I think it's probably clear already after the previous chapter – and I've seen this request on various forums and Youtube videos and comments as well – I would really like to see a farmer's own birthday in the game. Be it a random date that's chosen with no input from the player, or something you can choose at character creation where you'd obviously only get the dates that don't have either a holiday or another character's birthday attached to them.

I imagine you'd at least need to indicate a few in-game objects you like. Maybe not at character creation, that would be a lot of preparation before you can actually start playing and a first-timer doesn't know the available items yet, but for example when you reach a certain number of hearts with the first NPC (maybe 5? That sounds like a point where other characters could start giving you birthday gifts). And the things you indicate as loved gifts for yourself would be what you get from the people you have 8 or more hearts with, and below that they would give gifts that are more typical for the NPC because they aren't close enough to you to know what you like. And obviously things like the treasure item and prismatic shards etc would be unavailable for this (I would really like the tea set though. How about if you say you like tea, Caroline could give you either the tea cup, tea leaves or the tea set for gifts. Such things).

When it comes to Sebastian and Demetrius, I think the problem comes from both sides and the best thing that can happen is Sebastian moving out. My relationship with my parents and siblings improved a lot after I did that. I want to make it happen, but I'm not sure how. I've been thinking about the farmhand cottages, and having him pay rent to Evan... But he's going to have better chances of finding a job with stable income living in the city (and he won't have to spend as much money on the commute. No company is going to let a junior with hardly any job experience just start working remotely just like that). It's gonna depend if Sebastian wants that stable income badly enough to start getting up at 7 every morning.

2 Summer, Year 3

Evan's birthday pt 2

My alarm clock wakes up a demon in my head. I quickly turn it off, but the damage is done: there's a dull, painful knocking on the inside of my brainpan. My mouth is dry and has an unpleasant taste in it.

I've been hungover worse than this before – I made a point of downing several glasses of water before going to bed – but I still feel pretty close to shit. However, I can't stay in bed. The water I put in also needs to come back out.

I have cereal for breakfast and drink more water, hoping to rehydrate my brain as soon as possible. Alcohol is poison, and hangovers are basically dehydration of the brain plus some residue of alcohol byproducts that's still knocking around in there, so the sooner it manages to clean itself up, the sooner I'll feel like a human being again.

Eh, at least I still remember everything that happened last night. I've never been so drunk that my long term memory stopped working. And it was a fun night. Lasted until like 3 am, too. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to have coffee for once. It would be awful to start nodding off at Robin's house today.

I go water my crops and milk my girls, and by the time I go inside the chicken coop for the eggs I feel more or less normal again. I force down some coffee with a lot of milk and sugar, wait until my body is done reacting to it, and then head up the backwoods path to Robin's house.

I come in to find the entrance room empty. It's Tuesday, of course. Robin is at aerobics. So I walk further in and find Demetrius in the lab, making notes. I knock modestly on the door frame and he looks up.

"Oh, Evan, you're here."

"Don't let me disturb you."

"No, this is not important, don't worry about it. Here, let's go sit down in the kitchen. Cold beer?"

"Let me start with just water, I'm a lightweight."

I move ahead to the kitchen while Demetrius knocks on Maru's door to announce my arrival. She immediately comes out as if she was waiting for me.

"Heyy, Evan! Happy birthday!" She hugs me before I get a chance to sit down.

"Okay. Hi. Thanks. So many hugs."

"You're not a hugger?" She lets go of me with a wide smile.

"I mean, I'm not opposed, I just wasn't expecting it. I don't think I've ever had anyone be so… happy to be celebrating my birthday, except my parents."

"Really? Man, that's sad. Hey, I got something for you. Stay right here, don't move."

I don't move while she runs back into her bedroom, then comes out again carrying what looks like a vase with roses. She sets them on the table. The roses are some five different colors.

"Hang on. Are these…?"

"Ink roses. Because you said they never worked for you. I had these in different glasses with some colored inks in the water, they were white."

