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“Childhood constipation is nothing to be ashamed of. Statistically speaking…” Eden begins from behind Mom.
Ensley cuts her off with a quick snort of a laugh. “Come on. Nobody came here to talk about this today. We were supposed to be saving poor Elowyn and whisking her away to lunch. Not discussing her bodily functions in the third grade. Terrible and tactless, the both of you.”
“Thank you, Eden. Nice to know one of the Lorenson women has retained some kind of common decency today. What is this lunch you speak of? I’m starving now that I’m thinking about it. Let me go hang up my apron and close the pharmacy gate before we swing out of here.”
We head to the Tex-Mex place across the street, per usual. Tacos and a piping hot bowl of queso have been a family staple for as long as I can remember. None of us even need to look at the menu to order, and the server even throws Dad’s food in without asking as soon as she sees him walking in the door to join us.
“I bet you can’t do this at the bar,” he says, scooting into the U-shaped booth seat next to me and shoving me in a little too close to Eden. Mom and Ensley were smart enough to grab the chairs instead when we got here.
“What?” I pause to chew a mouthful of chips, covering my lips with my hands so I don’t spew crumbs everywhere. “Eat?”
“No, you ding-dong,” he teases, stealing a scoop of salsa right out from under me. “Go on break. Just hang up a sign and disappear for an hour like a human being who needs rest and food. Rather than some kind of beer-slinging automaton at the mercy of every drunk in Frostvale.”
As much as I want to argue that my job entails a bit more than what he’s reduced it to, he’s making a solid point. “Yeah. You’re right. It is a refreshing amount of dignity to be afforded in the afternoon.”
“Isn’t this the life? Can’t you hardly wait? It’s so close.” Mom beams at me so hard over her tortilla soup that it makes it a little difficult to keep eating. It’s no secret where Ensley gets her open emotionality from. “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come and how much you’ve been able to stick to this. Ensley changed majors three times in the first two years of school.”
“I’m a varied individual, is that so bad?” My sister waves her fork in the air in self-defense.
“Seriously, though.” Dad ignores her, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in for a hug. “Good for you, sticking to your guns.”
They just keep staring at me. All of them. I’m surrounded on all sides by these unhinged looks of absolute adoration and pride. My entire family has crammed me into a vinyl booth and loaded me with chips and salsa and planned my whole future for me. I feel like a little kid who just got on one of the big roller coasters for the first time and am only realizing just how much I don’t want to go right as the attendant is closing the bar on my lap, you know the one that bears down so hard it almost breaks your legs? I feel like that’s what this little family meeting is doing to my heart.
I’m up to the top of the first drop now. You know, the biggest one? My hands are up in the air. The car in front of me plummets forward and…
“Oh, my god. I can’t—I can’t do this.” My face is way too hot, and I stupidly swallow my Sprite wrong and start coughing.
“Did they make the salsa too spicy again? Just add some sour cream.” Mom starts pushing a small plastic bowl of sour cream toward me, while Eden waves a napkin at my face and Dad tries handing me water.
“No!” I sputter out, trying not to lose my mind from all of the attention they keep shoving at me. “The class. The math.”
“We’ll get you a tutor.” Eden shrugs, so nonplussed by my choking spasm that she keeps pushing the lettuce of her salad around with her fork.
“Yeah. And then your father can finally retire. All will be right with the world,” Mom croons with a smile, and my head explodes like a balloon. “We can sleep in, and travel, and go to church together every Sunday. Doesn’t that sound delightful?”
“I don’t want to be a pharmacist!” I don’t realize how loudly I’ve yelled until I notice how silent the restaurant is. My fork drops to the tile with a slight clang, and I watch as our server awkwardly backs away with a water pitcher, deciding that now might not be the best time to offer refills. Eden’s eyebrows hover around her hairline, and Mom very suddenly finds her napkin the most interesting thing in the world, rolling it and unrolling it with nervous precision. I try to regain control of both myself and the conversation. “I wanted to help the family. More than anything. I love you guys. But I don’t think this is the way. I’m… I’m not happy.”
An abnormal, gloomy pall falls over the table. Dad looks at Mom, who looks at Eden, who looks right back at Dad and shrugs, prompting him with a flail of her hands to saysomething.
“What do you mean?” he ventures quietly, using the same voice he did when I quit tee-ball. “You love working at the pharmacy.”
“I love working in the gift area. I love helping out. I love being around you and supporting your dream.” I take a deep breath, trying to remember that my family does actually love me at the end of the day. And they aren’t going to disown me over burritos. At least I hope. “This just isn’tmydream.”
“Is this about your business?” Eden asks, much to everyone else’s confusion. “I started going over those numbers you gave me. I must say, little sis, they do seem to be quite impressive.”
“Mind sharing with the rest of us?” Dad arches an eyebrow at me, digging into his enchiladas the second they hit the table. His appetite is still here, which is a promising sign. Dad never eats when he’s about to do something drastic.
My hands tremble as I pull out my phone, opening my website, and sliding it toward him. “I, uh. I started a gifting business a while ago. It was my friend’s idea and I really meant for it to be more of a hobby but, I’m good at it. Really good. Better than I’ve been at anything else. I’ve been busy with this since the second I started. I got picked up by a regional bank branch to do their corporate gifts and they’re paying me a boatload to do it. This is something that’s mine. Something that fits me. Not something I have to make myself fit.”
“Here. Look at her invoices for the last month alone.” Eden slides her phone toward the center of the table now, zooming in on a spreadsheet of figures for everyone else to see.
Ensley’s eyes go wide at the numbers. “So, you’re not that bad at math after all.”
“Well, I understand this math. This math matters to me.” I can’t help but roll my eyes at the barb. “My friend, the one who set me up with the website, knew how much you guys mean to me, and how much I need to be around you and help you. The idea was that I should run the gifting side—hell, run the whole pharmacy. But just hire an actual pharmacist. Let me do what I’m good at and find one of the thousands of other people who are really good at math and prescription consultations and drug interactions and chemistry to put on a white coat every day and make sure no customer dies on our watch. By using this strategy, everybody wins.”
Dad considers it for a moment, chewing a particularly large bite of beans and setting his fork down pensively on his napkin. Then, he smiles.
“I think that can be arranged.” He nods like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “More importantly, are you going to finish that guacamole?”
