Page 79 of Snowballed

He continues, “Paying for us to go to college has taken all of Dad’s insurance money. She doesn’t want to keep going into debt. Like she showed us.”

Once Derek got home, my mother did her annual financial presentation. Due to some setbacks this year—unexpected vet bills, a burst pipe in the barn, and higher feed costs—the farm is losing more money than ever. My mother is using numbers to prove that it’s time to sell the farm. But I’m still resisting. The longer I put her off, the longer I get to stay here.

Logically, I know the problems. But leaving the farm feels like losing the last connection I had to my father. I grip his old pitchfork tighter.

“How much longer do you think I have?” I ask the question like it’s my death sentence.

“Mom’s changed.” Derek looks like he wants to add something else, but instead he turns on the snowblower and clears the driveway.

After we shower and eat breakfast, we open our stockings and gifts. Usually my mother’s sister and her family come over for Christmas dinner, but they’ve gone to Florida this year.

My mother holds her cup of coffee and looks outside at the drifting snow. “Florida was the right choice.”

“Christmas dinner with only the three of us will feel funny,” I say.

Derek and my mother exchange a look. Are there more secrets in this house I don’t know about? I live here and Derek doesn’t.

“Actually, I’ve invited a friend over for Christmas dinner,” my mother says.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Carl Jankowski.” The name isn’t familiar at all.

“Do I know him?”

“He’s in my night class,” she says, which explains nothing. Then comprehension floods my brain—all her absences that I welcomed so I could be alone with Noah.

“Are you dating him?” I ask.

“Yes.” She peers at me. “Is that okay?”

A big part of me hates this. How can she forget about Dad so soon? But I’m being ridiculous. It’s been two years and I know how lonely my mother has been.

“It’s fine. I’m just a bit surprised.” Obviously, Derek knew about this already.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was waiting to see if things worked out. Besides, you’ve been busy, and you have Noah,” my mother says.

“I saidit’s fine.” There’s a stunned silence in response to my rude tone. Derek is giving me a chill-out look, and my mother looks hurt. “I’m sorry. I need some time to get my head around this.”

I don’t mention that once again I feel like the outsider here. I know that my mother takes Derek out for dinner regularly and they talk. I live with my mother, yet she never confides in me. And I don’t confide in her either.

My mother murmurs something to smooth things over, and I excuse myself to go upstairs and digest all the news.

In the afternoon, I call Noah for a video chat. It’s late morning there, but I’ve still woken him up. His hair is all messy, and the room is dark.

“Oh sorry. Did you want to call me later?” I ask.

“S’okay. Gimme a moment,” he mumbles. The picture goes dark, and I can hear him fumbling around.

“Okay. Back. I needed water.” He holds up a bottle. Noah’s in bed and has no shirt on, and possibly nothing else either. This vision is like my Christmas present.

Seeing Noah again makes me feel a lot better.

“Merry Christmas,” I say.

“Oh right. Merry Christmas. I went out with friends last night, so I’m a bit foggy.”

When he tilts his head back to drink more water, it’s hot. Everything Noah does turns me on. He looks even better in his natural habitat.

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