talking about and wanted to know what he was smoking, however, TWO days later he stepped off a curb and got brushed hard enough to knock him off his feet, not even a bruise to show his near miss. The number two bore out but how four figured into it, we'll never know, but as far as June's brother went, I walked on water.

June and I damned near split the blanket over her and her daughter not wanting to stay on the farm anymore. Going into town and hitting the diner, there sat the farmer. I think he could tell by the look on my face I had bad news.

"Your wife won't live out there anymore, right?" he preempted me.

"Seems a lot of weird stuff happens out there. I consider myself a logical person, but SOMETHING is going on at that farm, I just dunno what."

"My wife was scared to death of the place. Can you tell me what you experienced?"

"Someone peeking at my wife and daughter through a blackout window, the others getting locked out every time they went outside, footsteps that I heard myself that belonged to no one...yeah, I'd say that was weird enough. Not to mention the dreams I've been having. Those scare ME."

"I'm in a bind here. The old woman who owns the place has a clause in the lease that someone has to be in residence at all times. Would you consider staying if I charged you $25 a month?"

"Sorry, not even. I like being married."

We moved to a nearby town and June took over management of a truckstop restaurant. This was actually the beginning of the end. I left the salt water business and turned to over-the-road trucking, setting first seat with an owner-operator that was going to lose his truck. Seems he couldn't stay awake, driving maybe an hour before having to pull over for a nap. I agreed to be first driver on the condition we log in his logbook as well as mine. I had no trouble staying awake, sometimes for 24 hours at a pop. He was responsible for our expenses and if we lay over anywhere, I got a motel room out of his pocket. We turned things around and he started to get better loads with better settlements. I called home every couple of days to check in. Sometimes I'd get June, but more often than not, Ronnie. Ok, June had a job and she had to cover shifts, so no big deal.

We'd gotten a trip for a load of cheese in Wisconsin after unloading in Chicago. Trouble was, a blizzard was sweeping in off the Great Lakes and if we weren't quick, we'd be stranded in Chicago. Like normal with our log books dummied up, Carl [the owner] hit the bunk. The interstate from Chicago north was turning into a one lane skating rink and I was pulling an empty trailer...not good. I was doing ok for the conditions, maxing my speed at 25mph or less as we were getting ready to cross the state line. Signs had been put up saying the scale was closed due to the weather. I had a hypo following close behind me when suddenly, this volkswagon fishtails out from behind me then swerves back into my lane, nearly catching our front bumper. THEN the idiot slams on his or her brakes, sliding off the pavement into the median. The only choices I had was to one- hit the fool or two, HOPE my trailer brakes wouldn't screw me up too. They did.

Believe it or not, I jacknifed and turned a tractor and 40 foot trailer 360 degrees WITHOUT getting on the shoulders. The trouble was I was rolling backwards at 25 mph. I went through the ditch and as luck would have it, plowed right into the scale shack, knocking it a part like a house of cards. Carl goes maybe 285lbs and I was leaning over the doghouse, bracing myself from the dash. If you know what a Freightliner cabover interior looks like, you can imagine all those toggle switches gleaming like the teeth of a saw...no thanks. Anyway, my right arm had a death grip on the jump seat back as Carl slid out of the sleeper like a big turd, breaking my elbow and putting me into those damned switches. After bouncing off me, he slid into the jump seat and said; "Are we there yet?"

About that time, the hypos that were following me jerked open the door and pulled me to the ground into a puddle of diesel fuel that was pouring out of a saddle tank. WHY I didn't know. I was still trying to figure out why my face hurt and why my right arm wouldn't work. I'm bleeding, my elbow is bent the wrong directions and I'm soaked with diesel fuel...all in sub-freezing weather. The OTHER cop grabbed the younger one and sent him to get on the radio and tried to help me up. He kept asking me if I were alright...fuck that! Did I LOOK alright? Soon an ambulance arrived and Carl FINALLY noticed I was hurt and we were parked very strangely. Really quick on the uptake, dude.

I ended up in surgery to fix the arm and got a couple of stitches to my head and told I'd be there 24 hours in ICU in case I had a concussion, otherwise I was looking at a couple more weeks in the hospital to get more surgery if needed and start physical therapy. Carl got right on the ball and called our safety man, explaining the accident. We had the police report by then and we were in no way at fault. I pity that poor asshole in the VW. The cops were probably piping daylight to him or her. The company lawyer would take care of the damage to the truck at the driver's expense, then there was the cost of the scale shack to the state of Wisconsin, of course. The safety man was also responsible for calling next of kin about the accident and told me he only talked to a young girl.

Once my head cleared from the anesthetic, I called home but it was in the middle of the night and no one answered. Next up, I called my Sis. After telling her no one answered at our house and that fact her 'Baby Brudder' had been in a truck wreck and hospitalized, the shit hit the fan. Sis told me to call our company in the morning and all documents and monies to be placed into her account. No sweat off the company's ass. Sis called every day and still got no answer so she went to town and waited until Ronnie got out of school.

"Where the hell is your mother and why is no one home to answer the damned phone?"

Ronnie dummied up but Sis wasn't taking that for an answer.

"Ronnie, your step dad has been in a wreck and I want to know WHERE your mother is and if I'm not satisfied with the answer, you're getting a bare-assed spanking right her in front of God and all your friends."

Ronnie had been around Sis long enough to believe her words were gospel.

"I don't know where mom is. She packed a bag and left me a hundred dollars and told me she'd see me in a week or two. I've been staying with a girlfriend. Allan took the hundred dollars and took off in mom's car. I doubt he comes back."

"Now, tell me everything that's been going on with your mother."

"I think mom has a boyfriend. Some guy bought her a real nice leather coat and she talks about him all the time. Why does she have to mess things up. I love Buck. He's been the only real father I've ever known."

"Well, we'll go pick up your stuff and you're staying with us. You ride the same bus my kids do."

I think Sis camped out at the truckstop or else paid someone to let her know when June made an appearance.

Right in the middle of the restaurant, in front of God and everyone, Sis mounted my soon to be ex. June had her nose in the air, defending what she'd done as 'poor June, stuck in town without her husband'. I think June forgot Sis had been there, done that and managed to raise three kids in the process so she felt no pity towards June.

"I tried to cash a check and it bounced. What am I supposed to do for money?"

Sis wasn't even sympathetic; "Get your new trucker boyfriend to foot your bills. I doubt you've even been home as I see your bag by the door, but Allan took Ronnie's money and your car. As far as money, you don't have any. You aren't on the account anymore and my best advice is...Buck will be out of the hospital in another week and 'I' wouldn't be around here when he comes home."

"What do you mean 'out of the hospital'?"