“Actually, they’ve already sold it.” I think that’s what hurts more. For so long, I’ve done everything I can to help my parents because the farm is theirdream. They bought the land before I was born and have poured so much of themselves into it, and I did too. But they sold it without discussing it with me first, or even telling me they were considering it.
“Stevie,” Jack says, and his tone is so soft it makes my eyes sting again with incoming tears. “I’m so sorry. Why? What happened?”
I sink to the floor, my back still against the cool metal door, my elbows resting on my knees. “It’s too much for them. Between running it and taking care of Grandma, it’s too much. I guess they’ve been thinking about it for a while. My dad wants to ice fish.”
“Ice fish?” He sounds confused.
“Aren’t you from Montana?”
He pauses. “Yes?”
“You didn’t grow up ice fishing in the tundra?”
His laughter fills the line, and it helps just hearing it. “I think you might be a little confused on the geography of Montana. But, yes, people ice fish here. I didn’t, but other people do. I was just asking why ice fishing.”
“I don’t know. Maybe a three-quarter life crisis.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“They said they’re tired of working so hard, and they want to enjoy retirement.”
“That makes sense,” he says, tender.
I let out a sigh, running a hand over my face. “I know it does. I get it. They’ve worked so hard for so long. They deserve a chance to relax.”
“So what’s the problem?” He doesn’t ask it flippantly, more like he really wants to know what’s on my mind, why I feel so wrecked by this.
I toy with a loose thread on my sweater. “I’m going to miss it. They’re not moving or anything. They aren’t selling the couple of acres the house is on, and my aunt and uncle own their piece of land on the other side of the orchard. They’re just selling the farm itself. They sold it to the farmer next door. He’s nice, and he runs his farm with his kids. They want to expand. So it’s not like it’s going away or anything.”
“I get that,” he says. “It’s important to you. You grew up there.”
“Yeah.”
We’re quiet for a long moment, and then Jack asks, “Is there something else that’s upsetting you about it?”
I feel scrubbed raw, laid bare. Because yes, what I told him is true, but it’s not the thing that’s bothering me the most. It’s not what’s causing the fear roiling in my stomach or the ache right in the middle of my chest.
“They won’t need me anymore,” I say, and the words taste bitter, vile. I’m so ashamed of them that I want to snatch them back, but I can’t and they hang there in the silence.
“Stevie,” Jack says, and his voice is so soft that it makes hot tears spill over onto my cheeks.
“No,” I tell him. “That’s not the worst of it. It’s that I’ve built my life here. I didn’t go to college or move away or do any of the things that I had planned becausethey needed me. And I wantedto help them. I wanted to repay them for everything they did for me growing up. They are such good parents, you know? But I built my life here around them, and now they won’t need me, and I’m not sure what I’m left with.” The words flow out of me in a rush, stealing my breath.
“Maybe that’s part of why they’re selling. Maybe they want you to have more than just them, to have the freedom to do what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I reply, and it’s the truth.
“Sounds like we’re both trying to figure that out,” he says.
A shaky breath heaves out of me. “I’m sorry I called you and cried.”
His laugh is small, a huff of air into the speaker. “Anytime.”
“I wish you were here.”
It slips out of my mouth before I can think better of it, but I don’t regret it either. I know he’s where he needs to be, and I’m glad that we didn’t let anything happen between us before he left. It would be harder if I knew how he tastes, the way his scruff would feel against my neck. But right now, I don’t wish for that. I wish he was here sitting beside me on the cold floor. Being with him would be enough to make me feel lighter.
“I wish I was, too.”