"That's cool." I pull out one of the roses and spot the split stem. "How long did that take?"

"Three days, I think. No, four, because you were supposed to get them yesterday. But they were already like that yesterday."

"But you still had them in ink today?"

"Yes, it hasn't made a lot of difference anymore. Right now this is just ordinary water."

"Okay. Thank you, that's really neat."

Demetrius sets a glass of cold water in front of me.

"Maru, what are you drinking?"

"Orange juice, please."

Finally we each have a glass and we sit down and chat until Robin comes home. At the moment we hear the front door open, Demetrius stands up and starts getting stuff out of the fridge. Robin pops her head into the kitchen to say hi, then hops into the shower while Demetrius starts cooking.

"Would you be interested in some help?" I ask, just in case.

"No, that's fine, this is just something simple," he answers. "I normally cook on Tuesdays because Robin will be tired, but I'm not a great cook. I only know how to make a couple of simple things."

"What are you making, dad?" Maru asks.

"Fried mushrooms with rice."

"Okay." She doesn't seem enthusiastic.

"You're invited, of course, Evan."

"I don't need to tell you that's not necessary."

"No, you don't, and I got extra mushrooms for you, so you're staying. Unless you have something against mushrooms, that is."

"I love mushrooms. I always ate my little brother's mushrooms because he didn't want them."

"You have a brother?" Maru asks. We end up talking about my family. When Robin comes back, she gets a drink, sits down and joins in the conversation.

"So what did… I mean… I don't know if I can ask this, I don't want to be offensive," Maru starts then.

"How did I come out," I guess. "Or how did my parents react to me being gay."

"Well, yeah. Both."

"It's better not to ask a stranger things like that. In my experience, a person I don't know well is likely to get judgmental as soon as they have my answer. But I think we're good enough friends to go there. As for the answer… My parents have always presented it as an option like any other." I give her some anecdotes to clarify.

"That must be nice," Robin says. "I know there's lots of people nowadays who won't… you know, try to change you or something, but being that tolerant is pretty rare, I think."

"Yeah, they're the only ones I know. Which makes me wonder myself, Robin. Carpenter is not traditionally a job for women. I take it your parents are also pretty progressive, if they paid for your studies?"

"Oh, no, my parents are pretty old-fashioned. They were bewildered when I told them I wanted to be a carpenter. They owned a bakery together, and they always expected me to take over from them."

"So what happened?"

"A lot of fights, me trying to make them understand that this was my bakery, really. They ended up paying half of the cost for my study, and I took a loan for the other half. They were expecting me to drop out. When they saw that I really finished, started working and that I was happy, I think they realized that carpentry really was my passion and that I wasn't going to regret my decision. Then I, uh… ended up in some financial trouble and they helped me pay off my loan so I'd have one worry less."

"Maru," Demetrius interrupts, "would you set the table?"

Maru jumps up and starts distributing plates and cutlery.

"And the bakery?"

"They're still working there, for now. Neither of them wants to retire, when I mention it they'll ask me what for. It's what keeps them going, I think. They're really happy. When they can't do it anymore…" She shrugs. "I'm pretty bad at baking so I'll probably sell it."

"You don't have any siblings who could take over?"

"I don't, no. What do your parents do?"

"My dad is in IT and my mom is in HR. They met while working for the same company, but she left for another one after a few years."

"Corporate family," Demetrius comments.

"Yeah, they're generally of the mindset of "do your nine-to-five and live on your off hours". It works if you don't have a shitty boss."

"Didn't you say you worked for Joja?" Maru asks. "And you couldn't stand it, right?"

"I did. It's not the company any of my parents work for, and I was in customer support, which is a completely different jam. Also I had the shittiest of bosses."

"So how did it work, exactly, with your grandfather owning the farm?" Demetrius asks, putting the cooking pots on cork table protectors and sitting down. "Did one of your parents grow up there? Please feel free," he adds, gesturing at the pots. I'm the guest, I guess they're letting me serve myself first, so I fill my plate.

