Winter (Before)
And yet the people will tell you
You're miles from your home,
Cowboy Junkies - Miles From Our Home
Fern
The concept of irony was not lost of Fern. Just seventy two hours ago she was wishing for a change, not a big change, something small like cutting her hair or going to the movie,s just something to break her out of the monotony of going to work, riding the bus home and going to the apartment she shared with her fiance.
The longer she sat in her cubicle the more she got annoyed. By the cameras watching her, by her coworkers babbling, by the fact she was in her mid twenties and haven't accomplished much with her life by doing the work of five people and barely getting paid for doing her job. When her supervisor asked her to redo some papers she worked on hours the day before she snapped. She stood up slammed her headset down and yelled every expletive she knew at her superviser while her coworkers looked on in fascination or annoyance. With a pink slip and a box of her stuff later she realized she was never cut out to be Joja material.
She walked the long way home instead of taking the bus to think, to listen to her cd player and just think.
By the time she got home she was freezing. Late winter not setting into spring the sky covered with clouds muting the sun. Michael looked up from his dinner pausing his fork to his mouth as he stared at her. Hie eyes saying without speaking "what now".
She flopped on the couch "So I got fired today."
"Figured as much considering you're coming home in street clothes and a box of your stuff."
"There all asshats".
He gave a sigh putting his dishes away "so what are you going to do now?"
"I don't know, I been working at Joja since I graduated high school. I guess I'll figure something out."
"Well you should've figured that out before all this."
"It wasn't like I quit."
"I know, but your too mouthy."
"Well I was doing the work of half my section and barely getting any recognition."
Michael looked at her like he was dealing with an upset toddler. "That's what a job is you're not supposed to get recognition for it. What do you want a gold star just because you filed paperwork? Do you want me to tell you good job every time you come home? No you go to work even if you hate it, you get paid, you come home and do it all over again. Then maybe if they like you, you can get a job that pays better. It's not about happiness it's about living."
"Can you not lecture me, I had a shit day."
"Well you need a lecture if you keep going through life without any plans any structure. Its like you want to fail."
"You talk like you're expecting me to fail Michael"
"Well I pay the majority of the bills and generally am responsible for everything and what do you do come home, complain then nothing happens."
"I'm tired of this. I'm tired of working all day and have nothing to show for it. I'm tired of being treated like shit at my job."
Michael sighed running his hand through his black hair. "I'm tired of this."
She stopped pacing the living room floor to turn and look at him.
"I'm tired of this relationship Fern".
She froze "are you breaking up with me?"
"Consider this a pause, a pause until you grow up a bit. I'm tired of doing all the work."
"But you're not doing all the work, it's not like i don't contribute."
"I know, I just need a break ok"
She twisted her engagement ring looking into his eyes "well what about me what am I going to do now?"
He broke eye contact first, turning to their bedroom "you figure it out".
She spent the entire night trying to figure out a plan, something, anything. It was two in the morning, she was sitting on the floor ice cream in one hand, a photo album in another paging through photos of her high school years with Michael. She didn't think she had a adolescent memory without him in it. Shuffling through old papers, things she saved, a photo of her mother and her Grandfather caught her eye. The photo sparked something in her brain as she pulled her box of files out thumbing through the folders. She found what she was looking for a heavy paper envelope with a wax seal. A relic from another time when letters were art. She practically tore the envelope things starting to fit together like a puzzle. Her mother talking about summers she spent on grandpa's farm. Mentions of someday they would move there once they had money. Her and her mother never did there was always something keeping them, But now today she had the dead in her hands to Travis Farms.
A plan started forming in her head. She knew nothing about farming, but how hard could it be? Plant seeds in ground, water, collect, simple. She could fix up the farmhouse getting it running then sell it to some yuppie who actually wanted to abandon their city life for something more rural. She would collect the money maybe Michael will see her as responsible. At four in the morning her plan seemed brilliant. Pulling out the phonebook she looked up information. Nestled in Stardew Valley west of a place called Pelican Town. She pulled out a atlas tracing the route with her fingertips. She had a plan, a spur of the moment badly thought out plan, but still a plan. Let's see Michael telling her she didn't know how to take control of her life now.
