Finally Got an Aircon

That evening, the whole family sat around the dinner table, laughing and trading gossip.

No one asked how my online interview had gone. No one noticed my hands shaking with the effort of holding back tears.

Halfway through the meal, my sister, Beth Ford, dropped her spoon with a huff. "It's too hot. I can't eat a bite without air conditioning. I'm going back to my room."

My dad, Dennis Ford, stopped her. "You can't skip dinner. Just take your bowl and eat in your room with the AC on. It really has been hotter than usual this summer. Tell you what, I'll call someone tomorrow to install a unit in the living room too."

Beth lit up instantly, and my brother, Monty Ford, clapped in delight.

I was the only one who went somewhere else in my head, back eighteen years, to the day my dad had said, "The wiring's too old to run any more appliances. Your room won't be getting an air conditioner."

I didn't argue. I just looked up and said quietly, "My interview earlier didn't go well. They said it was too loud on my end, like I wasn't taking it seriously."

Dad set a piece of fish on Monty's plate and gave a flat, distracted "oh."

I couldn't help pushing further. "Before the interview, didn't I ask you all more than once not to come in and interrupt me?"

My mom, Sandra Ford, set down her bowl. "Are you blaming your father? This is our house. Does he need your permission to walk into a room?

"Besides, if you failed the interview, that's on you for not being good enough. Don't talk about people not taking you seriously. They were being polite instead of telling you the truth."

My grip on my spoon tightened until my knuckles ached, the words stuck in my throat.

Ten seconds of silence passed before Dad spoke again. "All right, so you failed. It's not the end of the world. I already talked to the auto shop down the street for you. You're strong, you can handle hard work. An apprenticeship there suits you fine. It's close by, and you can help look after us down the line."

"I spent four hard years earning a college degree, and you want me to..." I started to protest.

He cut me off before I could finish.

"Kiddo," he said, turning to Monty, all smiles, "you did well this time. Since you're off to college, it's about time we raised your allowance."

He beamed at Monty. "Let's bump it from $1500 to $2000. $500 more a month!"

Monty was so thrilled he spun in a circle in the living room.

I lost my appetite completely.

All four years of my own degree, my allowance had stayed at 800 a month. It never once went up.

Last week, when the internship offered me an in-person interview, I'd needed a hundred dollars for travel and asked my dad for it. He'd said money was tight, that he didn't have that much cash on hand, and told me to request an online interview instead.

He wasn't short on money. He just didn't want to spend it on me.

I couldn't eat another bite. I got up to go back to my room.

I'd taken two steps when Dad called out to me.

I stopped, a flicker of hope rising in my chest.

But when I turned around, all he said was, "Go do the dishes."

Whatever thread had still been holding inside me finally snapped.

My throat tightened, and I forced out a single word. "Okay."

After washing the dishes, I carried the kitchen scraps downstairs and dumped them in the trash bin. Then I took out my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello. Is the Institute still hiring? I'd like to come work there."

The man on the other end paused. "Didn't you say you were too attached to home to handle confidential work?"

"I've made up my mind. I'd rather have a good job than go home for the holidays."

He agreed without hesitation. "Glad to have you. Send me your ID information later, and I'll book your ticket. Pack your things. You'll only get to go home once a year working here."

Battisata's sun beat down at well over a hundred degrees.

I couldn't tell if my scalp was tingling from the heat or if my head was spinning from something closer to joy.

I asked one more question. "Do the staff dorms at the Institute have air conditioning?"

"Of course. Fully furnished, all brand new."

I nodded hard. Back home, I shut my bedroom door and gently touched the old fan that had kept me company for twenty-two years.

"After I'm gone," I told it, "you won't have to work so hard anymore."