I've been here for a week. I can't believe it, but at the same time... I'm not hating it. Things with Isamu have improved. There's no reason for us to be enemies, especially since I'm stuck here for who knows how long. He still won't take me into town, but at least now he gives a legit reason: going into town gives him bad vibes. He lives far away to avoid it. I didn't ask for details, but something really bad must have happened for him to abandon all the convenience of modern life.
"Isamu, come on! We're picking potatoes today!" I called out.
He stays just a few houses down from where I'm staying. I waited a few minutes for him to come out, but he didn't. Being impatient as always, I went inside—and there he was, still asleep.
"Isamu," I whispered.
Thinking back, whispering probably won't wake someone from a deep slumber.
"I-SA-MU-UUUU~!"
"WHAT?!" he shouted, shooting up in bed, clearly annoyed.
"We have to pick potatoes today."
"I heard you the first time. I just wanted to sleep a little more," he grumbled.
"Oh..." I trailed off, sitting silently so as not to anger him further.
"You don't have to wait up for me. I'll be out soon," he said.
"Oh, right. See you later."
With my farmer outfit on, I grabbed a bucket and mini shovel and headed out to the fields. Potato picking is back-breaking work, but at least it was overcast today. I dug up about half a bucket and felt pretty proud of myself for a first attempt.
"That's all you got?"
"Excuse you, Sleeping Beauty. I did this all by myself. If I had help, there'd be more potatoes," I shot back.
"I could fill two buckets by now if I were doing this alone," he teased.
"Congrats. Want a cookie?"
We rolled our eyes at each other. Silence wouldn't last long, so I started the small talk.
"Do you like potatoes?"
"Yeah?"
"What's your favorite dish?"
"Japanese or American?"
"Japanese."
"Potato salad."
"You guys eat potato salad?"
"Yeah. Everyone has their version."
"True. Have you had southern potato salad?"
"Nope."
"Oh my gosh! I have to make it for you sometime."
"You won't give me food poisoning?"
"No! I can cook."
"You do?"
"Yeah. I can fry chicken, make the best mac and cheese—the real kind—and whip up amazing greens and cornbread."
"Greens?"
"You poor thing. Don't worry. I'll make some for you."
"Sure."
We worked, talking intermittently, until I felt brave enough to ask more personal questions.
"Do you have siblings?"
"Yeah. An older brother."
"Does he look like you?"
"I guess so."
YOU ARE READING
Lost
RomanceJacquelyn works hard at a job she hates but finally saves up enough money to take a trip to Japan for a month. She is supported by her friend Stacy along the way but things take a turn when she is too exhausted to stay awake during her bus ride to h...