Harvey
Standing near the corner by the phone Harvey watched everybody chatting, giving each other the occasional hug and talking how great of a person his father was. He wanted to roll his eyes and scream at them.
It seemed like his entire life consisted of standing in corners watching life pass him by. He was a people watcher, he watched people because he didn't understand people. There complexed social structures, there feelings of more money equals validation. The room suddenly felt too small the familiar pull in his chest, his fingers reaching up brushing the inside of his elbow. He took another drink of coffee crumpling his cup and tossing it in a nearby trashcan. He showed up, payed his respects, now it was time for him to get out of here maybe if he hurried he could make it to the bar and talk to people who knew him. Sure he was going to sit in the corner and blend in there too but it was more welcoming.
Grabbing his coat he left having enough.
He didn't even want to go but it was his father's funeral. Who dosen't go to their father's funeral no matter how horrible they were. He regretted it the moment he stepped in the door.
Before leaving the city he pulled into one of the of those coffee shops feeling like he needed, no he deserved another cup. It was pretty much the only thing keeping him going right now.
It was packed on a friday night with little room to move around. Compared to most of the people there Harvey suddenly felt huge and gangly. He saw a free spot at an already occupied table.
"Is this seat taken?" A girl dressed in way too much makeup for a coffee house was reading. The girl looked at him scrunching up her face like he had insulted her. He motioned to her "I love that book" She gave him one last look before standing up and walking away. He cringed inside he knew he was no good at talking to people but today it seemed like his awkwardness radiated.
He grabbed his coffee and walked a few blocks to the truck. He waited outside in the chill around long enough to finish his coffee and toss it in the trashcan. Reaching in his pocket for his keys he walked back to the truck to drive home.
The drive home was quiet the only sounds keeping him company was the local public radio station out of Zuzu running there classical music night. It relaxed him a bit the soft sounds calming down, the buildings starting to disappear, the surroundings getting more woodsey. When he could smell the ocean in the air he knew he was home.
Some might see him as boring, he saw himself as a traditionalist. He was the only Doctor in Pelican Town, the only doctor in the valley and too many people depended on him. Who cares if he was boring, at the end of his day he could rest knowing he did a good job.
Pulling the truck next to the mayor's house he hesitated at the saloon deciding just to go home. He had a long day, he was exhausted physically, mentally.
He let himself into the clinic his apartment upstairs past a long set of stairs. He undressed folding everything neatly to be put in the wash or worn the next day. Lifting up his jacket to put it on its hook he dug through the pockets making sure he didn't leave anything important. He pulled out a card blinking as he read it "In remembrance of Greg Harvey". His first instinct was to throw it in the trash but something made him fold back the creases and put it in his dresser next to a wood box.
Climbing into bed he turned off the light flexing his toes as he tried to relax to slow his brain down. Another day gone, another night alone the days blending together he lost track a few years ago. It just felt like he woke up one day walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth and realized he was ten years older than the last time he remembered. If it weren't for festivals and his birthday, he would have no sense of time.
Thankfully running the town clinic kept his mind busy. Even when he was off the clock he had papers to file, records to input, inventory to be arranged. No time for idle thoughts and when they did sneak up on him he had his hobbies. After a while everything became automatic the only differences being the seasons.
He lay awake looking at the ceiling. The worst part of his day was the time between laying in that bed and falling asleep. It was too long, too lonely too quiet. Sometimes he wondered where he would be if his life was a bit different, If he chosen another path. Sometimes he would watch the other townspeople and be envious of their lives and families as he returned to his apartment alone. Shaking his head to himself he sighed turning over. Living in the past never got you anywhere.