Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
“The rent is insane, Mom,” I say, dreaming of living on my own once again. It was great to come back and see my folks, but my mom’s constant nagging is really getting on my nerves. It’s hard to live on your own for seven years and then be shoved back into your childhood home with your meddling mom and miserable dad. “I still have to buy all of the equipment and hire staff. Then, there’s the marketing costs. Do you know how much an MRI machine costs?”
“What, five thousand dollars?”
“Try two hundred thousand for a used one,” I say, feeling hopeless. “It’s going to cost over a million dollars just to open a place. At least.”
My father lowers his newspaper, winces, and then puts it back up.
My mother tilts her head and gives me that annoying frown that makes me want to scream. “How much do you have?”
“Seven thousand dollars. That place on main is out of the question.”
“My friend Donna’s son works at the bank,” she says. I can tell her mind is racing. Never a good sign. “Maybe he can help you out with some loans?”
“For a million dollars?” I say with a scoff. “No thanks. I’ll be paying interest until the day I die.”
There is another option, but I don’t really want to tell her about it just yet. I’ve been looking into starting a mobile veterinary clinic and the more I read about it, the more excited I get. You can start one for about two hundred thousand dollars and it would allow me to service a much greater area than just the Greene Mountains. I’ll also be able to service horses, cows, goats, donkeys, and all of the other ranch animals that are too big to throw in the car and drive into town with.
If I work really hard for the first couple of years, I’ll be able to pay it off pretty quickly. Then, once I have some dedicated clients and some cash coming in, I can rent out a place in town and start a larger clinic like my mother is envisioning.
“Donna’s son won’t saddle you with a bunch of interest,” she says. “Jake is such a nice boy. He was always so polite when he came trick or treating.”
“Are those eggs almost ready?” my father asks from behind his paper.
“That’s not how banks work, Mom,” I say, shaking my head. “I doubt that small town Jake sets the interest rates for a huge national bank.”
“He could,” she says as she walks over with the pan. My father grins as she slides two eggs onto his plate. “My point is, you should go ask him. You never know what’s possible until you ask.”
I know what’s not possible—My mother letting me eat my breakfast in peace.
“Plus, Jake is single and he’s cute.”
Oh my God. I can’t…
She puts the pan into the sink and grabs the toast out of the toaster.
“Ah, Sandra, that’s too burnt,” my dad complains when he sees them. “You have to put the setting on five, not six.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I was back in my dorm room in London. How did I deal with this for so many years?
“You told me it was too light on five!” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “Now, it’s too dark on six? I’m sorry, but there’s no five and a half on the toaster!”
“You gotta take it out before it springs up!”
“I’m not sitting beside the toaster with a timer just so you can have the perfect shade of toastiness! Make your own damn breakfast if you don’t like it.”
“Fine, then you can mow the lawn and trim the trees and fix the dryer—“
“When are you going to fix the dryer? I’ve been asking for three days!”
“I’ve been at work! You know work? The thing that pays for this toast you keep burning.”
My mom snatches the toast off his plate and takes a huge bite of it. “There! Now, you don’t have any toast, you big baby.”
I slide away from the table with my half-eaten bowl of cereal and quickly put it away. I have to get out of here while they’re distracted.
“Where are you going?” my mother asks as I head out the back door.
“I’m going for a run through the forest.”
“How far are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to take your phone?”
“No, I want to leave it here.”
“Why?”
She has to know everything. It’s enough to make me want to scream.
“If I bring it, I’ll just end up doom-scrolling through the news or looking on Instagram. I want to disconnect for a while.”
“But you don’t know your way around the forest anymore. You’ll get lost.”
“Mom, I grew up in these mountains. They’re in my blood. I can’t get lost.”
“I don’t like the idea of—“
“I’ll be fine,” I say as I dart out the door and sprint to the forest before she can get her running shoes and follow me out.