It's a Jungle Out There

Later, when Jasmine and I were alone, she told me that her big brother was kind of wild and had a few run-ins with the law. It sounds like he had inherited the property from their mother's third husband who had died of a heart attack.

She also told me that Claude was very protective of her. I thought about that. Even though Claude was not my type of person I was glad that he took care of Jasmine.

Jasmine and my relationship grew stronger. We were together a lot. I realized that we had completely different upbringings and different attitudes about our lives and the world. Deep down I had strong morals and believed in the disciplined model my parents had set for me.

Jasmine was raised with no biological father and several different stepfathers. Her brother ran with a rough crowd in high school and I got the feeling that Jasmine was on the fringes of that crowd too. I was pretty sure I was getting an edited version of her life and that she may have omitted several of the more outrageous chapters.

Despite our different upbringings for the most part we got along quite well. We didn't always agree on things and when that happened we'd agree to disagree. I told myself that our differences helped each other to broaden our life horizons. She pushed me to expand my boundaries a bit and I wanted her to calm down a little and inject a little discipline.

There were a few times I saw an angry aggressive side of Jasmine. For example, the type of anger directed at another driver in a road rage type of outburst. A few times they were focused toward me. This always ended quickly, but I would get a brief look at a side of Jasmine I didn't often see. It bothered me.

Weeks turned into months for us and before we knew it the semester was up. I spent the Summer as an intern with the University Ag Department. Jasmine stayed in her apartment that Summer and worked at Papaya. Normally she worked days in the coffee shop, but occasionally she worked in the bar. We were basically living together.

On some of the nights she worked at Papaya I would stop by, sit at the bar and wait for her to get off. I would observe the patrons of the bar. They were definitely a rougher crowd. There was a cheapness to the girls and a predatory nature to the men. Often Claude Francis was there at a back table with the tattooed Armon. Claude was always friendly with me but there was something about him I did not trust. I was never quite comfortable around him.

Another thing that bothered me was the way some of the customers seemed overly friendly with Jasmine. An arm around her waist as she was taking an order, a pat on the ass, or too close a hug, all things that in my opinion was way too familiar for a female in a committed relationship.

When I would bring this up with Jasmine she would shrug it off.

"That's just what happens to a girl working in a bar sometimes." She would say to me, The casualness of her reply about something I held sacred, her physical body, bothered me and I knew it was something we would eventually need to discuss.

Another thing that happened that Summer was that I missed the deadline for the university's study abroad program. I have to say that my relationship with Jasmine interfered with my motivation to apply for the programs. Later, when I reflected that sometimes you need to sacrifice your own personal desires when in a relationship, I couldn't quite find satisfaction in that answer.

I really did have a strong desire to study abroad, and now as I entered my senior year of college I had let that opportunity slip away. That thought troubled me.

Jasmine's and my relationship was steady and comfortable my senior year. Jasmine seemed to be taking something less than a full load of classes this year and she never seemed to spend much time on homework. On the other hand my senior year was an important year for me educationally and between my work in the research department at the university and my regular classes, I was busy.

Jasmine had met my family on a trip we took at the end of the Summer to Benton. It was almost like observing two entirely different species. Jasmine was attractive and flamboyant. Her frosted hair, her makeup, her stylish and sometimes sexy clothing compared starkly with my family.

My mother wore no makeup nor did many of the people in our farming community. My family's clothes were far from new and were functional, not stylish. Shapeless drab clothing that served a purpose, not designed to enhance the attractiveness of the wearer.

Despite that my family was warm and polite towards Jasmine. Jasmine, I do believe, truly appreciated some of the simplicity of our lifestyle and even commented about some of the positives of a farm life. She wasn't suggesting we move to Benton and plant corn and wheat but I do believe she had a little broader understanding of that type of lifestyle after meeting my family.

Much later, I reflected that perhaps I was trying to get her to understand there was more to life than some of the superficial things she seemed to value. I was trying to save her, help her temper her more spontaneous lifestyle.

On the other hand she opened me up to a much different view of the world than I had experienced growing up. This broadened my life experiences and showed me a more exciting glimpse of a different world. And talk about exciting, our sex life just kept getting better and better.

The sex was great and much of our time together was spent in her bed in the apartment above Papaya. After my somewhat repressed sexual experiences before I had met Jasmine, I was now making up for lost time.

Occasionally when we would have a disagreement or some small conflict Jasmine would use sex to patch us back together. This always worked and whatever problem we encountered became secondary to the making up. The problem, I later reflected was that we never truly addressed the issues.

During Winter break I went home to Benton to spend the holidays with my family. This was always a happy time for us and we'd get together at my family home with friends and relatives. There were decorations at the house, music was played, and delicious food was served.

For us though, Christmas truly had a spiritual meaning. And as we attended church services I believe our entire family became more cloaked in the true religious nature of the season.

It was during this time my father, somewhat uncharacteristically, asked if I'd take a walk with him.

"Owen," he began, a little awkwardly, "are you still spending as much time with your lady friend, Jasmine?" He asked.

I recall when my dad and I had the birds and the bees talk. A little uncomfortable, and I think we were both relieved when he was done with that discussion. This talk had that same necessary but uncomfortable tone.

