Better Together

(This is an entry for the Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2023. [Please rate and comment.] So it really bothered me that in my stories, there's an unequal relationship between men and women. For better or worse, this is my attempt to make them equal. Please tell me what you think!)

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It was a scorcher of a summer day, and there were no clouds in the sky, no potential relief from the unrelenting heat. Ivy Garner sighed and continued weeding her award-winning garden. The summer cucumbers were ready to harvest so she could make her prize-winning pickles.

Last year her pickles had received rave reviews at Iowa's Wapello Country Fair but failed to place. (She suspected the mayor's wife and the wives of two city councilmen had won out of nepotism. That's the way life was in a small town, and Kirkville, Iowa, only had 137 people.)

Ivy's "secret" was to pickle the cumbers in rum and hot red peppers alongside radishes for a week before pickling them in vinegar. It was prizewinning, but her recipe was a highly coveted secret. All her neighbours were jealous!

This year Ivy hoped to go to the Iowa State Fair and win the pickle competition. Her pickles were delicious, and Ivy's recipe was a highly coveted secret, which all the neighbours begged her for. In typical stubborn Iowan fashion, Ivy was happy to give them the pickles but NOT the recipe!

Des Moines, the state capital of Iowa, was quite the drive from Kirkville (population 237), where Ivy lived. Still, if she placed in the pickle competition, Ivy would like to go to Des Moines. Des Moines wasn't Paris---hell Des Moins wasn't even Chicago, which was the biggest city "relatively" close by. Des Moines was still a long way from Kirkville, and it was the capital of Iowa. Ivy thought lots of exciting things must happen in Des Moines, at least more than in Kirkville.

Travelling the long distance to Des Moines was especially difficult since Ivy didn't have a car. Her husband, Denis, had died in the Korean War, leaving Ivy a widow with a five-year-old daughter and a mortgage. She'd gotten a job at the Corner Cafe---but it was just enough to cover expenses. Ivy couldn't afford anything fancy like a car or one of those newfangled TVs her now teenage daughter Monica had been pestering her for.

Ivy thought enough went on in Kirkville, no matter how small it was! She didn't need a TV to get nightly news from far-off places like Boston or San Francisco. Ivy got her news from the Sunday paper or Ottumwa movie theatre's News of the World, which she frequented every Friday. Also, Tate brought her all the salacious gossip from his route.

Tate delivered soda for the Coca-Cola company. His "territory" was south-eastern Iowa. He'd stock grocery stores, gas stations, vending machines and cafes like the one Ivy worked at. Tate had seen more of the world than Ivy could imagine. He'd been born in Denver and stationed in Frankfort, Germany, during the Korean War. (Someone had to protect US army bases from potential Communist uprisings---not everyone could actually fight in Korea.) Tate spoke German, so it was a natural fit.

Tate would tell Ivy about his adventures in Europe and across Iowa. Slowly, Tate and Ivy built a friendship. Neither dared take it "further" that friends, despite wanting one another, thinking and afraid an "adult relationship" could ruin that.

On Wednesdays, when Tate stocked Coco-Cola in Kirkville, Ivy would make sure that the Corner Cafe served German chocolate cake and grilled cheese, his favourite. The two would talk over lunch and cigarettes. Many townspeople objected to Ivy serving German chocolate cake since it had coconut, but Ivy served it anyway...for Tate.

Ivy knew that her daughter, Monica, would be going to college in a few years. Ivy was proud of her daughter for that. Ivy hadn't graduated high school. Steve had been drafted, they'd gotten married, and she'd gotten pregnant with Monica. It had all happened so fast that Ivy hadn't had time to get her diploma. It was something she always regretted, but despite not having a high school diploma Ivy got by. Her daughter would be going to college soon and hoped to be a nurse. That made Ivy proud.

Ames, Iowa, where Iowa State University was located, was a long way from Kirkville, especially since she didn't have a car. She wanted to be near Monica and help her in any way possible. Des Moines seemed as good as any place to live, even if it was a big city!

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Tate Treiber pulled the truck up next to Kirkville's Corner Cafe. He wondered if Ivy would have German chocolate cake and grilled cheese sandwiches today. They were his favourite! It had been a long hot summer day, and he'd had to change a tire along the road. Another day, another dollar, so it went...

