Two Cars in a Cornfield

Two Cars in a Cornfield THERE WERE EIGHT of us, and we all worked hard in our high school classes, played on the teams and kept things normal with outsiders, including our parents, so our secret stayed intact. The girls were Dana, Sylvie, Joanna and Tibby. The guys were Brad, Chase, Tim and me. They caUed me Kipper in those days, a name that came out of the baseball squad, who knows what it meant. Even my father called me that after awhile. My father also seemed concerned about who my steady girl might be. One night at supper he started again, saying, "Okay, I think Dana's your best gal, am I right?" "We're all just good friends," I explained. "You know, for all the movies and ball games. We don't want to get serious." "That's perfectly smart of you," my mother put in. "True, you don't want anything compUcated," my father admitted, drawing on his heavier baritone, the voice he sometimes used at town meetings. "Real friendship is wonderful," said my mother. "You're aU inteUi- gent kids. Romantic love is probably a sUly idea to you." I nodded with reUef. The roast beef that night was cooked rare, the best cut. We http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

Two Cars in a Cornfield

The Missouri Review, Volume 20 (1) – Oct 5, 1997

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

THERE WERE EIGHT of us, and we all worked hard in our high school classes, played on the teams and kept things normal with outsiders, including our parents, so our secret stayed intact. The girls were Dana, Sylvie, Joanna and Tibby. The guys were Brad, Chase, Tim and me. They caUed me Kipper in those days, a name that came out of the baseball squad, who knows what it meant. Even my father called me that after awhile. My father also seemed concerned about who my steady girl might be. One night at supper he started again, saying, "Okay, I think Dana's your best gal, am I right?" "We're all just good friends," I explained. "You know, for all the movies and ball games. We don't want to get serious." "That's perfectly smart of you," my mother put in. "True, you don't want anything compUcated," my father admitted, drawing on his heavier baritone, the voice he sometimes used at town meetings. "Real friendship is wonderful," said my mother. "You're aU inteUi- gent kids. Romantic love is probably a sUly idea to you." I nodded with reUef. The roast beef that night was cooked rare, the best cut. We

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Oct 5, 1997

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