A Town Called Prairie: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: The Attic and the Dumbwaiter Discovery

I got home before my parents and went straight up to the attic to do my homework.
My parents didn’t know that I spent so much time in the upper recesses of our ancient house, they knew I went up there sometimes, but didn’t know that, late at night, if I couldn’t sleep, I would go up there to watch the sky and draw the sketched that now dominate the walls amongst the boxes of antiques.
The attic was also the perfect place to study, with a window to sit by for light, a old wooden chair to sit on and, if you knew what to do, a box that could be propped up on a few other boxes to use as a desk.
I climbed through the ladder in the hallway that comes down from the ceiling. No one was home so there was no point to use the secret dumbwaiter shaft in my room, why go through the difficulties of the small shaft?
I tossed my backpack up and followed it, pulling the ladder up behind me and making my way over the walk able planks to my usual chair and ‘desk’ of boxes. Popping my headphones into my ears, I took out my homework and began working.

Around the time my parents were supposed to get home, I went back into the house and closed up the attic, tossing my backpack into my room, and walking to the downstairs closet to find a jacket. Scrawling a quick not saying I’m going to the bookstore, I head out the front door and down the block to explore the tiny town I have already dissected block by block.

The cool autumn breeze blew around me, messing around with my hair and flinging it into my face. I pulled it back with a hair tie and stuffed my hands back into my pockets. I walked past the bookstore, Florentine’s pharmacy, the sheriff department and the bakery shop immediately next door. A police officer walked out of the bakery with a box presumably full of pastries and walked into the sheriff department, with the cheers of his coworkers reaching my ears. The general store was next, conjoined with the fresh produce store that was miniscule because of the usual farmers market they have during the harvest season in the middle of summer for wheat where people from out of town come with fruits and veggies to trade. If our town is known for anything, it is for the quality of the wheat we farm.
There’s a small coffee shop with a few of the kids from my class walking in, bundled up in jackets and chatting to each other, getting inside and shedding their jackets, buying hot chocolate and coffee with little bistro sandwiches and snacks…
My stomach begins to grumble, so I turn back. I was on the edge of town anyway, and the weather was worsening. I made my way back and walked in just before my parents.
“I went to the bookstore.” I bluntly told them.
“Find anything good?” Mom asked, hanging up her jacket in the closet.
“Not really,” I shrugged. “How was work?”
“Eh, the usual.” She sighed. “They had to fire a bunch of people because of budget cuts.”
“bummer.” I replied, sifting through the mail my dad had placed on the counter before running out to the garage.
“Yeah, it’s terrible they have to lay off so many people.”
I nodded in response as my dad ran back in from the garage, with a briefcase on one hand and a closed umbrella in the other.
“I really hate this monkey suit they make me wear.” My dad untied his tie and untucked his shirt after dropping his suitcase on the floor. “It’s a farmers meeting for Jesus’ sake,”
“It's only once a year dear.” My mom walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “How was the meeting?”
“Pete said he didn’t make enough this year to keep the farm, so they might have to move.”
“Pete Schaquarsky?” my mom asked.
My dad nodded, “he’s getting old anyway, and he’s wanted to retire lately.”
“Will they have enough money to retire?”
“I’m not sure, but they’ll make it, Margie knows what she’s doing with the stock market and all, Logan is showing some strength in betting on the stocks on Wall Street.”

Our whole town knows the economy has been rough, but now more than ever. People can’t make enough money to keep the houses their families have lived in for generations.
    My family is lucky though. My parents have good enough jobs to keep our ancient house and to let us stay in our tiny town that is shrinking by the day.
    But what I overheard through the dumbwaiter shaft changed all that.

My parents don’t know about the dumbwaiter shaft that connects to my room (which used to be an office) to the kitchen and the attic. I discovered it when I was younger, accidentally prying off a lose board in the kitchen and discovering the shaft. It went out of my mind for some time until I discovered the attic and the rest of the shaft behind an old painting that had been in my room since we moved in. since then, I used it mostly to go to the kitchen for a midnight snack, get to the attic or eavesdrop on the happenings in the kitchen.
When I’m in my room, I take the painting off the wall so I can hear what’s going on in the kitchen or when someone comes upstairs to get me for dinner. The downside is, I’ve heard a few things through the shaft that I never wanted to hear, and that day, I overheard a disturbing conversation.

"David, the company is shutting down." she sniffled.

My mom had been working for what she called 'the company' since it opened when she was 16. She was next in line to run it when the current CEO announced the company was bankrupt and that it was going to close. Everyone was given one last paycheck and told to go home and look for a job. I put the painting back over the shaft when my mom began to cry.
Her paycheck was the main income we had, my dad and the small farm was just an extra thing that my dad liked to do and gave us some money, but not enough to be sustainable. It usually paid for the food, and my mom's job paid for the house.

I ended up falling asleep as my mom came up the steps to call me down for dinner. I could see her open the door and come in, covering me up with a blanket and heading back downstairs.
What she didn't see was around midnight; I took the shaft to the kitchen for a snack and back up to the attic for a peaceful dinner date with the stars.

It seemed I was only asleep for five minutes when my alarm abruptly beeped at 6:30. I groggily got up and got ready for school, going downstairs for breakfast.
For once my dad was cooking, and my mom wasn't in sight. I sat down at the counter and dug into a plate of waffles.
"Where’s mom?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
He replied quietly, "she lost her job yesterday Florentine." for one of the first times, he called me by my first name, which meant what he was saying was serious.
"What happened?" I asked, shocked.
"The company went bankrupt, they told her to go look for a job."
He knows of my knowledge of our family's finances so he could understand the antagonized look on my face. "What are we going to do?" I asked.
"Guess I’m going to have to get a real job. In Georges Creek." he mumbled, sipping his coffee.
He shared my grandfather’s dislike of George’s Creek because of their methods of biologically enhancing their crops for greater output behind the government (and consumers) backs. My dad called it unfair and illegal, so besides meeting my mom, he didn’t want anything to do with Georges Creek and their "cheating farms".
"Mom will find a job dad, she's well qualified."
"For all we know, she could be over qualified."
"Don’t be pessimistic dad,"
"It's the truth." he replied, finishing his coffee and putting the mug in the dishwasher.
And oh, did I know it.