I forgot today is Monday. All the days blend together now that I’m not working. I wake up to a dozen missed texts from my sisters and brother-in-law about family dinner and haul myself out of bed. I guess I’m cooking. Which is fair since what the hell else do I have to do while my hops project is in limbo and I’m unemployed.
Speaking of … I peck around on Eden’s laptop and rush through the application for unemployment. The last thing I need is to give my sisters more evidence that I’m a failure. Part of me knows that hops farmer isn’t anyone’s ticket to the upper class. But I’m used to living lean. I’ve stretched money before, and I can do it again.
Inspired, I vow to prepare family dinner on a shoestring budget. I take the bus down to the produce terminal building and buy a bunch of random things from the discount market. Warty carrots and misshapen peppers are way cheaper, and they all taste the same sliced and sauteed.
After my successful shopping trip, my bag is full and it’s not sweltering, so I decide to walk over the Allegheny River to Esther’s house on the north side of the city.
I let myself into my sister’s house, wondering where they all are, and make myself busy watering her plants. How can she just let them all wilt like this? I know she’s busy, but surely between her and Koa, one of them can dump a water glass into the spider plant now and then, right? And Eva is still living here, too, as far as I can tell.
I’m grouchy as I prune the crispy bits from the aloe and philodendron and I snap when I hear the door open, signaling the arrival of the entire Storm flock. “How can you just let these guys go like this? I gave you plants that require the bare minimum of care …”
Esther arches a brow at me and shoves a bottle of wine into her husband’s chest. He silently slinks into the kitchen, presumably to put it in the fridge and let Esther rip me a new one.
She points to the couch, and I roll my eyes as I sink into the cushions. “Eila.” She pats my leg. Eva, Eden, and Eliza all sit beside her. They’re like a row of nesting dolls, staring at me behind curtains of dark hair and darker eyes. “You are not okay, love.”
I throw my hands in the air. “No shit I’m not okay.” Esther’s face pinches and I wince. “Sorry. But … yeah. I’m not okay. And neither are your plants.”
Esther inhales through her nose. “Plants aside, tell us what’s going on with you. I thought you’d have a new job by now … it never takes you this long in between gigs.”
And that’s the entire problem. My entire resume is just one dead-end job after another. They’re all gigs. There’s nothing I’m proud of, nothing that revs my engine like Bridges and Bitters does for Esther or the damn goats do for Eliza. Until this project I’ve got going.
“I’m doing the hops thing,” I whine. “It’s just taking a while.”
Eden frowns. “Didn’t you say it would be three years minimum for that to earn a profit?”
Confused, Esther leans back. Her posture is more relaxed now and I feel my own shoulders sink a tiny bit. Esther licks her teeth. “I don’t think I fully understand the hops thing. Can you tell me exactly what you’ve got cooking?”
I wave a hand. “I’m taking over the vacant lot by our house and planting hops. It’s a win-win for everyone since they help prevent erosion, the bines deter mites for Eden’s bees, and a lot of the breweries nearby are into sourcing things local.”
Esther’s clock ticks loudly in the silence while she gathers her thoughts. “What sort of yield can you get from one lot?”
I stare at my knees. “It’s an extremely valuable crop.”
Esther reaches for my chin and tips it up, so I meet her gaze. “How many lots would you need to grow enough and sell enough for this to be your only source of income?”
I swat her hand away. “None of you ever believe me that I’ve done my research on this. It’s a viable project, okay?”
Esther closes her eyes and rubs at her temples. “I do believe you, honey. I am trying to talk through the logistics, listen to your business plan.”
My stomach clenches. “I don’t need to provide you with a business plan, Esther. I spent enough time figuring all that shit out for the stupid permit process.”
There’s a long silence and the five of us just sort of breathe angrily. I can feel the moment Esther decides to let it go—for now at least—and she stands up. “What are we making for dinner? I’m starving.”
We cook together, me brooding and them gabbing about work and potholes and Koa’s haircut. Usually all the nonsense feels cozy but today it feels pointed and directed at me. All of them are gainfully employed. None of them are fuckups who get fired and concoct questionably-legal schemes to earn a living outside the norm.
I’m silent all through dinner and during the ride home in Eden’s van. Eventually, Eden clicks her tongue and asks, “Do I need to worry about your share of the rent? Did you get the unemployment set up at least?”
I don’t look at her when I say, “You’ll get the rent money.”
I know I have to do something to keep myself alive while I sort all this out. I can’t explain my urge to wallow in this project any more than I can explain why I mouthed off to one customer too many and got fired in the first place. But I also know I’m not going to abandon this plan just because it seems doomed. All I’ve ever known is people leaving me and my sisters behind when the going got tough. I’ll figure something out.
Eden doesn’t look like she believes me, though.
I’m relieved when I hear my phone chime with an incoming text, because I have an excuse to turn my attention away from my sister.
Stranger Ben
Me
Stranger Ben
I frown at my sister as she parks in front of our house. “Hey,” I ask her. “Can I borrow your car?” She shrugs and hands me the keys. I pull out my phone and respond to Ben.
Me