Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode Six: Africa #1

Jake rolled over in the too-small bunk bed, put his feet over the edge and sat up. He simultaneously stepped on a toy car and banged his head on the top bunk. Not the best way to start the day, he groused as he rubbed his forehead. He stared at the toys strewn across the floor angrily. How many nineteen-year-olds share a room with their ten-year-old brother? He couldn't think of any.

The trailer was cold and goosebumps erupted on Jake's back as he stood in his boxers and headed to the bathroom. Down the hall, he could hear his seventeen-year-old sister, Cynthia, arguing with his brother, Mike, and other sister, Jamie.

"Hurry up," his mom called as she banged on the door. "I've got to get ready for work."

"Work?"

"Yes, work. Some of us do that, you know. And it's one thirty in the afternoon. You slept half the day away."

So? It wasn't like Jake had anything to get up for. And the barb about work was entirely unnecessary. He finished his business and open the door for his mom. "Just didn't know you worked today."

"Someone called in. And we can use the money."

Jake dressed and then shuffled into the kitchen to look for something to eat. It didn't take his mom long in the shower and then she was out, dressed in scrubs. No one in the household took long in the shower this time of year; there was never enough hot water and it was freezing in the house. "Cold in here," Jake mumbled. "Is there any cereal left?"

"Don't you dare touch the thermostat," his mom warned. "Even with budget billing, the heating bill is gonna kill us this winter."

"Mike ate the last of the cereal," Cynthia said. "Told him not to. But he don't listen."

"Is there anything to eat?" Jake demanded.

"I think there's some leftover turkey roll," his mom said. To Mike, she added, "Listen to your sister. I'm heading to work. She's in charge. There's a box of mac 'n' cheese for supper. And I'll get more cereal on Friday after I get paid."

Jake groaned but bit his tongue. Friday was three days away. But he knew how tight money was. Mike was another story. "Mac 'n' cheese?" he complained. "Can't we order pizza or something?"

"No," Mom snapped. "We can't afford delivery. You know that."

"Secondhand toys for Christmas," Mike groused. "Turkey roll for Christmas dinner. Being poor sucks."

"It's not Mom's fault that Dad ran off," Cynthia said. "She's at least working. Unlike some people I could mention."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Fuck you. I've tried."

"Have you?" Mom's voice was soft, resigned. But it bit worse than Cynthia's sarcasm.

"Yes, I have," he yelled. "I looked and looked."

"After you graduated, yes," Mom replied, still gentle. "But that was months ago."

"Yeah, has some big new industry suddenly appeared in Casper that I'm not aware of? Did the ranches suddenly start hiring hands all of a sudden? Did the oil boom return? It's the same shit as always. The only places even taking applications are bullshit fast-food jobs, and there are thirty kids my age ahead of me who worked at those places in high school or some shit. What am I supposed to do?" It was the same argument he had with his mom at least twice a week for the last six months. Couldn't she just let him be?

"I could talk to my boss, if you want."

"No, I don't want to be a nurse's aide. Sorry, mom."

"I know you don't want to. But it is a job. I know how hard the market is right now."

"I'll get online and look again," he said. "Okay? I'll look, I promise." He stormed back to his room, still hungry but wanting to end the argument.

His mother, however, followed him and stood in his doorway. "It's been almost nine months, Jake. I'm sorry. I know the market is tight. I know it's hard to find a job you really want. But I don't know how much longer I can go on being the sole breadwinner for five people. I'm on my third overtime shift this pay period, and I still don't know how I'm going to cover rent, the heating bill, and groceries. Something's gotta give."

"I know! I know!" he roared. "We all know." He grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his pocket. He swiped the keys off his dresser. Pushing past his mom, he headed down the hall.

She watched him as he shoved his feet angrily into his big winter boots. As he shrugged into his faded winter jacket, she asked, "Where are you going, Jake?"

"I don't know. Away. I just gotta get outta here."

"Jake."

"No. You're right. You can't do it all. Besides, one box of mac 'n' cheese won't feed all of us." He started toward the door.

"Jake." She followed him to the door, angry now. "You can't just run off. And I can't give you any more cash, so don't even bother asking."

He didn't respond. If anything that was the worst part of it, not having a job, not having his independence. He had less than ten bucks to his name, and she knew it. If he went somewhere to get lunch for himself, that would be it for his money until she was generous enough to give him more.

He climbed into the battered pickup and started it up. He sat behind the wheel staring straight ahead and trying to get his eyes uncrossed. He watched as his mom came out in her winter coat, but she didn't come over to him. She got into her own car and headed off to work. His stomach still growling, Jake pulled out and drove, not even aware that he had a destination.