The next morning, despite waking up in Blaire, the sun still shines and time marches on. Apparently I was wrong. Living in Blaire for the unforeseeable future is not the end of the world.
I eventually muster up enough energy to get out of bed. A quick glance around tells me Gavin is in the bathroom and my parents are outside. In the kitchen I find a film-covered plate of breakfast on the table. Today it’s an egg omelet with a tangy sauce drizzled on top. Knowing it’s going to be the best and only good part of the day, I savor every single bite. That is, until I’m rudely interrupted.
“What?” I hiss at Gavin, who is now lurking in the kitchen with his lips curled up at the corners.
“Nothing. It just seems like you’re enjoying breakfast.” And there it is again—a creepy smile.
“What’s with the smirk?” I stare at my plate skeptically. “Did you lace it with something?”
“El, I need to tell you about something,” he says somewhat seriously, which gets my attention.
“I think I know what you’re going to tell me.”
“You do?” He seems nervous and slightly embarrassed, which is understandable if this is what I think it’s about.
“Yeah,” I say. “I saw the Rogaine in your bag of toiletries.”
“What?” His head jerks back. “That’s not what I was going to tell you! And that’s preventative—” He stops himself, drawing in a calming breath.
“Then what is it about?” I ask, more confused than before. The Rogaine was a pretty big deal to me when I discovered it.
“Honestly I was just trying to make conversation. But forget it.”
Make conversation? What’s his deal?
After he leaves the room, I eat the rest of my breakfast in the privacy of a Gavin-free space. No sense in wasting good food. As soon as I clear my plate, I’m summoned outside.
While Mr.Ahn is working on filing for bankruptcy, Mom and Dad are home for the next few days, and they waste no time getting to work on the house. Which, due to recent events, makes sense, since this istheirretirement plan. What doesn’t make sense is why Gavin and I are involved in their plans.
“Now that our future is less certain, we have to find a way to monetize this farm. And we all have to pitch in.”
“You want us to be farmers permanently?” I flail. Haven’t we suffered enough?
“I thought this was for your retirement. Nottheretirement plan.” Gavin is as shocked as I am. “Don’t you have a 401(k) or a Roth IRA?”
“Aside from your college funds, I’m not sure what the IRS will determine we can keep,” Dad says. “But don’t worry. I’m sure whatever we’re left with, we’ll be fine,” he quickly adds. “And it’s a good thing no one’s responded to our listing to rent out this property. Because now we can start planting metaphorical seeds as well. By using my business sense and my farming background, we can start a lucrative side business before going back to It’s Ok! Then we’ll be back in business and better than before.” Dad puffs out his chest, unusually confident for someone in his position.
“I thought farming the land was for when you retire,” Gavin says.
“I’m with Gavin. This sounds like a you problem.” I point to Mom and Dad.
“Well, none of us is working now, so we may as well get a head start on it,” Mom not-so-delicately points out.
“Help me unload the equipment,” Dad says, handing Gavin a shovel.
Not only is Dad going to build a farm, but he’s going to make Gavin—a guy whose idea of manual labor is switching out his closet from his winter wardrobe to his spring one—help him. Now, this is a plan I can get behind. I lean against the tractor, settling myself into a comfortable position. This is going to be good.
“What are you doing?” Mom hovers next to me. “You don’t think we’re going to sit by and do nothing, do you?” She motions for me to follow her. And just like that, the joy drains from me.
Mom drags me into the house to get some supplies. I take notice of a few unrecognizable items among her things.
Mom’s essential items:
A bulky kitchen appliance unfamiliar to me