"Yes," I replied, "Jasmine and I are together." I told him.

We walked silently for a bit, it was like my dad was processing this small kernel of information.

"Now son," he said, a touch more seriously, "as a young man I know you have desires and she is a pretty young woman. But, intercourse before marriage is a sin."

"Dad," I began, trying to slow the course of this discussion.

"Owen," he said with his sternest voice, "just hear me out. If you feel strong enough about this young woman to share your most intimate gift, I would expect you would feel strong enough about her to do the right thing and marry her."

"You're almost done with college and your adult life is about to start. The way we raised you was to always do your best and do the right thing. Part of my job as your father is to help you look at the world with some of the knowledge I've acquired." He continued.

"Son," he said, putting his arm affectionately over my shoulder as we walked, "it's your life, you get to make your own choices, but I just want you to think about the steps that you take, and every time you take that next step just make sure you're heading in the right direction."

And that's all he said.

I thought about his words as we trudged along that country road. Why shouldn't I marry Jasmine? She had brought me more joy, happiness and pleasure than I had ever experienced. Sure we had our differences but I told myself those differences would make us stronger together.

A few days later I was loading up to head back to Taft. I gave everyone a hug goodbye and words of endearment were spoken in parting. All the way back to college I thought more and more about my conversation with my Dad.

With these thoughts I entered Winter term at Taft. I had been encouraged to apply for a post graduate research job at the university. This would be a paid position and I enjoyed my part time work I had been doing. I would do the same type of research, I'd just be paid better.

One night Jasmine and I were talking in her apartment.

"What do you plan on doing once you graduate?" I asked Jasmine.

"I'm really not sure what I'm going to do." She said, "I wouldn't mind moving somewhere warm, California, Florida, someplace like that."

I got to thinking, what if she decided to move? My life was here, and if I took the research position it would stay here.

Over the next few weeks I began to consider what my life would be without Jasmine. I decided that I didn't want that, I wanted her.

That thought coupled with the words my Dad shared with me combined to help me come to the conclusion that I wanted to marry Jasmine.

I rationalized that some of the concerns I had about her, we as a married couple, would overcome. I thought about my parents' marriage and how tight a unit they were. That's what I wanted for Jasmine and me.

It was a few weeks later, Jasmine and I were having dinner in a small cafe in town.

"Jasmine," I began, "you have made me so happy over this past year. You have shared your life, your world, and your body with me. I want to be with you forever." I reached into my pocket and retrieved the ring.

Handing her the box I said, "Jasmine, will you marry me?"

She looked at me as if she wasn't sure I was serious. She held the box but had not yet opened it. She stared at me, a puzzled half smile on her face, as if she didn't quite comprehend what I'd just asked her.

""You want to get married to me?" She finally said to me with that still puzzled expression on her face.

"Yes." I said to her, staring deep into her eyes.

At last she opened the box and put on the ring. She looked at me, and then looked at the ring on her finger, many emotions reflected in her face.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

I nodded still staring, awaiting an answer.

She took a deep breath, looked at the ring again, and then looked at me.

"Sure," she said, "why not." She added with a shrug and a smile..

On one hand I was glad she said yes. On the other hand, this is supposed to be a huge emotional life milestone. Jasmine was treating it a bit casually.

Oh well, I thought, just another difference between the two of us. Bottom line, she said yes.

One of the things on our pre-marriage to-do list was to get our legal affairs conjoined in preparation to becoming husband and wife. There was no prenuptial agreement but we did make a simple will. We also bought small life insurance policies, if anything happened to me I wanted to make sure Jasmine and any future children were taken care of.

Over the next few months wedding planning dominated our discussions. I realized partway through Winter term Jasmine had dropped out of college. When I asked her about it she told me she'd re-enroll in the Fall. This bothered me but I kept it to myself.

One of the wedding challenges was the differences in our families. I've described my religious, humble, hard working family. Jasmine's family were quite a bit free-er of spirit. Drinking, smoking, perhaps some drug use, these were all common habits amongst the Duval's.

Though the wedding ceremony would take place in a local church the reception would be at Papaya. The dichotomy between the two venues was symbolic of the cultural differences of our two families. I decided to not think too deeply about all this, and just enjoy the event.

And I did.

Surprisingly there were no major incidents. My family seemed to be in slight awe of the environment at Papaya but no one criticized or acted judgemental about the social diversity.

Midway through the reception I was talking with my mother.

"Jasmine's family is quite colorful." She commented without even the slightest hint of criticism in her voice.

I just hugged my mom and said, "they sure are."

Later, I had another conversation, this time it was with Claude Francis. My relationship with Jasmine's brother had progressed, I guess, but I was still wary of him. He had this large bullying attitude all designed to get what he wanted. He had never done anything specifically to me, but bottom line, I did not trust him.

But he was her brother. He cared about her and was protective of her. And I was glad of that.

"Congratulations Owen," Claude said to me and wrapped me in a big bear hug, squeezing me almost to the level of pain.

"Thank you Claude," I said "I love your sister and want to provide a good life for her," I told him with honest sincerity.

