Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lolly

Watching the leaves fall outside helps me not to lose my shit. It would be unladylike to say what I want to say about my sister right now… and my mom would probably give me that disappointed look that she so easily gives me but never my sister. I just have to remember that I have friends who really care about me, an actual business that is doing really well, and having to post bail would set that business back. Oh, and I can open doors and turn on the stove all by my little lonesome. All things I am sure my sister can't do.

“Sweetie, you’re so strong and self-sufficient, we know you can take care of all of this.”

Why is it that when Dad says words like ‘strong’ and ‘self-sufficient’ they sound like he is calling me something more akin to an orc than a woman? Can I take care of myself? Hell yes! Do I want someone to baby me and take care of me? Hell yes! One doesn't cancel out the other, damn it. And I would rather have an Orc than be one.

It’s a fucked up paradigm that even I don’t understand, okay. I just know what I want, and it is not to be treated like I am some lumberjack with hair on my chest, thank you very much, Dad!

And all of this? It’s a huge fucking farm! He thinks I can take care of myself and the fucking farm – back-breaking work that leaves you worn down and bitter if you don’t put your whole heart and soul into it. Don’t get me wrong! I love the farm. It’s been in my family for years and has always been my safe place, my sanctuary from all the bullshit out in the world. But can I take care of it by my fucking self? My father can’t take care of it by his own damned self. Yet, somehow, I’m supposed to do it because I’m strong and self-sufficient. Like a lumberjack.

What a load of shit!

“Don’t worry sweetie. We’ve hired someone to come help.”

“Someone to come help? Take care of the farm?”

Both of them nod.

“Oh, and the man who is thinking about buying it is also coming, so please, please be nice.” My mom is begging like I have horrible manners and just go around telling people exactly what I think about them. I’m from the South! I have impeccable manners… when I want to!

It just so happens; that this is a touchy topic for me. They want to sell a piece of property, our home, that has been in our family for years - my grandfather bought it when he first got married to my grandmother - so they can take better care of my older sister. They didn’t ask my opinion; they didn’t offer any other reason like dad’s health or mom’s inability to take care of it when he passes or that they want to spend their last days together bumming around America in a Winnebago, doing all the things they wanted to when they were younger. No! It’s because of my fucking sister.

My whole life I’ve had to take a back seat to her. She’s been the one babied by my parents, the one they coddled and took care of, the one they showed up for and would do anything for. I was always the one left on my own, abandoned and overshadowed by her big sister. It’s kind of hard not to hate Camilla, especially when she is the reason I am losing my childhood home because mom and dad want to move closer to her. All because she needs help taking care of herself.

In reality, she got herself knocked up - I’m not judging at all – but won’t take care of the baby once it comes - I am totally judging that! - and wants Mom and Dad to take care of her and the baby while she gets to pretend nothing has changed. She couldn’t be a bigger self-centered, egotistical, raging asshat than she already is.

But she’s worse… she has no problem rubbing it in when shit like this happens. No problem telling me that mom and dad would do anything for her and would leave me to figure shit out all on my own if it came down to it.

“Are you listening?” My mom has pulled out that whip-fast snip that she gets in her voice when she thinks I’m being a brat.

“Yes, mom. I’m listening.” I can do two things at the same time, unlike my ditz of a sister. “Farmhand is coming to help me out and the guy who wants to buy the place is also coming. Be nice to them.”

“The farmhand should be here early tomorrow while the other guy will get here sometime tomorrow afternoon, kiddo.” My dad makes sure I have the details. Not like I care.

They are selling the place; I don’t understand why they called me to come out here and disrupt my life just so some fucking rich guy can come buy it? It makes no sense. Wouldn’t it be easier on everyone if they just moved and sold the place later? Then I could stay at my apartment in the little town an hour away from here. I could be hanging with one of my besties not waiting for some farmhand to come so he can ‘help’ me.

Instead of asking, I just nod and wait. I wait for them to leave so I can take my frustration and anger out in the only way I have ever known. I beat the shit out of some dough!