Chapter Eight: At her dad's funeral, a grieving Gwen learns she can't go back "home"--to the family farm.
photo by ldyck
Chapter Nine
My strained relationship with Mother became like an old pair of panties. The shot piece of elastic that had once held us together had no more pull. So I avoided her. I stayed away—night and day, only returning when I thought she must be asleep or away from the house.
One day, I watched her car drive away. I thought she was gone, but she was waiting for me in the kitchen—she must have doubled back.
“I've got to go,” I told her.
“Where?” The word was a challenge—stay if you're strong enough and I refused to appear weak around her.
We squared off—Mother at one end of the kitchen, me at the other.
“I've allowed you to muddle through to the eleventh grade, but this is where the muddling ends. It's time you consider your future. McNamaras are university graduates.”
“I'm a Bjarnson, not a McNamara,” I shot back. “I have a plan and it doesn't involve university.”
“You can't mean... You can't mean knitting? Knitting is just a hobby.”
“That's what you think.”
“This is my house. The only thing that matters is what I think.”
“Well, I guess it's time for me to move then.”
“Bye.” She clenched her jaw.
There was only one place for me to go—out. But beyond that? My first thought was to run home to the farm, to Auntie Ollie. But she had made it clear that I couldn't go back there. The blood that bonded me to the Bjarnsons was diluted by McNamara blood. Second thought...