Tate knew you had to work if you wanted to get by. It was one of the reasons he'd admired Ivy so much. After her husband had died, Ivy had gone to work. She hadn't wanted any assistance, and she hadn't cried about her misfortunes. Ivy knew she had a five-year-old daughter to take care of, so Ivy had to Sally-forth and got a job.

In some ways, Tate felt sorry for Ivy. She just had her daughter to come home to, a daughter who would soon be leaving to go to college. Ivy would be alone! Still, Ivy had her job and hobbies...she was happy even if she wasn't a Rockefeller.

"What's going on with you, Ivy?" questioned Tate as he wheeled his moving dolly full of Coca-Cola into the Corner Cafe.

"Busy weekend, Tate. I made my pickles for the county fair, and then I took a bike ride and went to see Lady & the Tramp over at The Majestic Movie Theater in Ottumwa. It's the cutest movie. These two dogs fall in love! They have an Italian dinner and kiss over spaghetti. I'd love to go to Italy someday...as a BIG splurge, you know...but it's just a daydream. It'll never happen...money and time. I'm a little bit afraid of flying, and I don't speak Italian. Oh, I could go on and on. You know I've never had spaghetti before. It looks...so exotic.

Anyway, I had a busy week. What about you?" Ivy questioned as she finished cooking the grilled cheese sandwich. After all this time, Ivy knew how Tate liked his grilled cheese, melty but not too melty and with ranch dressing and ketchup.

"Same old, same old---back in Des Moines. My landlady, Mrs. Edna Garrison of Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House, where I live, is getting old. She went to the doctor's; I'm sorta worried about her. She's like a second mother to me, you know." said Tate as he loaded the Coca-Cola into the Corner Cafe's refrigerator.

Ivy gave a sympathetic murmur. A bachelor, Tate lived with five other men in Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House for Respectable Working Men in Des Moines, Iowa. Mrs. Edna Garrison rented rooms and provided meals to her boarders, who were all single men. She didn't put up with liquor, cards or "loose women." She ran a respectable establishment.

"The Wallepo County Fair is next weekend. I'm entering my pickles. You should come down, and we can go to the fair together." said Ivy. She never asked Tate for anything--okay, so maybe she'd asked him for a "free" Coca-Cola now and then. But, when it came to spending time together, Ivy just talked to Tate on Wednesdays.

Ivy's daughter, Monica, wanted to spend the weekend with her fellow teenagers instead of her mother. That made Ivy depressed, but she knew she'd have to let her daughter go sooner or later; after all, Monica would be in college soon.

"That's really sweet, Ivy, and I'd love to, but Mrs. Garrison has another doctor's appointment. I said I'd drive her. I'm really worried for her, you know, she's getting up there. I'm running late on my route. Good luck with your pickles! Another time though." said Tate as he finished scrapping the plate of his German chocolate cake.

"See you next week!" called Ivy. Tate shifted his truck into gear, and Ivy washed the dishes. So she was disappointed. She had no one to go to the County Fair with her. What did it matter, really? Her pickles were in the fair, and she'd see how they'd do. Plus, there was always cotton candy...

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As Tate left the Corner Cafe and Ivy, he contemplated his life. He'd lived at Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House for ten years now. Tate had always meant to do something with his life. 1950s culture was very insistent on people "making the most" of themselves and seizing the day. Despite the GI bill, which would pay for college, Tate hadn't gone. He'd just gotten a job driving for Coca-Cola.

As long as he got his deliveries done, Tate's time was his own. He liked chatting along his route and hearing the hot gossip from all the small towns. Tate liked seeing the seasons change. It was better than being a paper-pusher who sat in an office cubicle longing for a window that would probably only face the office building across the street.

Still, he felt pressured by society to conform to a plastic-fantastic world. He was sorry he couldn't go with Ivy to the Wallepo County Fair. It would be a welcome change to his dull routine. He could have fun for once; plus, he'd get to be with Ivy outside of work. Dismayed with his life, Tate drove on to stock Coca-Cola in the next town. He had to keep keeping on. Tate had a job to do. He had to live his life even if he wasn't particularly fond of it.

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The weekend came. Ivy's boss, Mr. Morrison, had been kind enough to give Ivy the day off. So she slept in till ten, had breakfast and meandered over to the Wallepo County fair. Ivy browsed. She looked at the livestock and entered a $ 3 contest to guess the weight of a Charolais bull calf. The winner of the contest would win a free steak! (The contest was fun for the participants but not for the calf who became the steak.)

