Chapter 3 ~ An Old Friend

~~~~

The following week, things kicked off with a surprising twist. Lisa and Lora were back in school, their tuition fees finally sorted, while I stayed behind, embracing my new role as the family’s resident farmhand.

My mornings were spent helping Mom and Papa on the farm, and by afternoon, I’d transform into a savvy market vendor, haggling over the price of vegetables, fruits, and spices that I’d painstakingly gathered from our land.

At first, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Let’s just say, I wasn’t born with a green thumb.

But after almost two years of back-breaking work, I became a bit of a farming prodigy—well, at least in my eyes. I could tell when the soil was just right, spot a ripe tomato from a mile away, and even shoo away pesky critters without breaking a sweat.

Sometimes, when Mom and Dad couldn’t make it to the fields, I’d step in, working tirelessly under the sun. I was convinced it was up to me to keep everything running smoothly. Mom and Papa weren’t getting any younger, and I felt like it was my responsibility to pick up the slack.

Besides, if I’m being real, the farm was starting to grow on me—or maybe I was just too stubborn to admit I was turning into a full-fledged farmer.

Honestly, the day I caught myself arguing with a chicken about who gets the last tomato was the day I knew there was no turning back. Pretty soon, I’d be looking like Mom and Dad: old, dirty, and rocking that permanent farmer’s hunch. But hey, as long as I was helping the family, it didn’t bother me... much.

Except, yeah, it did. I blinked, and suddenly I was twenty, while Lisa and Lora scored scholarships to finish their grades in the fancier parts of Chicago.

Meanwhile, I became what I like to call a “shop owner.” But let’s be real—it was more like a glorified fruit stand where I’d set up my farm produce at the counter market. Still, I was ‘happy.’ Or at least, I had to be happy, right?

I was known for selling the best veggies and spices in town. Even the local restaurant owners were regulars at my stand, chatting me up like I was some sort of produce celebrity. Things were going well, but let’s just say I wasn’t exactly rolling in the dough.

Then, Papa’s health took a nosedive, and he had to stop working on the farm. Every penny I made went straight into his medical bills, and as much as I loved my little stand, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was meant to do something more—something different.

After all, I was twenty now, and the world was supposedly my oyster… though all I had was a bunch of vegetables.

So, one day, I gathered the nerve and approached one of the restaurant owners who bought my produce. I asked if they needed an extra hand, half expecting him to laugh me off because, let’s face it, my education level wasn’t exactly Ivy League. But to my shock, he actually said yes.

I rushed home with the news, half expecting Mom and Dad to throw a fit—and, of course, they did. But after some classic parental sighs and eye-rolls, they came around. Not that they had much of a choice. With them taking over the veggie stand, I started working at the restaurant. It wasn’t exactly glamorous—cleaning tables and dealing with moody chefs wasn’t part of my big dreams—but at least it was something different. And just like that, another six months flew by.

Ah, God, what should I do with myself?

I found myself sitting outside the restaurant one late evening, after my shift, lost in thought, when I heard a voice call out, “Johnson, is that you?”

I turned around, squinting against the light reflecting from the street bulb above us, to see a young, neatly dressed lady giving me a curious glance. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite place it. Then it clicked, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Oh my God!” I blurted out. “Rachael! Rachael Berry?”

She nodded, and I couldn’t believe it.

Rachael Berry, right in front of me, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine—polished, perfect, and definitely not sweating over carrots and cucumbers like the rest of—well, like me, still piecing my life together one vegetable at a time.

“I knew it was you,” she said, pulling me into a tight hug. “You’re the only person I know whose sad expressions somehow make everything look poetic.”

“Ah, shut up, you’re an idiot,” I laughed, shaking my head. Leave it to Rachael to find beauty in misery—something only an old friend would do.

Rachael had been my school buddy back in the day, back before the idea of college was more of a dream than a reality for me. Then, she just up and vanished after her birthday party, leaving me with more questions than answers. “Where did you disappear to after that birthday party? You just dropped off the face of the earth,” I said, my voice filled with the tiniest bit of sadness.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, her smile fading as she sat down on the creaky wooden bench beside me. “My father came for me. I told you about my parents getting a divorce, right?”

“Yeah, I remember you mentioned something like that,” I nodded, the old memories rushing back.

Rachael always had that chaotic family drama going on, like a soap opera that got way too real.

“Well, it happened,” she sighed. “My new stepfather, for some reason, just couldn’t handle me being around. No matter what my mom said, he was dead set against it. So, my dad swooped in from London and took me with him. It all happened so fast, I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye or tell anyone. Living with Dad wasn’t exactly easy, but at least I was somewhere I was wanted.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that. I had no idea. Honestly, I just thought my best friend had abandoned me,” I admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Nonsense, Mary,” Rachael shot back, her face suddenly serious. “You know I’d never do that.”

“Yeah, sorry. Convincing myself that you’d ditched me was the only way I could sleep at night without spiraling into panic over what might’ve happened to you,” I confessed.

Rachael raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “I would’ve preferred you to worry yourself sick and lose sleep rather than think I’d ditch our friendship like that, Mary.”

“I know, I know… I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“Hmph, whatever; Forget about me for a sec—what’s been going on with you? I ran into Dora the other day and asked about you. She mentioned something about you dropping out of college. Why? I mean, come on, you were always the school nerd. What happened?” she asked, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Oh, it’s nothing important; you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Are you kidding me right now, Mary? Back in grade school, we used to call you a freak, you know why?”

“What? Seriously, I didn’t even know I had a nickname like that.” I laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Well... I came up with it. Cool, right?” Rachael grinned proudly, like she’d just invented the wheel or something.

“Cool? Are you crazy? How on earth does being called a ‘Freak’ translate to cool? For Pete's sake!”

“Well... yeah, that was in the past,” she shrugged, quickly trying to change the subject. “Anyway, my point is, I came up with that nickname because you were obsessed with studying, Mary. You were clever, brilliant even, to the point where you’d give teachers a headache with all your corrections and questions. So now, you expect me to believe that someone who loved school, studied, and dreamed of traveling the world just suddenly dropped out for no reason? Please, what do I look like? A fool? Come on, Mary, what really happened?”

I let out a deep sigh, I’d forgotten just how much of a pain Rachael’s persistence could be. It was no wonder she didn’t get along with the others at school. “Well... it’s good to see that you haven’t changed.”

“Ha, ha, ha, wish I could say the same about you. Now spill it,” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest; which, by the way, had definitely grown since the last time I’d seen her. I glanced down at my own and, well... let's just say they were not as ambitious.

I sighed again, she wasn’t going to let this go until I spilled every last secret. “Seriously? Fine,” I muttered, throwing my hands up in surrender.

Rachael leaned in, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, like she was about to binge-watch a drama series.

I braced myself, knowing a barrage of questions was coming. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my decision back then—okay, maybe there were a few moments of regret here and there, but shame? Not really.

~~To Be Continued~~