They ignore his advice. At 6'4" and 235 pounds Darryl is as strong as Clayton, and they simply pick the refrigerator up as if it were a sack of potatoes, walk it through several rooms and out the front door, then set it in the bed of their father's pickup.
While that is being done, Olan is asked if Clayton will change, if the glamour of the NFL will get to him. Olan says, gravely, "I tell dat boy, you let your neck get bigger, not your head."
Back at his house Clayton relaxes on the couch while Diane brings him another plastic cup and says, about the snuff, "He's going to lose his lip one of these days." She asks again when he's going to spade her up a vegetable garden. "Aw, you're pregnant," he says. "You don't need to be working in a garden."
"Some farmer," she says.
It's almost dark, and Clayton is content to sit and talk, resigned now to the fact that he won't be able to get in any more plowing. Besides, he has to fly to Boston the next day to accept a Patriot Rookie of the Year award from the Pats' booster club.
"You know what's funny?" he says. "Sometimes I'll be riding along on that tractor and I'll look down at the cotton and think, dang, some guy in England might someday be wearing a shirt made out of this very cotton I'm growing here. Or maybe it'll be part of a sheet for somebody's bed in Tokyo. I guess they use sheets in Japan."
He wrinkles his brow, still trying to explain the appeal of Wall—why he gave serious thought to passing up pro football in favor of staying down on the farm. "It's not just the farming," he says. "A lot of it is the quality of life here in Wall. And it's not real big things. Just little stuff. Like two or three nights a week people will come by or we'll go over to their house and play dominoes. And these are all people you grew up with. They know you and you know them. So you don't have to do a lot of explaining about yourself, because they already know. Man, do you know that most of those folks in Foxboro never even heard of Moon or Forty-two [which are domino games]? That's the kind of stuff I'm talking about."
And it's other things. It's going down to the cotton gin on rainy mornings and drinking coffee and talking shop with the other farmers. It's the informal life in Wall, where Weishuhn can drive up unannounced in anyone's front yard and the door will pop open and he'll get a warm greeting before he even gets out of his pickup. It's the feeling of knowing exactly who he is and where he is and the importance of what he's doing.
It's little things, like, in the summer, when Weishuhn and his father and his brothers are out in the fields and Diane and Marlene and his brothers' wives bring lunch out to them. And they get off their tractors and gather around the bed of a pickup and eat and laugh and talk.
It's the dances he and Diane go to at the community hall of the Catholic church. It's being able to take off and go fishing of an afternoon whenever he wants.