For Sure & Certain (6 page)

“Goldie, thank God you’re here.” Her mom’s face rounded the corner, relief flooding her face. “You never answered my texts, I thought for sure you’d jumped off the roof or something.”

“That ‘s not funny,” Marigold said quietly, but no one heard her. She knew her parents were angry about her choices, but she couldn’t believe her dad would say that publically. She felt judged enough as it was.

“It’s not that big of a deal. And the thing is, it’s kind of true.” Lily crossed her arms.

“Don’t say that. Did she read it then?” Eileen asked Cedar.

“I showed her one article, she didn’t want to read anymore.”

“Typical.” Lily rolled her eyes.

“Well, she shouldn’t. It’s only going to hurt her; you know how sensitive she is. Have you heard from your father?”

“He’s outside.”

“I didn’t expect that.” Eileen pursed her lips. “This is awkward.”

“I’m right here,” Marigold said, but no one heard her say that, either. Instead they all turned to the patio door as her dad walked inside, raising a glass to his family.

“Max,” Eileen said. “I tried calling you all day.” She walked over and gave him a hug.

The children watched their parents embrace. Marigold felt her brother’s fuming, her sister’s confusion. Lily looked pityingly at her older sister with her big, round eyes. Marigold looked away, and met Cedar’s gaze instead.

“You owe her an apology, Dad,” he said on his sister’s behalf.

“For what? Do you disagree with what I said?” her dad asked.

“It wasn’t very nice.”

“But you agree?” her dad pressed. “Because I’m not going to make apologies for the truth. You’re a philosophy major, you can appreciate my erudite take on false praise, sugar coating reality.” He poured himself another glass of whisky, eyes locked on his only son. The son that forced him into a life of fatherhood, one all the children knew he never much wanted. That was clear every time he became inebriated past the point of socially acceptable drunkenness.

“Marigold didn’t deserve that.”

“She can speak for herself.”

But she didn’t. She just looked around the room, seeing her family for what they were. A mother who gave up her ideals for a man who offered her a better stipend as his wife than a protestor could ever garnish. A brother who had convictions, but when pressed couldn’t stay true to them. A sister who judged heartlessly. A father who cared more about self than the preservation of family.

She knew that left her on the other side of everything. ,

“Can we just forget about this?” Eileen asked. “Put out a press release, Max, and we’ll pretend it didn’t happen. We really don’t need this drama now.”

“They want to interview her,” Cedar said. “All the bloggers are calling for her side.”

“She can’t do that. She’s a liability,” Eileen said quickly.

“She will not be the face of our family,” Lily said, adamant.

“Don’t worry, guys,” Marigold tried to reassure them. “There’s no way I am going to be the face of anything.”

“I’ll release a statement in the morning. Nothing will change over a few sentences that are true.” Max looked at Marigold, disappointment filling his face. “This wouldn’t have happened you know, if you’d done what you were supposed to.”

Somehow this was her fault and Marigold didn’t argue. She nodded ever so slightly, enough to tip the tears back in her eyes.  Enough to muster the courage to walk out of the kitchen. Enough to avoid the people meant to protect and love her.

She walked away and didn’t look back, not knowing where she was going.

Abel

He didn’t call her.

When he returned from the museum he told Lacey about his day with Marigold; Lacey seemed surprised, but he was also obviously high.

“Are you on something?” Abel asked as he took a seat in the beanbag chair on the floor. Lacey was easy to get along with and Abel didn’t want to hassle him, but he also didn’t want to have his status as a Jamestown student put in jeopardy because of his roommate’s habits.

“Want some?” Lacey pulled a stick of beef jerky from his bag.

Abel took it, and read the label,
soft and chewy with teriyaki flavor, an original cannabis-infused product, recommended use: 1 inch
.

Shaking his head, Abel handed it back. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“Ain’t no thang.”

“Are you like an original gangster or something?” Abel asked.

“I had no idea the Amish were so progressive. You know about OG’s?”

“Honestly, no,” he said laughing. “But I’ve heard my friend Joshua use the term when he was high.”

“Okay, back to the girl. What’s she like?”

“She’s everything. She isn’t intense, she’s soft. I know it sounds corny, but she reminds me of home.”

After taking another bite from his jerky, Lacey gave him a sidelong glance.

              “You think you can handle a non-Amish girl? I mean, no offense, but you’re experience is limited.”

              “What do you know about my experience?” Abel knew Lacey was right though, all day he’d felt a few steps behind Marigold, with her unexpected laugh and bright eyes, and absolute ease. Realizing he was totally out of his league with her, he found himself fumbling for the jerky and taking a bite.

“Abel, you pissed your entire family off to come here. Maybe focus on the Intensive, it would suck to lose your edge because of some girl no matter how hot she is.”

Nodding slowly, Abel took his advice. He had to trust Lacey more than anyone else here because he had exactly zero experience with English girls. If Lacey thought he should back off Marigold, maybe he should.

“But you’re all about the girls here, Lacey, why is it different for me?”

“Because you have a hell of a lot more at stake than I do.” Lacey, who had clearly consumed more than the recommended inch of dried meat and pot, was giving reasonable advice.

Advice that left Abel conflicted. He didn’t want to back off.

***

The pace of school began to pick up on Monday morning, which was good for Abel. He did best when he was overworked, when his mind was filled with projects and deadlines and ideas. All week he’d felt idle.

Except when he’d been with Marigold.

Marigold, with her angelic hair and nonjudgmental eyes. Marigold, who was an enigma, a passage straight out of a Shakespearean play.