"My grandparents used to live in the city and they had city jobs. My grandmother was a nurse and my grandfather a lawyer. He made some decent money, but you come face to face with the dregs of society that way and it got to him with time. But they had my father and my uncle, so money needed to keep on coming in. Then when the kids were out of the house, he tried a few different jobs – he actually worked at a bakery for a while, too – and everyone said it was midlife crisis. My grandma tried to accept it and stick with him, but I think, from the stories I've heard, I have the impression that wasn't the healthiest of marriages anyway. I think part of the reason why grandpa started trying to find a different life like that was to find some kind of meaning to be able to settle down again and that marriage may have been the cause of the problem, or a large part of it. So finally he bought the farm and moved there, and had a big fight with grandma about her staying where she was. He owned the house she lived in so she never needed to pay rent or anything. They never officially divorced, but only a couple of years later – when I was seven – my grandma suddenly died. Brain aneurism. Strangely, grandpa got… kind of morose, after that. I don't know if was her death or just age but he became one of those cranky old men. We, the grandchildren, would all have about a week every summer at the farm – but never more than one kid at a time. On his deathbed, when I was twelve, he said I was his favorite and he gave me this big envelope that I should only open when I was done with city life… I guess he figured I was the one most likely to break."

I did also try to talk to his cat, true enough, but that being the reason why he chose me – that has to be a joke, there's no other way.

"One day at Joja I was just done with the whole mess, and I opened that envelope… and there was the deed to the farm. When I told my parents, my dad said that I was indeed always the favorite and he'd figured as much."

"So you just packed up your stuff right then and there?" Maru asks.

"Not immediately. My parents kind of laughed off the idea that my grandpa thought I could be a farmer… I've always been more of a brainiac and the plants I tried to grow always died. They made me rethink the whole thing. It's probably a good thing, because at the time I was only thinking about how much I hated my job and worrying that every next job I had would be a big gamble until I found one with a nice boss… And then the nice boss gets promoted, or demoted, or just leaves, et cetera. At that moment, being my own boss sounded like heaven, and I wasn't thinking about the difficulties. I did need that wake-up call. Still, in the end I figured I might as well try it. They say that when people on their deathbed are asked about their regrets, they tend to regret things they didn't do. It's an experience, you know. In the beginning I was still fully expecting I'd end up going back home with my tail between my legs."

"But you did come," Robin comments.

"Yeah. I'm not sure why. I mean, I had a lot of ideas in my head on why I should and why I shouldn't. The fun experience, nothing to lose, seeing if I could do it, at least I'd get some exercise, it might just work, and of course the idea that I'd regret not trying. I guess it was all of that."

"Sounds like your grandfather was a pretty good judge of character," Demetrius says.

"I guess, yeah. Um, isn't… Sebastian coming to have dinner?"

"He knows it's dinnertime and he can smell the food," Robin says in a placating tone. "He can't stand being interrupted when he's working. He says he doesn't mind warming something up later."

"Sebastian is not the most social person." In Demetrius's tone I hear distinct disapproval.

"Working?" I ask Robin.

"He's a programmer. He's always on his computer. He says there's money in it."

"One might wonder why he's still living at home, if there's so much money in it," Demetrius adds.

"There's big money in it, I hear that all the time," I explain. "But for those well-paying jobs they always require a certain number of years of relevant experience. And if you have no experience, the only jobs you'll be able to find will be jobs that require no education at all – that's exactly why I ended up at Joja. But of course a job at customer support or flipping burgers is not relevant experience for the job you want to do, so then you're spending years and years angling for a junior programming job while flipping burgers to pay the bills, and the more time you spend doing one thing, the less they'll consider you for a different thing… So you have two choices. Either you start a blog or a website or something that will function as a portfolio, where you'll upload your projects for all to see in order to show off what you know. Or you work as a freelancer, and that actually counts as job experience. From what I've heard, a blog doesn't make you any likelier to get hired, because your potential employers can also see anything about your code that they don't like. If you freelance, you won't be allowed to let anyone else see your work, but if you can work freelance for the number of years required for you to be considered for a good job, you'll be considered more ready for the job than other candidates because as a freelancer you're your own everything. If you can manage your own projects, PR, taxes and all that stuff and not starve, that means you're capable. Also you might be able to name-drop some big projects that you've worked on or big companies that you've worked for, you can ask clients to leave recommendations or be references for you, and that way you raise your credibility."

