Someday

Jessie rested her hand against the window pane, running her fingers along the peeling white paint as she stared at dry fields. Brittle brown stalks withered in the bright noon sun, shrinking from searing rays. The once green plants of spring had folded in on themselves three months ago, before true summer had even begun. Wind picked up dust, sprinkling it against the glass, rustling the fields, which from the angle of the first story of the house, seemed to go on endlessly in all directions. She knew the fields were not infinite and that their farmland was small compared to their neighbors. She supposed they were fortunate no one had tried to take it from them, back when their plants grew. Back when their irrigation system worked. Back when it used to rain. Before mother earth had decided humanity was not worth supporting anymore and fully unleashed her wrath.

Jessie turned away, brushing a sweaty locke of dull brown hair from her forehead. She craved a shower, but if they had no water for plants, they didn’t have water for frequent bathing. They barely had enough to drink. Her greatest fear had been the well going dry, of dying from thirst. She supposed dying of hunger would be no better. 

The wooden floor creaked under her footsteps as she navigated the narrow hallway to the kitchen. Jessie’s sister, Hattie, stood, a pencil tucked between her teeth as she counted the little food they had remaining. The air was stuffy, making Jessie feel almost claustrophobic.

Hattie looked up, her dirty blonde hair held in a high ponytail, tendrils hanging in her face. “It’s not enough.”

“I know,” Jessie said, sinking into a wooden chair. They had both known. Hattie bothering to count was to avert boredom and a hapless hope more cans of food would emerge from the shadows.

“If we skipped lunch three times a week, we could maybe stretch it a little. I finished downstairs. The jars of preserves are holding well. I know you worried they wouldn’t hold, but they are preserves, after all.”

Jessie nodded mute, closing her eyes and pressing her palms on them. It was too much to think about. Stretching the food into winter would only mean they would die cold and hungry. She could imagine herself and Hattie out on the winter barrens, miles away, digging through frost to find remnants of plant life. Returning home to Emily with blue fingers and toes and nothing to show for their efforts.

“Emily can’t miss meals,” Jessie said. “And it would only be putting off the inevitable. I’d rather make the journey before the cold sets in.”

Hattie set down her clipboard and sat across from her. Jessie felt Hattie's eyes on her, eyes which seemed older than Hattie’s fourteen years. Struggling to maintain the farm on their own the last two years had not been easy. It had aged Jessie as well. She feared one day soon she would wake with grey strands in her hair, though at twenty, she thought those days should be long off.

Many things should have been far away. Taking care of two children and running a household, among them. She had never wanted to be a farmer. This wasn’t even her farm, technically. It was Emily’s inheritance from her father and mother, both of whom had perished during the plague year. Jessie was supposed to go to college, make something of herself. Go to parties and make bad decisions. All night study sessions, acing term papers and tests. A degree that would be the key to her future. She had even been accepted to a good college. It wasn’t her dream school, but it would have been great regardless. She sighed, desiring what could have been, dreading what was to come.

Hattie taped her pencil against the table. “Are you sure you want to go back there?”

Jessie snorted. “I despise the thought, but what else can we do? We can’t allow Emily to starve.”

Hattie was silent a moment. “We can find a way to stay here. Eliminating lunches, cutting to a meal and a half a day…”

“Maybe it would get us through most of winter, but we would need it to last until next harvest season. We can’t stretch it that far.”

Hattie sniffed and tears began to roll down her face. “I like it here.”

“I know, but we have to go to the city. Within the next few days.” Jessie reached across the table for her sister. It was at these moments she missed her mother. Her mother would have known the right thing to say. Jessie felt like she always said the opposite of what was needed. Her mother and father had gone on a trip overseas when the disasters began to strike in rapid succession. Jessie and Hattie had been staying with their aunt, uncle, and cousin Emily on their farm at the time. They had always hoped one day their parents would find their way back to them, but they never did.

Hattie dried her tears. “What will we even do there? There’s no guarantee we’ll find work. Everyone goes there when they give up out here.”

“Whatever suitable work we can find.” Jessie knew the city housed the worst and the best possible jobs, and those weren’t guaranteed. She refused to sink herself and Hattie to the less savory ones. The city was not a kind place, but they would make do. Going there was their only option. The only way to survive the winter. “We’ll return in the spring and try planting again. We’ll have our remaining food to live on, and whatever we bring back from the city, until harvest season. Maybe there will be more rain.”

“I should fix something for Emily to eat.” Hattie pushed back her chair, it squeaked across the floor, and drifted to the cans of food.

Jessie sat back, fighting the despair washing over her. She flicked her gaze to the ceiling fan, wishing it still worked, but the mechanics had busted. She had tried to repair it, but had no luck. Her repairs efforts had never been successful. She supposed they were lucky the solar panels hadn't broken yet. Her aunt and uncle had installed solar panels years ago, and they thankfully produced enough electricity to serve their needs. She wasn’t sure what they would do without power. Light was life, she thought.

“The wind is changing. The air will be bad,” Hattie said, looking out the window. “We’ll have to delay going.”

“By a day or two, no more.”

Hattie didn’t reply, instead she drifted down the hall. She had experienced a growth spurt over the last couple months. Her tie dye t-shirt stopped above the waist band of her shorts. They had a closet full of her aunt and uncle’s clothing, but Hattie was reluctant to touch them. Jessie herself had little to offer. They had arrived at the farm each with a suitcase, believing their stay to be no longer than a few weeks.

