Bray laughs and rolls his eyes.
“I’m serious, Bray. I’ll give you three months to find something else to do with your life, but you’re not around next season.”
My stomach turns over at Dad’s expression. He’s completely calm, but I’ve seen his expression when he’s playing a prank, and he’s not wearing it.
What is going on?
“As if, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.”
“That goes for you too,” he says, nodding at me.
“Me?” I say, my voice verging on hysterical. “What did I do?”
“And you both need to think about getting your own places.”
“Dad,” Bray and I say in unison.
“What the hell’s going on?” Bray asks.
Then it hits me. The business can’t afford both of us anymore. And he’s probably going to take in boarders at the house to make it work financially.
“And I’ve taken out a loan,” he says.
I’m on my feet before I’ve had a chance to digest what he’s saying. “What kind of loan? How much for? We can’t afford loan payments. What are you?—”
“For the freezing operation. I think it’s a good idea.”
Bray and I exchange a glance. Has Dad got some kind of brain issue? Like, is he suffering from dementia? I half want to start looking up symptoms, but need to brace myself for the next bomb Dad is going to drop.
“So you need the money you’d normally pay us in salaries to make the loan payments?” I ask.
My dad shakes his head. “No. I’ve looked into it. I can get most of the equipment on lease. But I’ll need some modifications to the barn.”
“So why are we fired?” Bray asks. “We’ve been the ones who were pushing the freezing operation, and now that you’re going ahead with it, you’re going to fire us? What the fuck, Dad? And we’re going to be homeless. Where are we supposed to live?”
Dad sighs and glances down into his lap. “I’ve done a terrible job at being a father to the two of you.”
“No you haven’t.” I reach for Dad’s arm and he covers it with his hand, patting me. “You’re a terrific dad.”
“Most of the time,” Bray says. “When you’re not firing us. Do you have our replacements lined up or what? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. Get a bar job at Grizzly’s? I don’t think they need anyone. And anyway, I can’t think of anything worse than being stuck inside pouring people drinks. I love being outside. I love working with the people we have, seeing all the fruit that we’ve grown piled into boxes, knowing that it’s going to feed people—provide people with the nutrition they need to survive. Ilovemy job.”
Dad huffs out a laugh. “Son, I never knew you thought so deeply about it.”
“I never had to until I was fired.”
Dad shakes his head. “I’ve relied on the two of you far too heavily. Maybe that was okay in the beginning, after your mom died, but I should have let you both go a long time ago.” He pullsin a breath. “I’ve prioritized the needs of the farm over the needs of my children.” His voice wobbles as he finishes his sentence and I scoot closer to him.
“What are you talking about, Dad?”
“Neither of you went to college. You’ve never left this town. You’ve never experienced anything other than this farm. I want you both to experience the world. See what’s out there. If then you want to come back to Wilde’s Farm, that’s another thing.”
“Are you serious?” Bray asks. “I never wanted to go to college. I always loved the farm. It’s where I’ve wanted to work since I’ve been five years old.”
“You’ve never known anything else,” Dad replies.
“Maybe I don’t need to. I knew I didn’t want to fight in the Army, even though I’d never done it. I know I don’t ever want to own a fucking cat, even though I never have. I love this farm. I love my job and… yeah, well, maybe moving out might be a good idea. It might be nice to have a place of my own.”
Bray gets up from his chair and comes to sit on the cushion the other side of Dad. He slings an arm around his shoulders. “But I wouldn’t want to leave you.”
