Cierra’s mom and sister were already waiting in the train station parking lot when she arrived. After opening the door of the dark blue Subaru, Cierra got in the passenger seat and was greeted with a massive hug from her mom. Lisa patted her shoulder from the back seat.
When they pulled into the driveway, Cierra realized Skittles were the only thing she had eaten all day; sounds coming from her stomach alerted her before her brain had caught up. She got through the door, and Jess, Lisa’s wife, came through, offering a big hug as well.
“Sure you only want to stay until Sunday?” she asked.
“Oh, you know she has her job to get back to and her busy life in the city.” Cierra’s mom always emphasizedthe citylike it was some magical land and not a cement jungle half covered in heaping piles of trash.
Cierra paused at the mention of her work. “Um, I don’t have a job to get back to. Not right now.”
Her family looked at her, puzzled. This time, it was Lisa who broke the silence. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I quit my job at Terra.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Lisa blew out a breath. “That’s a lot of change all at once.”
“I feel like they worked you too hard there,” Cierra’s mom chimed in. “And some of your coworkers were a little snooty.”
Cierra’s family had come to Terra a couple of times to show support, but they weren’t exactly the types to feel comfortable in a place like that. Once, when they asked a server what the warm lemon water bowls were for at the beginning of a meal, the server said a little mockingly, “Uh, to wash up?” Cierra’s mom had never really gotten over it.
“So, what’s the new gig?” Jess asked excitedly.
“Well”—Cierra rubbed her fingers together—“I have a couple of offers, so I’m taking the weekend to decide which one is best, long term, you know.”
Her mom placed a dainty hand over her daughter’s wrist. “Well, that is just excellent to hear. You always make it work, don’t you? You know what, I think this is all really exciting. And a new job might be just what you need. I’m so proud of you for making a change. You should’ve been running that place the whole time.”
Jess interjected, “So, what happened with Harry?” The question of the hour. Cierra’s mom and sister both looked at her with concern, but she just shrugged her shoulders.
“I really don’t know,” Cierra said. And unlike her previous answer about her job, that was the truth.
“Was it you . . . or . . . ?” her mom asked, trying her best not to pry.
“He was the one who initiated it, but it was pretty mutual,” Cierra lied. Her family all nodded in willing agreement to the farce. “I think we just outgrew each other. We want different things out of life . . .” Her voice broke off; she really didn’t want to cry again.
Her mom rubbed her upper back. “No worries, sweetie. No need to get into it all right now.” Cierra gave her a grateful smile, and her stomach let out another growl, which broke the somber moment. “Oh, my, you must be hungry.”
“She certainly looks hungry,” Lisa chimed in. “What’s that saying about skinny chefs?”
Cierra’s mom waved Lisa off and said, “Want me to grab something? I can see if we’ve got anything in the fridge. Or maybe I could pick up some burgers?”
While Cierra had nothing against fast food, she wasn’t in the mood for anything super greasy. “How about I make a KitchenSink?” she said. “I’m sure you have more than enough for me to work with.”
“Well, honey, I think that sounds great. Sure you’re up for it? We’re not trying to put you to work,” her mom said.
“I’m sure,” Cierra replied. In her family, “Kitchen Sink” described the meals Cierra created solely from random leftover ingredients in the fridge and pantry. It was probably her first experience with proper cooking and had introduced her to experimenting with various flavors, textures, and whatnot. Cierra learned at an early age that limited resources had a way of leading to creativity.
“I’ll keep you company,” Lisa said, following her little sister into the retro kitchen, complete with fruit-patterned wallpaper and a white refrigerator. Lisa made herself a hot black tea and perched on the same beige kitchen island they’d done their homework on as kids.
While Cierra unloaded various leftovers and random veggies from the fridge, Lisa looked at her expectantly. “So, where are you deciding between? You must have moved really fast after you quit your job.”
Cierra was half listening and half trying to figure out which things went best together out of fresh cilantro, Worcestershire sauce, a zucchini, cabbage, and leftover pork chops. She’d need to think more about it — this was going to be a challenge.
“Uh yeah, well, you know, just using some connections. It wasn’t too difficult.”
Liar.
“Mm. Well, that’s good,” Lisa said casually. She blew on her mug before fixing her eyes on her younger sister, this time with a more serious look. “Cee, I haven’t pressed you because I know you’re going through it, but what’s good with these loan payments, sis? I got three emails about missed payments.”
Cierra froze in place and stared at her sister, ashamed and unequipped to answer with a viable solution. Lisa had only cautiously agreed to co-sign on Cierra’s culinary school loans, and Cierra had barely been making the payments with her salary at Terra. And that was with Harry’s subsidies.
