“Me, too,” Athena agreed. “The brats were addicting.”
While Bishop cleaned up dinner, I explained to her where the brats came from and how we have a meat market and smokehouse right here in Lake Pendle. With the moon out, Bishop started a fire, and we got comfy around the new pit.
“It’s so unbelievably beautiful and silent here,” she said, staring up at the sky streaked with clouds. “I miss the silence of the Midwest.”
“It does have a certain essence the big cities don’t have,” Bishop agreed.
“Big cities aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” she said, nodding as she stared into the fire. “I moved to San Diego because of the huge LGBTQ community there, but I may have let that be the driving power instead of everything else.”
“What is everything else?” Bishop asked, leaning forward to see her better.
“Common sense,” she finally answered with a shrug.
“Are you trying to say you miss home?” I asked, hoping she’d finally come clean about why she was here.
Her head nodded while her chin trembled for a moment. “Desperately. It’s not like homesickness, either. I know the difference. It’s just that everything feels wrong when I’m out there. I don’t belong, even in this gigantic community of likeminded people. They’ve welcomed me into their fold, and they don’t treat me like an outsider, but yet, I’m not them. If that makes sense.”
I eyed Bishop for a moment who sat stunned in his chair. Finally, he reached out to grasp her hand. “Have you talked to your mom about it yet?” he asked, squeezing her hand.
“No,” Athena said, shaking her head. “She’ll give me the standard social worker answer. Have you ever noticed she always tries to play both sides of the fence with me? It’s never helpful. That’s why I came to you, Daddy. I need help figuring out what to do.”
“I’m always here for you, baby. Amber, too. We’ll help you work through this. I don’t want you to be unhappy, and we can see that you are. If you take the physical place out of the equation, do you enjoy what you’re learning in school?”
“Love it!” she said, laughter on her lips again. “I love culinary school and the challenges it offers me. I’m not unhappy doing what I’m doing.”
“You’re unhappy where you’re doing it,” I finished.
She nodded, pointing at me. “Does that make me...” She paused and motioned her hand around in the dark. “A child? Does it make me a quitter?”
“Absolutely not!” Bishop exclaimed, pulling her into his arms and rocking her. “You are not the first, nor will you be the last, eighteen-year-old, who discovers who they are by learning who they aren’t.”
She leaned back on the chair and wiped a tear from her face discreetly. “You mean it’s not a bad thing to feel this way?”
Bishop smiled and gripped her cheeks in his hands. “A bad thing? No, I think it’s a good thing. You spent a year away from home and learned that big cities aren’t for you. That’s growth, and growth is never a bad thing.”
I stayed quiet during the exchange between them because I knew he was right. Sometimes we have to do new things to grow, even if we learn they aren’t for us. Look at me. I had to move out of my parents’ house to figure out that I didn’t have to live under their thumb any more. It sounds stupid, but sometimes we can’t see the forest when we’re among all the trees.
“Did you just take a break from Disney, or did you quit?” Bishop asked in the most non-confrontational way possible.
“I didn’t quit, but I told them I might be gone for two weeks. They’re okay with it. I’m not a flaky teenager, but I also couldn’t wait until August to talk to someone about this.”
“You have decisions to make about school,” Bishop said, and she nodded.
“I’ve been here for forty-eight hours, and I already don’t want to go back to the smog, heat, crowds, and noise. It’s just not for me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a small-town girl, Athena,” I said firmly. “I’ve lived here my entire life, and this town has taken care of me. Never underestimate the power of a small town.”
She nodded and bit her lip. “I know, but the problem is, there aren’t any culinary schools in small towns. They’re all in big cities.”
“Okay, so you find the smallest big city you can,” Bishop said to drag a laugh from Athena.
“You do know that St. Paul College has a culinary school, right?” I asked, leaning forward. “I mean, it’s not San Diego, but they’ve turned out some very successful chefs, including the incredibly talented Haylee Pearson.”
“They do?” Athena asked, and I nodded. “I didn’t know that, but it’s still a big city.”
“It’s a big city that’s a twenty-minute drive from here,” Bishop added. “You wouldn’t have to live there. You could live here and drive there.”
“If you want, I’d be happy to take you to the bakery tomorrow to talk to Haylee about it. She’d love to tell you stories about her days at the school. The good news is, she’s not too old to remember them or for them to still be relevant.”
Athena laughed then, resting her head back on the chair with a smile. “I’d like that. I need to figure something out before I talk to Mom. She doesn’t do well without a plan.”
“Which is my fault,” Bishop said softly. “When you came along, her plan suddenly changed, and she was without one. She didn’t pivot well, and it twisted her into this regimented person who doesn’t roll well with the punches. It’s not her fault, sweetheart. It’s mine.”
Athena blinked twice and shook her head. “I know you’ve always felt that way, Daddy, and I might only be an eighteen-year-old kid, but I did have sex education. I’m worldly enough
