Page 9 of First Chance

“What?”

“You have thousands of unread emails.”

“I hate being on the computer.”

“Why don’t you check them on your phone, then?”

“I use a flip phone.”

“You, what?!”

He pulls out his phone from his back pocket and flips it open to prove his point, and I can’t pick my jaw off the floor. I didn’t know they even sold those anymore. I knew he was older than me, but that’s practically elderly of him.

“Okay, on your to-do list. Buy a new phone, buy a new computer. Pronto.”

“Get me the money for a security system and I’ll make those my next priorities,” he mutters, unconvinced.

“Once you have a security system, you’ll be able to watch live footage from your phone, open and close the gate on command, track people, bears, anything and everything,” I argue.

“Fine.” He pulls out a sticky note and writes, ‘get smartphone.’

I snatch the pale yellow paper from his hand before he sticks it to his “bulletin board,” which is a corner of his counter with six other sticky notes with random to-do items. I cross out smartphone and write, ‘iPhone’.

“If you’re going to get a new phone, you should keep up with the times.” I hand the paper back with the sticky end attached to the tip of my finger.

“Now I know how the guys feel when I’m up their asses,” he mumbles, sticking the note to the counter.

Maybe I should be offended, but I’m not. This is exactly why I am here and what I’m good at. Before I decided to pursue engineering, I knew how to organize and run things like the best of them. Parties, charities, and campaign events. I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life, but I strived to be the best at it regardless.

“My parents don’t know I’m going to school for engineering,” the words blurt out of my mouth before I can stop them after a few minutes of silence.

“Why?” He grunts. Most of his conversation with me is one-syllable responses, but I’ve gotten used to it.

“They wanted me to go into Political Science, but I didn’twant to. We compromised on Public Relations for my undergrad, but when it was time to apply for grad school, I went behind their backs and changed my major. That’s why I carry all my books in my book bag. I don’t want them to know because they’ll make me quit.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t want me to go to grad school at all. They said it was a waste of time.”

Lochlan’s furrowed brow deepens, and he crosses his arms. “Because?”

I’ve said too much, I know it, but the way he’s looking at me makes me want to spill my guts. He looks like he’ll be mad at me for keeping a secret from him, even though we’re nowhere near that level of familiarity.

My mother assumes I’ll be someone’s housewife, and my father can’t grasp that I would do anything that doesn’t benefit him.

“It’s silly, just differing opinions. I’ll tell them eventually,” I say instead, trying to reverse out of the pothole I just stepped into. His eyes darken, but he doesn’t press me further.

“Leave your books here.” He walks out of the kitchen and out of the house without a farewell, cutting off our conversation completely.

I go back to checking his email and sorting through what needs immediate attention and what can be deleted, but my mind can’t erase the way his eyes looked when I told him about my parents. It was disapproval.

I don’t want him to think that I’m a liar or can’t be trusted. No more conversation regarding my personal life. I’m here to get a paycheck, and that’s it.

* **

Over the next few weeks, it’s more of the same. I go through emails, respond to what I can, and leave notes for Lochlan to fill me in on later. I pay bills and have organized all of his paperwork.

As I’m reading through the mail that he left on the table, I notice ‘URGENT’ stamped on one of the envelopes. It’s from a Mayor Randall Porter with Langston’s seal, the city just down the mountain.

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