Marigold, the girl he swore he saw when he walked into Practical Business Application.

“What do you want?” the girl asked. “You’re totally staring at me.”

Not Marigold. Marigold belonged in the clouds, where the atmosphere was gentle and soft. He’d made a mistake by letting her evaporate. Obviously he’d never take the advice from a stoned guy again.

“Sorry. You look like someone I know,” he said, awkwardly taking a seat next to her.

“Well, I don’t know you.”

Her eyes were the same though, and so was her hair, her shape. It dawned on him.

“You’re Lily, Marigold’s sister,” he said sitting next to her.

“Um. Yes. We share the same DNA. That’s basically it.”

“I see that.” Abel tried to hide his smile, these sisters were nothing a like, that was clear.

“You know her or something?”

“Ja, we’re friends.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Professor Trape walked in the room, but instead of describing the syllabus or highlighting the “importance of a program” such as this like last week, he explained how study groups were an integral part of the Business Intensive. The groups were important, as the final test of the course would be given as a group, and the group with the highest grade would earn a handwritten letter of recommendation. A letter that had never once, in all the fourteen years Trape taught this course, resulted in anything less than acceptance into the School of Business at Jamestown University.

The classroom of twenty students went quiet, everyone hanging on each word from Trape’s mouth. This was the reason Abel was here, the part he hadn’t told his parents. The secret possibility of attending the most prestigious University in the country.

And you know, disappoint his entire community.

“I suggest you take the next week analyzing your assets and those of your classmates. In one week, come to class prepared to pick your groups. As a cohort, you will be spending countless hours together, you’re in the same seminars and lectures for this Intensive.”

Lacey raised his hand, “What is the final test on exactly?” Abel knew that while he liked to get high, he was also smart. Smart enough to get accepted here, and smart enough to be in a group with.

“That will be revealed over the course, though you already have the syllabus and course reading material. Anything is fair game.”

“But once we pick our group, it’s final?” a girl with thick black glasses asked.

“Exactly.” Without any more discussion, Trape moved onto a lecture titled,
Crucial Skills for Tomorrow’s Leaders.

Abel pulled out his notebook and began taking copious notes, silently observing the classmates around him. Everyone sat bent over their tablets and computers. He didn’t necessarily intend to go to Jamestown for college, but he did intend to win. He didn’t come all this way for nothing.

***

Later that night Abel and Lacey sat at a table in the dining hall discussing the study groups. Abel ate a plate of penne pasta and wilted greens, wishing for a tuna casserole in his mom’s kitchen. Lacey sat with a tray of desserts. He had the munchies. Again.

“So do you know any of the other students, who you’d like to partner up with?” Abel asked, spearing a tomato.

“You know that one girl who wear’s Zelda costumes to class?” Lacey pointed across the dining hall to a girl wearing a small gold crown on her head. She sat alone. “I want to be in a group with her. What about you?”

“I don’t know. No one’s really talked to me. Sure, I dress different from them, but it’s like they think I’m from another planet.”

“Well, then we should totally be in a group with her,” he said pointing again. “I mean, she’s dressed as a Nintendo character, she’s not gonna judge you.”  Lacey laughed to himself, and then said, “I bet she’s into role playing.”

“Ha.” Abel said, not missing a beat. “Honestly, I hate this, proving myself to a bunch of people I don’t know.”

“Welcome to the real world, Abel. It’ll only get harder.” Lacey set down his pudding cup, elbows on the table. “Joking aside, you earned a spot here, and that’s without the help your classmates had.”

“Being smart and understanding test prep books don’t really matter when people are choosing a group member, do they?” Abel remembered picking volleyball teams back at the Singings he attended at home. The youth would gather for their weekly evening together, and before sitting on benches for rounds of songs, they would play volleyball. Teams weren’t just chosen based on physical ability, a chance to play next to a pretty girl trumped winning. He didn’t know the rules here.

“If all else fails, and no one wants to be in our group, we can offer them my stash of edibles.”

Abel smiled tightly, knowing it would be easy if it were as simple as that.

***

Back in the dorm room, the landline rang for the first time. “Abel, it’s for you,” Lacey said in surprise. “It’s your brother.” No one had called for Abel since they had moved in together a few weeks ago, and Lacey only used his cell. Abel grabbed it, filled with worried, not expecting a phone call from his family.

“Hello? Eli, is everything okay?” Abel asked.

“Ja, bother, ‘tis.” Eli’s voice was easy and light and Abel’s heartbeat slowed, grateful everything was okay at home. “But I was calling for your help, I could really use it.”

“Must be mighty important for you to use a telephone.”

“Tis a business call, I’m not breaking the Ordung.” Abel assumed as much, the Ordung was the governing book in which the Amish built their lives around.

“I didn’t say you were, just surprised is all, your voice sounds different through the wire.”

“You really want to talk about my voice, or do you want to know why I’m calling?”

“Get on with it then.” Abel smiled, hearing his brother’s voice was more comforting than he’d expected.

“The shearing for this weekend is a mess. Dad’s not saying it, but I know he’s overwhelmed.”

“I left instructions, Eli.” Abel had spent weeks detailing the shearing that needed to take place this weekend. It was a big job and one he’d overseen last year as it had been his idea to purchase the second flock that had a wool yield, in addition to the sheep flock they always kept for meat. “Dad did it for decades without me, surely he can manage on his own again.”

“Not for such a large band, he grew up with maybe a hundred sheep to shear. Your new system has a thousand.”