"Hmm. I hadn't thought about it like that," Demetrius admits grudgingly.

"You've been telling him to get a real job, haven't you."

"I worked in a supermarket during my doctorate," he shrugs. "It builds character. You have to learn to deal with unpleasant people, both bosses and clients, and you have to learn to do what you're told. Sebastian hasn't worked a day in his life, and I believe that's going to hurt his chances."

"A freelancer depends on his clients, and not all of those are pleasant. I had a friend in college who was going for translator, and that's a freelance job pur sang. You're a translator, you're a freelancer, there is no other way. He told me he'd heard about translators who will let clients call them at any hour of the night or during weekends, to get an edge on the competition. He's told me stories from his own teachers, who were professional translators outside of teaching hours – one had to translate a text about dentistry or something, an ad for the professional dentist about some new thing they were selling to correct something teeth-related, I don't know – but this was a text for the professional. The client then came back five different times about how the translation for this one word seemed too complicated and it seemed like it hadn't been translated at all. You have to tell these people that that is a latin word that professionals use all the time, and that you can translate it in a different way, but that will be layman language and then that dentist will consider your ad unprofessional. In the end I think the client relented, but you can't get angry or impatient with these people, because they'll just take their money to a different translator. If that client doesn't accept what you're saying, then you'll be putting that layman word in your text, then the ad might not be as effective as the company was hoping, and whose fault is it? Yours, because your correspondent in the company isn't going to admit that they were a pain in the neck about it."

"Sebastian isn't exactly going to starve if he doesn't give in to his clients' every whim."

"But he really wants to move out, doesn't he? He really wants to move to the city. And he doesn't like company much, so I imagine he'll prefer not having to share an apartment with five other guys who never clean up after themselves. That requires a steady income."

Also, I'm now thinking: my parents now have a free room in their house. They might be willing to rent it to Sebastian. They're quiet and respectful, all he'll have to worry about then is my ass of a little brother. He might be able to unwind a bit if he's not forced to live with Demetrius. And be closer to the potential job interviews.

"You think he can actually make it?" Robin asks me hopefully. I shrug.

"That's going to depend on how good he is, I don't know. But if he's good and he has a good work ethic, I don't see why not."

"Not sure what an employer is going to say of his work ethic of only coming out of bed by noon," Demetrius remarks.

"Demetrius, I'm sorry, but it sounds like you're intentionally being hard on him. Work ethic is about being efficient and getting stuff done. Research has proven that different people have different natural circadian rhythms and that they work best when allowed to follow those. Night owls are proven to be more creative in general, and also it's just easier to get stuff done at night when no one else is awake to bother you. If you know that studies in cubicle farms have shown that a person may need up to twenty minutes to get full concentration on their tasks back after they've been interrupted – something I've also noticed myself when working for Joja – then I do have the impression that working when you're least likely to be interrupted is a valid tactic."

"Oh, I'm sure any employer will hear that he prefers to start working at noon and easily allow him whichever work hours he likes."

"You seem to believe that they would not. For one, my father started out working an afternoon shift. Secondly, he's always talking about a guy in the company who isn't bothered with working hours, just deadlines – because he's so good, they will give him anything to prevent him from leaving. As long as he delivers quality work by the deadline, he can do anything he likes. So it is possible – you just have to be good, as I said. Otherwise, yeah. You just spend your life working nine-to-five, or you stay a freelancer."

