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“Marcella. Put the snake down.” Stiff and unsmiling, F-man maintains his distance as though I’m holding something venomous. “It’s trying to bite you.”
I point the little guy’s primed open mouth at F-man. I have it by the neck and wrapped around my wrist, so it’s physically unable to bite me. “So? It’ll feel like a lizard bite. No big deal.” I grin. “Rawr.”
Heat skates to F-man’s cheeks. “I did think it odd you were so excited about a corn maze.”
“Corn mazes are corn fields. Corn fields have corn snakes. Corn snakes are very pretty. I used to catch snakes and lizards and all sorts of things in the backyard with my dad. He’d always tell me I had to save as many critters as I could before he mowed the lawn, as though they wouldn’t move out of the way.” Petting the little snake’s soft orange head, I chuckle. “Man, I was a dumb kid.”
F-man inches toward me. “How do you know this is a corn snake?”
“Because it’s a corn snake?” I judge him when he pokes the snake’s body. “It’s very obviously a corn snake. Have you never seen a corn snake before?”
“Not like this.”
I tut. “What a sad childhood you must have had. Want to hold him before I put him back?”
To my surprise, he nods, so I carefully pass the teen noodle over, making sure F-man has a good grasp on its head as its body securely winds around his hand. They stare at one another for many pregnant moments. I don’t think I’ve ever seen F-man more still, careful, or cautiously interested.
“It’s pretty,” he murmurs. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
I cross my arms. “I know you aren’t asking me to look at this snake’s butt.”
The red in F-man’s face heightens to a blaze as his attention lifts. “You can’t tell by the coloration, like with birds?”
“’Fraid not. There are some size differences between male and female adults, but this is a teenager, and it’s not a for sure thing anyway.” Lifting its tail, I check its sex then murmur, “He’s a little gentleman. If I could take him home, I’d give him a tiny top hat and bow tie, I would.” The little guy opens his mouth to strike again when I try to pat his tiny head. “Mind your manners, little gentleman. We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Why can’t you bring him home?”
“Huh?”
Painfully sincere, F-man says, “We can make a stop at a pet store and get him a cage if you want to keep him.”
“First of all, we’d have to get him a vivarium. Not a cage. Second of all, wild snakes can have parasites. Not to mention that we’re severely stressing him out just with this brief interaction. Oh yeah, and look at this.” I throw my arm out at the corn stalks waving in the tepid breeze all around us. Sun dances off the yellow tassels and green leaves. “All of this is his house right now. It would be very mean to put him in even the best vivarium money can buy. No. I can’t bring a wild snake home.” I ease him out of F-man’s hand and let him free at the base of a corn row. In moments, he’s gone. “No snake for me. Goodbye, little gentleman.”
“You know an awful lot about snakes,” F-man comments as I start back the way we came.
“You should know more about snakes. It’s important to value the animals that most people don’t, like snakes, possums, and spiders… They’re our front soldiers against a lot of pests that cause diseases. Even though so few people like them…they’re working hard to keep the ecosystem in check. I appreciate what they do for us.”
F-man watches me for several, silent moments—almost entranced—but as we pass his bodyguard sentries, he seems to forget we’re having a very fun conversation. “Are we heading toward the entrance?”
“Yup.”
“You don’t want to finish the maze?”
I scoff. “Absolutely not. For most mazes if you follow one wall, you reach the end eventually. Which means it’s just an exercise scam. I got my snake fix. Now, I require pie.” Stopping in my tracks, I recall my manners and cast a look back at my for-all-intents-and-purposes boyfriend. “Unless…of course…you enjoy exercise scams and want to see if we can find more snakes up ahead? I mean, see if we can reach the other side?”
Chuckling, he shakes his head. “No, that’s all right.” When he makes it to my side, he splays his fingers near me. “May we hold hands on the way back?”
My lip involuntarily curls.
His expression warms. “I thought you might say that.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I mutter. “Don’t tell me my general disposition spoke for me? It has a habit of doing that. Rotten thing doesn’t possess an inside voice.”
He pulls a cloth out of his pocket. “Good thing I planned ahead.”
I stare at him, then at the eggshell kerchief between his fingers. “Are you…going to cry?”
Twisting the cloth into a rope, he offers one end to me and smiles.