He stared at me nodding his head almost like he was assessing my words, judging the truthfulness of my statement.

He slung his meaty arm across my back, his hand resting on the nape of my neck.

"Good, good." He said. "You know she never had a real father. I'm the closest thing she has to something like that. And I take that responsibility seriously." He said, the sound of his voice edging away from the previous more positive tone.

"You take good care of her, got that?" He said a bit of harshness in his voice and a final painful squeeze to my neck as he mingled away.

I stood silently for a moment thinking of Claude Francis's words. That almost sounded like a threat I thought.

At first married life was not terribly different from our lives before the wedding. We lived in Jasmine's apartment above Papaya. I wanted to save money to buy a house or some land as soon as possible. The cheap rent would help us with that.

I kept expecting to feel different or find some type of change in our lives now that we were officially married, but no, things felt pretty much the same.

At least for a while.

I insisted that Jasmine re-enroll for Fall term. She agreed but there was not much enthusiasm. I tried slowly and carefully to install some disciplines in Jasmine's life. Studying more, drinking less, occasionally attending church, just small things to have a more enriched life.

This was all done, at first, good-naturedly, her reply would often be to me "Yes Dad". And we'd chuckle about it. Somewhere along the way, late in our first year of marriage things began to change. The good natured reminders turned to accusations of nagging. The slight philosophical differences weren't broadening both of our horizons, they were creating an ever so slight chasm between us.

Another thing I was growing to resent was her hanging out at Papaya. She still worked there part time often during the day at the coffee shop, but also occasionally in the bar at night. The bar scene was quite free, anything seemed to go. It certainly could be described as on the edge of moral turpitude.

I had described the overly friendly actions of some of the customers and this continued to bother me. But what bothered me even more was the fact that Jasmine sometimes would hang out at the bar when she wasn't working. This was another point of disagreement between us.

Right around the time when some of our marital problems became a little sharper my job situation began to change. Despite the challenges and problems with Jasmine, work for me was going very well. My job in the research arm of the college was focused on increased agricultural production.

Our goal was to get more yield out of the same land. We were developing the idea of hybrid crops which could rejuvenate the soil with certain genetic differences. We could make small changes each season so the soil could be revitalized with the hybrid product.

The college had some acres of farmland in a trust where these experiments could be tested. As my research progressed and we were getting positive early reports on some of the results it became clear that I would need to be on site on a regular basis.

The challenge was that the land was over two hundred miles away. Over a three hour drive each way. There was a small farmhouse with working plumbing and electricity, but beyond that there were few frills at the farmhouse. There was also a greenhouse on the property that acted as the lab.

I remember first coming home to tell Jasmine about the progress of my research and the next step, actually implementing the theory of increased productivity on actual farmland.

"This can help monumentally with productivity," I excitedly explained to Jasmine, "if we can increase yield by twenty per cent that could have a major impact on our food supply." I told her.

"Sounds good," she replied as she studied her phone. Clearly my enthusiasm had not rubbed off on her.

"Jaz," I said, "this is important to me. I want you to share in my life," I told her.

At the change in my tone she looked at me smiled and said, "Owen, I am happy for you, it's just that sometimes I don't understand all of it."

I nodded at her statement. Sure, agricultural research is pretty dry, but I thought spouses were supposed to be interested in what the other was doing?

"So anyway," I continued, "starting next month I will be down at the farm in Blackstock for three days every other week."

"So you'll be overnight?" She asked.

I told her yes, it was way too far to come home every night, but she could come with me if she could arrange her schedule in a particular week. Jasmine didn't reply to this; she just stared off into space thinking private thoughts.

During this time there were certainly positive moments in our relationship but there were also other times that were not as positive. I tried to be open to compromising on certain things where we disagreed but the fun loving freedom of the time during our engagement and the early part of marriage was becoming hard to recapture.

My first trip to the college farm in Blackstock was a positive experience. I worked probably twelve hours each day. I was excited about the research and nearly oblivious to my surroundings. I did not notice the near primitive living conditions or the absence of normal comforts such as a television. I was immersed in my work.

When I returned Friday afternoon I was excited to tell Jasmine all about my trip. I found her in the bar at Papaya talking to one of the bartenders, Dennis Libby. It was early and the evening's craziness hadn't yet begun. Dennis was one of the few decent people that worked at Papaya. I learned he worked at the bar, but was also a student, part way to getting his bachelor's degree. Not like that creep, the owner, Armon, I thought.

I noticed that Claude Francis wasn't there and for some reason I was relieved to know that. I sat with Jasmine and Dennis brought me a beer. I talked with great enthusiasm of my trip to Blackstock and the progress I had made. Dennis seemed interested and pleasantly asked me about my research. I begged Jasmine to go with me in two weeks. She reluctantly agreed. I really thought it was important that our lives were co-mingled.

Our trip together to Blackstock was a disaster. And it was mostly my fault. I made the mistake of projecting my interest in my research as something that Jasmine would be interested in. She wasn't. Though it hadn't registered with me, the small farmhouse was kind of a dump. It was situated in the midst of corn and soybean fields. Furthermore there was not even a working television.