"So you believe it's fine that the boy has no rhyme or reason in his life and just does whatever he feels like without caring if it kills him?"

That's probably at least partly about the smoking. Robin gasps a little but doesn't say anything.

"I believe that a person will learn from the examples they are given, as soon as they actually need said examples. I used to sleep in until nearly noon whenever I got the chance, and in college that was pretty often. I never learned how to cook because I never needed to. And my parents were very tolerant. They would express their disagreement with things I did, but they haven't given me a real order since I was twelve. If I was asked to clean up something, I did it without mentioning that I didn't make the mess, because if my mother only cleaned up her own messes, the house would constantly look like a hurricane had passed through – but my messy room was my problem, and my mother would comment on it but never force me to clean up. Now, I get up at six am every morning. My house isn't exactly spotless all the time but it's always in order. I may leave my dirty dishes in the sink for a day, but it's only going to be one day. And I learned to cook, because I need decent food to do my work, and microwave meals will just clog up my arteries. In college I had this friend who lived in dorms – I didn't need to – and for the first few months, he would be wearing nothing but underpants or dirty clothes when I came over. He went to classes unshaven, never cleaned up his dorm, and told me that he ate his dinner every night, straight from the pan, while sitting on the floor just because he could. Nobody was going to bother him. If anyone came and told him not do do that, he'd just send them up the nearest tree. Because he'd never had that kind of freedom in his life and he just wanted to savor it. Then after a few months, he started realizing that people shave because beards are hot and itchy, that they don't eat dinner sitting on the floor because that kills your back, and that if you don't shower or wash your clothes for a month, you're just not going to have any friends left. And he cleaned himself up. He's a respectable member of society now. So from my perspective, it's really better not to try and force people to do certain things a certain way – as long as you give them the correct examples, they will end up following those as soon as they actually need to. Let Sebastian sleep until noon while he can. He's working and he's making money, that's more than you can say for some of the other teenagers in town. It's not necessary to have him do the laundry every week, as long as he knows how the machine works he'll be fine. If he manages to make enough money to move out by freelancing, he can go on sleeping until noon, and if he doesn't he'll have to get an official job and get into the nine-to-five like the rest of the schmucks. It's his life. Let him figure it out. He'll suffer the consequences of his actions, and that's how we humans learn."

"Sorry, Evan, but if I'm going to be doing the laundry once a week I'm not going to be the only one," Maru chips in.

"As I said. If your mother only cleaned up her own messes, the house would be looking like a sty all the time. An adult is generally capable of doing what needs to be done because it needs to be done. How exactly that works depends a lot on the family. In some cases, everyone has one particular task to do. I used to be delegated to the laundry, my sister to the floor, and my brother to the dishwasher. In other cases, everyone just kinda does whatever needs to be done when it needs to be done. It's possible to have a household where one person's only responsibility is making money and the other person's only responsibility is the cleaning. But you have to take individuals into account. My brother is responsible for the dishwasher because he made a scene about the other two tasks – he didn't want to clean floors and he didn't want to do laundry. And he did the dishwasher without complaining too much because he knew the other two options were worse, from his perspective. If you want Seb to chip in one way or another, you can give him the choice of either paying to have everything done for him, or doing a part of the work himself. You can also turn him out of the house so he'll have no choice but to start doing everything himself. But in his case, I think what matters is that he don't feel like he's being treated like a child or an inferior. Don't tell him "you have to do this". Tell him he has a choice. Present it as the kind of thing every adult has to go through – because it is, if you get right down to it. Either do the work or pay to have it done – like in real life. And if you don't like it, you can leave right now and then you'll have to do everything yourself but you also get to keep all your money. You know, after rent, bills, and food. Your choice."

"Hmm," Demetrius responds. "There's something to that."

"But if you take away his money, he's going to need more time to move out," Robin says worriedly.