Then Ivy meandered over to the Midway section of the fair to look at the rides. They went upside down, and they went really fast. She could never be brave enough to go on one! The HomeGoods competition was starting, so Ivy headed over to watch the judging. To Ivy's surprise, her pickles took first prize! Her pickles were going to the Iowa State Fair in Des Moines!

When they announced it, Ivy jumped up and down, screaming with joy like a little child. She'd won something! She had an accomplishment! Now how to get to Des Moines...there was always the Greyhound Bus, but that would take two days with all the transfers. Maybe she could ask Tate; he lived in Des Moines. Even if he said "no," there was no harm in asking. They were friends, after all.

Ivy was delighted when Tate said he'd take her! She was going to the Iowa State Fair! She was going to a big city! Des Moines, the state capital of Iowa! It had two interstates running through it! Ivy's daughter, Monica, was old enough to take care of herself, so Ivy didn't have to worry. On Wednesday, Tate told Ivy he would drive her to Des Moines and to the Iowa State Fair. She didn't even have to get a hotel. She could stay at Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House with him.

So it was "technically" against company regulations to take people in his truck. But, as far as Tate was concerned, rules and regulations, especially those set forth by enormous corporations who gave no thought for the common man, were made to be broken. Tate was glad to take Ivy to the Iowa State Fair. He'd go, too; he hadn't had fun in a while.

He had to admit her pickles were some of the best he'd ever tasted and wondered what her "secret recipe" was, but Ivy refused to give this up. As long as she gave him jars of pickles, he didn't mind.

Ivy and Tate rode to Des Moines in the Coca-Cola truck. Tate led a simple life, but he remembered Ivy's longing to go to Italy and how she liked the movie Lady and the Tramp. As a surprise, Tate decided to take Ivy to Noah's Ark Italian restaurant, the first Italian restaurant in all of Iowa, which had only opened a few months before. He watched, amused as Ivy tried to eat the "exotic" Italian food of spaghetti by spearing it. Ivy said she'd never had ethnic food before and found it quite challenging to eat.

Tate passed her his napkin and showed her how to eat spaghetti by twisting it on a fork. Tate had barely been able to contain his laughter. But, overall, Ivy had a good time and enjoyed the new experience. She knew spaghetti wasn't for her; all the garlic made it too spicy. She'd enjoyed it, but ultimately, spaghetti was too foreign.

After dinner, Tate and Ivy went to Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House for Respectable Working Men. Mrs. Edna Garrison was sweet enough, but she ran a strict house. Her rules of "No drinking and no women." made it nearly impossible for Tate to date. Mrs. Garrison had tossed men out before for bringing women home.

Tate thought she'd ease up on the rules for him now that he'd lived there for ten years, and she'd always talk about how he should "find a nice girl and settle down." But, Mrs. Garrison remained absolute in her rules when it came to drinking and women. She'd even kicked some of his fellow boarders out if they smelled too much like liquor. She was a tough old thing.

Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House for Respectable Working Men was extremely clean, Mrs. Garrison wouldn't tolerate a speck of dust, but it wasn't "up to date." It was overcrowded with heavy wooded Victorian furniture. Deep but threadbare plush chairs and curtains, electric lamps which only worked part of the time. The house had a radio and an ancient Victrola. Sometimes, Mrs. Garrison would play piano in the evenings.

The tenants yearned for modernization: reliable taps where the water was hot OR cold, new carpeting and electric fans to keep cool in the summer. Maybe even one of those newfangled TVs to watch baseball games during long summer evenings! Despite what her tenants wanted, Mrs. Garrison kept her boarding house the same; after all, if something worked, why change it?

That was why Tate had been astonished that Mrs. Garrison had taken to Ivy. He'd introduced Ivy as his "cousin," but no one had bought that. Everyone knew that Tate had no cousins. To Tate's relief, Mrs. Garrison seemed to know what to do better than Tate did.

"Ivy, we're so glad to have you! It's such a long drive from Kirkville to Des Moines; if you need to rest or shower, there's a key in the hallway. I'm going to open a new room for you. I've just washed the sheets in there, SO I don't want you to worry about that. You'll have to tell me more about Kirkville; my husband had a second cousin who lives there. Do you know Luther Jolsen?"

On and on, Ivy and Mrs. Garrison conversed. True, Ivy wouldn't be able to sleep in the same bed as Tate, but she'd be just down the hall. Tate wasn't sure if he wanted to move that "fast" yet. Was Ivy just a good friend, or was she more? Tate didn't know. He wished he knew what Ivy was feeling. For now, that dinner together would be enough, enough for what...he didn't know. Enough, for now, he supposed. Tate wasn't used to spending time with womenfolk, and Ivy was his friend and a lady. So he took nothing but hoped for more!

