Before I can remind them thatcausing a scene, as they put it, is what’s bankrolling our lives these next two weeks, I get distracted by Dad firing up his laptop at the kitchen counter after connecting it to a cable that fits in the uniquely shaped jack in the wall.
“I thought we didn’t have Wi-Fi here,” I say.
“We don’t. But we have dial-up,” Dad says as he waits for his computer to turn on. “Luckily I had enough sense to pack dial-up cables.”
I glance at Gavin for clarification, but he looks just as lost as I am.
Gavin furrows his brows. “But I thought we couldn’t use the internet.”
“It’s the old-fashioned way to access the internet. The connection goes through the landline, which doesn’t disrupt the radio frequency,” Mom explains while Dad types on his keyboard.
I only understood about half of that, but I don’t care. All I heard was that we have internet access. Things are not as dire as they seemed. Gavin must be thinking the same thing, since we’re both hovering over Dad’s laptop.
On the speaker it sounds like a series of numbers is being pushed on a phone, and then there’s a short ring before a god-awful static fills the air. I flinch at the sound, plugging my ears. A second later Dad beams. “Ta-da. Internet.” He opens up a Google tab and types a web address on the keyboard, then we wait. And wait. And wait some more.
“Nothing’s happening. Why is nothing happening?” I begin to panic.
“Is it frozen?” Gavin asks. “Should we restart it?”
“No, definitely don’t restart it.” Dad hovers protectively over the computer.
“Then what is it? What’s the problem?” I ask.
“Just be patient. This is how dial-up works.” Mom tries to calm us down. “It’s not high-speed, but it’s something.”
It doesn’t make sense at first, but it starts to sink in as we watch the page load line by line. About a decade later the website is up. I celebrate too soon, however. It takes another decade for the documents Dad needs for the appeal to download. After the last line loads, I finally make my move.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mom eyes me, wedging her way in front of the laptop.
I let out a squeak of annoyance. “You said I couldn’t call Kiki, but you didn’t say anything about email.”
“Elena, in case you haven’t noticed, it requires a lot of effort to use the internet here. We have to reserve it for business matters only,” Mom chides me.
“But what about my business affairs?” My brows furrow.
Mom, Dad, and Gavin stare at me with a shared look that’s all too familiar.
“My laptop is for essential business only,” Dad says, typing in another web address in the tab.
Of course when they discuss their business matters, it’s considered essential. However, my request to talk to my brand manager is dismissed as frivolous. Typical.
“What’s Ih-khee-ah?” I say, sounding out the big block letters that pop up on the screen.
“IKEAis a furniture store. Don’t you know anything?” Gavin rolls his eyes.
“Sorry for not knowing, like, all the furniture stores.” I glare at him. “Why can’t we just order the same stuff we had from Restoration Hardware? Don’t we have enough money—I’m sorry, I mean, don’tIhave enough money—to pay for that, at least? I did make ten thousand dollars at my last event. And the cost of living can’t be that high here. Now,thatwould be criminal.”
Mom and Dad wince. I’ve noticed they do this anytime it’s mentioned that we’re living off of money I earned as an influencer. Like it’s drug money or something.
“No point,” Dad says, recovering quickly. “We’re not going to be here long, and we’re only going to get the necessities. Mattresses, tableware, and kitchen chairs.” He motions around the empty room.
“For all the meals we eat together?” I can’t help but snort at the notion of it.
“Now that we’re being stripped of everything, we’re going to be doing a lot of family dinners,” Mom says, as though it’s a punishment.
We haven’t had a family dinner since Gavin moved out almost two years ago. And even then it wasn’t like we couldn’t find the time to meet up. Gavin only moved downtown, less than an hour away from home. Maybe it was because of Dad’s late nights at the office or my paid appearances becoming more frequent. Or maybe it was because of Mom’s latest charity she’d be involved in or Gavin’s relationship with Sonya. But regardless of what the excuse was, there was always an excuse. Because when it comes down to it, having dinner as a family was never a priority for any of us.
After we select our furniture—thoughselectis too generous a word; it’s more likesettle onsince the pages took so long to load that we just picked the first items that appeared—Dad signs off(whatever that means) and closes his computer. The cost of the furniture didn’t amount to much, so we decided to splurge on next-day shipping. Small wins.
