Page 3 of Nolan
Why can’t you apply yourself like Apollo? was practically a daily mantra at my house.
“And we had to tell Apollo why, exactly?” I ask, uncertain.
My mother smiles at me. “Well, it just so happens that Jessica’s in need of a marketer for her boutique.”
That perks my interest, if only a little. Jessica’s my brother’s wife. They met in technical college, and she’s nothing like him at all. There’s not an arrogant bone in her body. I still remember the first time Apollo brought her home. I couldn’t believe he’d managed to land a girl like her in a million years. She was kind, down-to-earth, and didn’t fawn over him the way girls had a tendency to do in high school. If anything, he was like a puppy, following her helplessly.
Things got better when she showed up. Apollo became slightly less insufferable. Jessica always encouraged my dreams, being an aspiring fashion designer herself. She’s both creative and industrious, and way too smart for Apollo, and she opened up her own clothing boutique, Cyber Street, in New Carnegie. The world finally revolved around someone other than him, and he was helpless against her orbit. Not going to lie, it was kind of amazing to see him like that. She and I don’t talk all that often, being busy with our own lives, but when we do, I’m always happy to hear from her.
“A marketer?” I ask tentatively. “Her shop is doing that well?”
“She says they may open a second location next year,” my dad replies with a slight shrug.
“Anyway, I didn’t say yes or no for you. I know how much you hate that,” Mom says. “She wants you to call or text her when you can.”
The idea of moving back to New Carnegie isn’t my first choice. It’s not that I don’t love my roots, but I really like California. That’s where most of the action is, in my career field. “I was sort of hoping I could stay with you,” I say sheepishly. “Here. While I find a new job and get back on my feet.”
My mother looks at me sympathetically. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. You must have forgotten with your job upheaval, but remember, your father and I are going to vacation in Vietnam next week. And when we get back, we’re selling this place.”
Oh, shit. I completely forgot. Ever since they became empty nesters, my parents have loved to travel together. “Sell?” I’m aghast. “Why? What for?”
“California is nice and all, but with property taxes and inflation, keeping this place up isn’t as feasible,” my dad explains. “And there’s talk of androids replacing flight instructors at work here. I have a job reserved for me back in New Carnegie. The college I worked for is committed to an all-human staff, and they said I’ve got a spot waiting for me whenever I want it.”
“Not to mention the fires,” my mom adds with a fretful pinch of her brow. “You know this one on the news? It’s headed right for us. I hope they stop it in time, but the stress of it all . . .”
“It’s not good for your mother’s nerves,” my dad finishes sagely. I’m guessing it’s not great for his either.
My shoulders sink slowly. I was thinking about asking them for help with my rent, but now doesn’t seem to be a good time for that. “Oh. I didn’t realize.” I consider Jessica’s boutique. Is it possible I could work for her? But living in the house with Apollo again doesn’t sound very appealing. “Could I stay at your condo back home?”
“Under renovation,” my dad replies with a slight shake of his head. “They’re replacing all the pipes. Older buildings require maintenance like that from time to time.”
“Jessica said they’d be happy to have you,” my mom says hopefully.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” my dad says with a nod. “You’ve been saving?”
“Yes,” I say. Not as much as they’d like, but I do try my best to take their lessons about money to heart.
“Take this time to save a little more,” he suggests. “Your brother and his wife have an extra room, and they wouldn’t charge rent. You could get on your feet. And if you still need help, by the time we get back and we’ve sold this place, we have an extra room for you, once renovations are done.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. I’m reluctant to say yes. Living with anyone will be a pretty big shift for me after having my own place and all the privacy I wanted. I’ve certainly never lived with kids before. Then again, I love my niece and nephew, and it could mean I get to form real, solid bonds with them when they’re still little.
In my heart, I get the feeling I’m not going to have much choice. It’s not like I have much else keeping me here, I haven’t had a lot of success on the dating scene. A few relationships here and there, but nothing lasted more than six months and then they crashed and burned. There’s no one waiting up for me. With my parents choosing to sell their winter home, I’d be completely alone in California. That’s not something I would enjoy. I like looking forward to the holiday season, seeing my parents in the cooler months, enjoying my mom’s cooking, the way she pampers me when I decide to stay overnight, and the way dad talks to me about recent events, like the android protests. He always knows what’s going on in the world.
If they’re going back to New Carnegie I need to seriously consider going back, too. And if I can help Jess in the meantime? Absolutely, I’m going to do it. No questions asked. It’s not like I’d have to live with them permanently, anyway. Just until I can afford my own place.
Still, I’m not crazy about the idea of moving to New Carnegie indefinitely. I love the perpetual warmth of LA, even if it comes with a crazy sunshine tax. I’ll miss my friends at work, the restaurants, the beach, the theme parks. But I’ve got a family backing me, and that’s irreplaceable. My parents may not always get what I do or why I love what I love, but they’ve always been emotionally supportive when I need them to be.
And emotional support is what I need most right about now. I don’t want to go back to my apartment. I want to stay with my mom, eat her food, smell my dad’s coffee that he brews every morning. “Can I crash here tonight?” I ask.
“Of course! I hoped you might,” my mother coos and brings over two piping hot bowls of soup. “The guest room is all ready for you.”
After a warm dinner filled with comforting, if sometimes awkward, conversations I trundle through my parents’ condo to my old bedroom and collapse on the bed. There’s only a single brain cell left to me, and I do the only thing I can think of with it. I shoot Jessica a message.
So I guess Mom told you about me losing my job. She mentioned you have a job opening at your store. Is that true?
She responds a few minutes later.
You’re damn right it’s true. Call me tomorrow and we’ll figure it all out, okay? I’m really sorry about what happened with your job. But we’ll figure it out.