"Well, no. Unless you expect him to actually buy a house or an apartment right now. I don't know about you, but most people start out renting – and for that, you don't need savings, you need a steady income. If you can be sure that you'll make a thousand gold every month, you can afford an apartment of six hundred per month so you'll have enough left for bills and food and stuff."

"But then he'll be losing almost all the money he makes every month, he won't be able to save. That way he'll never be able to buy."

"Have you asked him if he's interested in buying?"

"Who on Earth would not want to buy?"

"Maybe someone who finds it easier to call the homeowner when something breaks down, instead of paying someone out of their own pocket to have it fixed. You can fix everything yourself, Robin, but most people can't. If my water pipes break when it's freezing, I'm paying you to fix it, and you know the kind of prices you ask. If I get a leak in my roof, same thing. If I get woodworm, woe be unto my bones. If my fridge breaks down, I have to pay either for the repair or for a new one. And the longer I live in that place, the older everything gets, the more frequently things are going to break. However, if it's the owner's fridge, I call the owner, and he can figure it out, but he'd better do it quickly, because I have rights. Besides, a house is an anchor. If you decide to move somewhere else, it'll be sitting there decaying; or you'll have to find renters that will hopefully not break the house down while you're not there, and then hop over every time they have a problem because it's your responsibility to fix it; or you'll have to sell it, and that can take years if you don't want to sell at a loss. I'm not saying that buying is bad by definition, but it's going to depend on what a person finds important, and possibly also on their future plans. If you're poor, you rent. Meanwhile you work yourself up in your field until you're making more, and then you can save up to buy – or you can just rent a better place. Or you can stay where you are and use your savings to go on vacation, or to buy a car that fits all your children. Or you buy a camper and travel around the world for a few years."

"Sounds like you weren't really interested in buying yourself until you got the farm," Maru says.

"I worked in the university cafeteria for a couple years. You catch a lot of conversations about wild future plans," I smile. "I was planning to copy my parents' life, because it seemed to be a pretty good life. Then I ran into Joja, as mentioned."

"But you don't want kids."

"I don't consider them essential. You also have to remember it's not as easy for me to have them. If I'm ever steady enough on someone to start considering it, the other person's opinion will be just as important to me as mine."

"You can pay women, you know. For a baby. With artificial insemination."

"I know. There's also hundreds of children in this country who don't have parents. They're already there, and they're getting psychologically scarred by being in the foster system. If I'm going to go into children, it's going to be through adoption."

"Just so you're aware, the waiting lists are years long."

"Yes, I know that too. I don't mind."

"And they don't like to adopt out to gay couples."

"Yes. I know," I answer, slowly and with emphasis. "Thank you for… making sure, but I have already done some research, I know about the main pitfalls. If I ever reach the point of going through with it, I'll do more research then. I'll be fine."

"Alright. Apologies."

"So, Maru, are your strawberry plants still alive?"

"Oh, yes, you have to come see them."

The conversation stays safely in non-controversial topics for the rest of the evening. When I leave, Robin remembers that she also has a birthday gift for me – a pretty lamp.

I walk home, get changed and go to bed still wondering if I should have said all the things I said. I honestly don't believe Sebastian wouldn't have noticed that whole conversation about him. I stand by the things I said, but I'm just hoping he's not going to come tell me what's what if they tell him tomorrow that he can either scram, pay for the chores that are being done for him, or do some of them himself. I would have liked to go into that entire conflict between Seb and Demetrius from the start, but in the end what needs to be changed is how they communicate right now. If I've put it through Demetrius's skull that he'll be better off treating Sebastian as an adult and not telling him how to live every facet of his life, that'll be something.

Really the best thing that can happen to Sebastian is moving out of that house. If he does come talk to me about all this, I guess I can immediately tell him about my parents' empty room. Maybe my dad can get him a leg up to a job in IT. With the pay from that he should be able to pay rent – my parents aren't going to charge him too much – and he'll be able to live his freedom and then hopefully reach that point of realizing that those things people tell him to do are simply things that need to be done.

It's not like I never wish I could just go home for dinner.