Jessie tapped her fingers against the table. The journey would be long on foot. A hundred miles. It would take them two weeks. Emily, at seven, could only walk so many hours a day. They may have to carry her, and in the heat, it would be excruciating. Perhaps they would travel at night, but that would increase their chances of an encounter with the bandits, unless they took the backroads as she did a year ago.... Jessie thrust her chin back, gritting her teeth at the planning, the memories. It was painful to think about. 

Hattie returned a moment latter with Emily prancing around her legs. Emily’s dark chestnut curls bounced around her face as she smiled adoringly up at Hattie. Emily sat down at the table eagerly and began devouring canned corn. Despite the loss of her parents, the warm weather, and being cooped up inside the house most days, Emily was a happy child. Jessie wished for Emily’s exuberance.

“I’m going to check out the car,” Jessie said, standing. She needed air.

“Do you think it will work this time?” Hattie asked.

Jessie shrugged. She was no mechanic. She just needed to be away for a moment. She loved Hattie and Emily, but the responsibility of caring of them sometimes became overwhelming.

She meandered to the barn, fingers trailing along tall dry grass when she spotted a figure coming down the road. She paused, watching, as Leigh from the neighboring farm approached.

Leigh grinned, swinging her arms. She wore a sweat drenched t-shirt and beige shorts, auburn hair tied back in a ponytail. Crinkles around her eyes and mouth. She was about forty, and had been a good friend to them the last couple years.

“Good to see you,” Jessie said, as Leigh engulfed her in a sweaty hug.

“You too, darlin’. I brought you the eggs we could spare this week.” She held out a small cardboard carton containing half a dozen eggs. Leigh regularly brought them eggs, as an everlasting thank you to Emily’s mother. Jessie’s aunt Rita had been an EMT and had saved Leigh’s life. They had remained close friends, until Rita had died.

Jessie accepted the cartoon gratefully, her smile at once genuine and forced. She would have to tell Leigh they were leaving so she would not waste her day coming over twice a month. “You know this means so much to us, Leigh.”

“I would say it is nothing, but you know.” Leigh’s smile faded for a moment, the weight of the world they lived in, survived in, pressing on her, as it did Jessie, before light bounced back in her eyes. “You and the girls should come by next week. It’s Chase’s birthday, you know, and we’re going to have a little celebration. Dancing, and such. Leo’s going to dust off the old record player. Chase would be so happy to see you.”

Jessie’s smile remained fixed and strained. She knew Leigh would bring up Chase. Leigh had been attempting to push the two of them together over the last year, stating at one point it was time for her younger brother to find a wife. Jessie didn’t want to be forced to be with anyone. Jessie and Chase had shared a drunken afternoon together in the fields, back when they still had alcohol, but she had decided to leave it at that. Chase was older than her by about five years, and nice to look at, but beyond that, Jessie couldn’t see the two of them working. He had tried to help them when the irrigation system broke, before they realized there was not enough water in the ground for it to draw upon.

“We would love to go, but we can’t. We’re going to the city to find work for the next six months. It’s good you came today, before we left.”

Leigh’s face fell. “The city is a dangerous place for young women. For children. It’s not like it used to be.”

“I went there a year ago. I know how bad it is.” Emily had needed medicine and Jessie had made the long trek to the city to find some. The price had been steep.

“And you’re going to walk all that way? Emily is going to walk all that way?”

“We never got the car to work again, so yes, we’ll walk,” Jessie said, slightly irritated. “We can’t stay here. Our crops are dead and we don’t have enough food. It’s our only option.”

Leigh pinched her lips with her upper teeth, and Jessie had a sinking feeling in her gut that Leigh would offer them what they needed. Leigh and her husband had maintained their farm well and it continued to be fertile with healthy green plants. It helped that they had two extra grown men, Leigh’s brothers, to help tend the fields. Even if they could spare enough for the three of them, Jessie didn’t want what Leigh would offer. It wouldn’t be charity, there was none of that anymore. It would come with a price, she just didn’t know what it would be.

“I hate to think of you going out there,” Leigh said. “You could come live with us. Chase could use a wife; he would look after you. All of you. We’d be one big family.”

Jessie shook her head. “What you offer is generous, but we can’t impose. I have to take care of us. It’s my responsibility, no one else.”

“Jessie.”

“Thank you for the eggs. You’ve always been good to us.”

Jessie turned around, leaving Leigh behind, but stopped as Leigh spoke. “You could leave Emily with us. The city is no place for a child. I’ve always wanted children, but could never conceive. Let me take care of her.”

Tears stung Jessie’s eyes. Leigh offered something that made sense. How could they make a seven-year-old walk a hundred miles? What would they do with her if they both had jobs? Emily loved being out here, in the country. Would it be kinder to leave her where she would be safe, even if it meant separating them?

“I need to talk it over with Hattie,” Jessie said. “If we decide to, we’ll bring her on our way to the city.”

Jessie returned inside and did little the rest of the day. When she spoke to Hattie about leaving Emily with Leigh, Hattie broke down in tears. The girls ended up curling up in the bed with Emily, despite the heat, clinging to their cousin and each other, afraid for what would come, what they must do.

Two days later, Jessie and Hattie each took Emily by the hand and set off down the dusty road towards Leigh’s farm. Jessie tried not to cry as she looked back on the farmhouse they had made their own. She promised the house she would return. She squeezed Emily’s hand too, a silent promise one day the three girls would be reunited. Someday.