16. Mae - StayBack to the City

Mae - Stay or Back to the City

Chapter sixteen

Upon the first sign of rain, Mina asks me to rush outside and cover the beehives with the particular rain covering that Dwight Summers sold us. Apparently, bees can handle most kinds of weather, but they don't like anything wet.

After that, I feed my family and then head out again to tend to the animals. Of course, this task is made even more difficult than normal because of the gusting winds and pouring rain. But I don't feel right about forcing my child or elderly grandfather out in the elements to get things done.

"Be careful, Mae," Grandpa Bob yells, from behind me.

"Uh-huh. I'll be fine."

Then, I open the doors and rush as fast as I can out into the barn.

On the way, I get drenched. And this whole ordeal is really making me miss the city, where I would probably be just chilling out on my couch without having to brave the elements to care for my yard or animals.

It's not like things are completely calm inside the house, either. We learned that Boris is deathly afraid of thunder, and he is cowering under Grandpa Bob's bed. Mina is trying to coax him out with some leftover turkey meat. Grandpa Bob, on the other hand, is busy trying to tend to the various leaks in the ceiling.

"Ugh! This is going to lead to mold!" I hear him complaining.

Well, we're only in this situation because of you! I once again daydream about what it would be like to be back living in my apartment.

I then go to the closet to get a towel to dry off with and check in on my daughter.

"How are things coming?"

"He hasn't budged."

"Poor thing."

"I just want him to come out, so I can hold him and tell him it's okay."

"I know, sweetie. But maybe it's best if we just leave him there until the storm passes. I mean, maybe he feels safer like that."

"You might be right." She stands up and eats the meat she was trying to tempt him with.

"You did not just do that."

"What? It's cooked."

"No, I know that. I'm more so referring to the fact that you were just waving it in a dirty, old dog's face."

She shrugs. "You're dripping on the floor."

As she's walking out of the room, I look down and notice that she's right.

"Ugh!" I stomp into the bathroom and change into my soft, warm robe.

While still inside, I continue to hear Grandpa's muffled laments about the weather. I swear I even hear him sneak in a few swear words. When I was a little girl, I used to make him put money in a jar when he used that kind of language. That's actually how I afforded my first bike.

Maybe I should reinstitute the swear jar. That could take care of my money issues. Of course, a few dollars here and there couldn't actually help the situation—but it was a funny idea to think about.

"Mae!" Grandpa Bob yells.

I grunt but open the door. "What is it, Grandpa?"

"I think we've run out of buckets to catch the rain in."

I go into the kitchen and collect the several Tupperware bowls inside the cupboards.

"Here you go."

"These are so shallow! They'll overflow in minutes."

"That's all I have. I'm sorry."

He says something under his breath but, nevertheless, continues his mission of keeping our home as dry as possible.

I watch as he hobbles around, trying to locate the exact spot where the moisture will be adequately captured.

"We're going to have to call someone to properly patch the roof up after this storm clears." Not that I have the money to afford any such service, but I also don't think Grandpa's body can keep up with all of this commotion.

"Nonsense. I can just do it."

"Grandpa. It's way too dangerous for you to be going up a ladder like that."

"Fine. I'll ask Dean to help me."

I'm reminded of all of my confusion and questions surrounding that very man. I must be frowning because the next thing I hear is "What's wrong?"

"I'm just frustrated. Maybe we should let him buy this place."

"But we just moved in."

"I know. But I'm starting to worry if we bit off more than we can chew."

"If it's the roof—"

"It isn't just that. It's everything. The animals. The lack of work as an attorney."

"But you hated your firm."

"I did. It was filled with misogynistic pigs. But I didn't hate the money the swine paid me twice a month."

"Life isn't all about money."

"No, but having it certainly helps make things easier."

"I guess. But when I look back at my long life, do you know what my favorite times are?"

"No."

"The ones when your grandmother and I didn't have a pot to pee in, but we had each other. And it felt like that was all that mattered."

"That's really sweet."

"And it's true. We'll get through this. Don't you worry."

If only it was that simple.

"Oops! That one is full," he comments, as I help hoist him out of his chair.

"Here." I take the bowl from him and walk it into the kitchen.

"Hurry back!"

"I know, I am."

"Thanks."

"So, what is the plan here? We're just going to watch and empty each little receptacle when it becomes full?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No."

"Right. So, all we can do is hope that the rain will stop."

***

No matter how much wishing and hoping we do, the storm does not let up.

We spend the night in the living room, playing cards, and taking turns when we can get little catnaps in.

"When will this be over?" Mina whines, while it's Grandpa Bob's turn to get a little shut eye.

"I know, it stinks. I'm sorry."

"I'm starting to wonder if we should've just stayed in San Francisco."

"Really? I thought you liked it here."

"I did—I do. But I would be sound asleep right now if we were in our apartment."

"I've been having very similar thoughts."

"You have?"

"Of course. I had to rush out in the rain to feed the animals. Do you think that's a sentence I thought I'd ever be saying?"

We laugh together.

"So, do you really want to move back?"

"I don't know. It seems wasteful to give up this soon. I mean, we just moved out here."

"And I'm going to be starting a whole new school soon."

"That's true. Are you still feeling excited about all of that?"

"Yeah. Excited and nervous."

"Totally understandable."

"I just don't want to deal with a whole new bullying situation."

I take my hand and lift her face up below her chin. "You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because the girls at your old school were from wealthy, snooty families. The kids around here all grew up on farms. So, they understand hard work and are probably much less interested in picking people apart and more focused on doing well in school and getting back home to help their parents."

"I guess."

"Trust me." With that, I know we can't leave. Not yet, at least. I want to give Mina the opportunity to try out the new school. And I hope I'm right about her fellow students.

That gives me the idea that we should bake cookies and hand them out to all of the neighbors and introduce ourselves. That way, she might get the chance to meet some of the kids before the first day.

Surprisingly, she agrees with me. So, we go into the kitchen and get to work.

"What do you think the other kids' names will be? Like Hezekiah and Ezekiel?" Mina asks me while rolling out the dough.

I laugh and blow some of the flour all over her.

"Hey, mom!"

"I'm sorry. That was just really funny. They're farm kids, babe. Not Amish."

She giggles back. "Oh, yeah. I suppose there is a difference."

"A pretty big one, I'd imagine. With the whole use of technology thing and all."

I take a spoon of icing and wipe it on her nose.

"Mom!"

Before we can say something else, Boris comes barreling down the hallway.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Listen. The thunder stopped."

He promptly approaches Mina and licks all of the icing off of her face. She just laughs, and I want to puke thinking of all the things his tongue has been on throughout the day. But it is an adorable scene. Even I have to admit that.

"What's all the chortling about?" Grandpa Bob comes into the kitchen and asks.

"Chortling?"

"It's an old-timey way to say laughing," I explain.

"Who are you calling old?"

"You, old man! I'm calling you old!" I point at him with the spatula in my hand.

"Me? Why I'm not a day over the spry age of thirty-eight."

"…You were older than that when my father was born."

He thinks back and has to "chortle" when he realizes that I'm right.

"Fine. Forty-eight."

"Getting closer—just add about forty years and some change."

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

I go over and kiss him on the cheek. "But age is just a number. And you will always be young at heart."

"Thanks, sweetie."

"Plus, you live with two fabulous young women. I assume our youthful energy will rub off on you."

And then I think about other ways to spend my youthful energy.