The next morning he woke up to a pounding on the door. "Wake up, LAZY BONES, you can't sleep the day away! That nice girl of yours has been up for an hour helping me make breakfast! Don't you know I'm not as young and spry as I used to be? Now get dressed and come down for breakfast!" Mrs. Garrison ordered. Tate thought she could be as mean as his sergeant in the Army. She sure reminded him of one!

"Yes, Mrs. Garrison, right away, Mrs. Garrison," Tate mumbled, half asleep as he struggled to find his pants. Despite the fact Tate was middle-aged, sometimes, Mrs. Garrison treated him like a high school coach would treat a football player. Still, Ivy was up, so he should get up too; she was his guest. He liked the idea that Ivy had made breakfast for him. He'd like her to make breakfast, or at least coffee for him every morning.

Mrs. Garrison went back down to her kitchen and tenets. She glanced around her small dominion like a queen. Every spot was being sat or stood upon by her tenants. Tobacco, scented, coffee-drinking working men occupied her boarding house. None were married, and they needed someone to "look after them". For better or worse, Mrs. Garrison was that person, a second mother to many. Cooking, mending and cleaning, so it went.

"I have blueberry pancakes!" stated Ivy as she sat a platter of blueberry pancakes down on the kitchen table, which was coated with a pretty fruit-patterned tablecloth. Tate hasted to the table; his fellow five boarders had dug into the platter like a pack of wolves. Tate was lucky to get the last two pancakes!

"We're going to the State Fair today," stated Ivy in a vain attempt to make conversation with the men who were scarfing down their food. She received grunts in return as the men continued rapidly eating. They were used to Mrs. Garrison's usual fare of cereal, bad coffee and toast, not exotic things like blueberry pancakes!

"Be sure to go see the butter cow. It's the best thing at the State Fair. A life-size cow made entirely out of butter... there are other butter sculptures, too, if you like art.." said George with his mouthful as he helped himself to more bacon. Ivy automatically poured him another cup of coffee.

"Alright, I'll look into that, but I'm mostly there for the pickle competition," stated Ivy. She was proud of herself! Her pickles had made it all the way to the State championship! Breakfast finished up. They left Mrs. Garrison to do the dishes; Tate and Ivy drove to the Iowa State Fair.

"It's SO big...I've never seen so many people or cars in one place," said Ivy when they reached the fairgrounds. This was the busiest place Ivy had been to had to explore! They visited the animal barn where exotic breeds of cattle like the Belgian Blue (a big muscular cow which would put bodybuilders to shame) and Highland Cow (a Scottish cow with a furry red coat and funky hairdo.) Plus, many more. The Iowa husbandry barn had as many exotic farm animals as a zoo!

After seeing the husbandry barn, Ivy and Tate saw the Butter Cow and got some cotton candy. They found themselves at the Midway, where the rides were located. The rides at the Iowa State Fair were faster and steeper than the ones at the small Wallepo County Fair.

"Come on, Ivy...let's get some tickets and go on the rides! They look so fun! I haven't been on a carnival ride in forever!" said Tate. Maybe it was the cotton candy sugar, but Tate was excited as a little kid. Ivy was scared and cautious of the fast rides; still, Tate had been so kind to bring her. They were having a wonderful time. The least Ivy could do was go on a few rides with him.

"Alright..." Ivy said trepidatiously, smiling at him but quaking with fear inside. The rides were just so tall and fast! How could they even get off the ground?

"Great!" said Tate as he got tickets for the rides. Ivy and Tate got in line for the biggest ride on the fairgrounds, a Free Fallin Drop. It jetted passengers up 100 feet (35 meters) in the air and gradually dropped them down. Ivy was scared out of her mind at the speed of the ride. She grabbed Tate's arm for support. What about her glasses and shoes? What if she puked this far up? What if she fell to her death? It was 100 feet (35 meters) down, and the ride was scary. Ivy wanted to scream for the operator to let her off. The terrifying ride seemed to last forever, but it eventually stopped: although not soon enough for Ivy! Dizzy, she wandered off the ride and threw up on the grass.

"I've never been on anything that intense before. It was just so scary and fast," stated Ivy as she hurled into the grass.