Anthony nodded. Then, looking down at the composition book he was writing in, he jotted down the title of a potential article:
A Convenient Excuse to Hate
— — —
Silvia was sitting on an old hay bale while surveying a wide horizon. A field stretched out before her, verdant shoots of fledgling crops decorating the rich brown soil, the pungent scent of fertilizer reaching her nose. She breathed this in rather than shying away from it, welcoming the associations of earthy vitality. Which was a testament to how much she was enjoying her day, or she wouldn’t be sniffing manure like it was going out of style. She simply loved it here! On the far side of the field, diminutive with distance, was Keisha’s house and all the other buildings of Hartland Farms.
“Your family has to be rich,” Silvia said, rolling her head toward Keisha, who was using the hay bale next to hers like a primitive couch. “In addition to all of that—” She waved an arm at the far-away buildings before patting the exterior barn wall they were using as a backrest. “—you also have an entire farm you don’t actually need.”
“That’s not quite what I said,” Keisha replied. “My parents bought a neighboring farm when the owners retired—”
“Like rich people do,” Silvia interjected.
“—but only because they wanted to take over those fields. They sold the neighbor’s house, including the property it was on. The rest they are leaving to nature. Or future expansion.”
“So what’s in this barn?” Silvia asked.
“Old equipment.”
“I’m moving in,” Silvia said, returning her attention to the view. “My parents made us have a yard sale last year just to clear out a single closet. I can’t imagine having this much space.”
“Obviously you can or you wouldn’t have designs on my favorite abandoned barn.”
“You mean there’s more than one?”
“If there is,” Keisha said with a smirk, “I’m not about to throw fuel on the fire by telling you!”
Silvia laughed. The day had been amazing so far. She had eaten lunch with the Hart family, meeting many of them for the first time, before going horseback riding with Keisha. That’s how they had ended up here, Chestnut and another mare grazing not far away.
“You might have a farmer girl in you, just waiting to get out,” Keisha said, those mischievous brown eyes trained on the smile Silvia still wore. “Your dad sure has taken to the work.”
“He’s really doing well?”
Keisha nodded emphatically. “I’m not trying to make you feel better, hon. The man is a work-horse. Not literally. We didn’t strap him to a plow and make him till the soil or anything crazy. But I can see where you get your work ethic from. Your dad sure does pull his weight.”
“Good,” Silvia said with relief. She hadn’t dared to ask her parents to reconsider their plans, because it was uncertain how full-time this position would be. Keisha’s family hadn’t made any promises they weren’t willing to keep, which she appreciated. But she had noticed how much happier Miguel seemed in the evenings, despite dozing off earlier than usual.
“What do you think?” Keisha said, nudging her. “Should we fix up this barn so your family can take over this old farm? I’ll grab a hammer and nails.”
Silvia tittered while shaking her head. “My parents can do whatever they want. As much as I like being out here, I can’t imagine it being my job day in and day out.”
“Me neither,” Keisha admitted. “Which is ironic, because I want a career that’ll keep me away from a desk, and this would do it. I just don’t love farming like my parents seem to.”
“What would you prefer?”
Keisha shrugged. “I thought about joining the Marines.”
Silvia made a face. “Really?”
“Yeah, why not? I’ve already got the haircut. Of course, I’d have to stay in the closet longer than I was planning. That’s why I’m leaning toward the police force.”
Silvia hesitated. “What did you think of the LA Riots?”
Keisha saw right through this question. “That’s exactly why I would join. Ask any child to draw a police officer and it’ll likely be a white man. What happened to Rodney King might have played out differently if a black officer had been there. I don’t know for sure, but the problem isn’t going to get better until those in charge look more like the people they are supposed to serve. I thought about a career in politics for the same reason, until I remembered my aversion to desks.”
“School must be torture for you,” Silvia teased.
“It’s the worst.” Keisha smiled broadly. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Not this again!” Silvia groaned.
“Hey, you started it. And I went first.”
“Okay.” She exhaled. “Umm…”
Keisha leaned closer. “Don’t forget, this is the new us. Confiding friends, remember?”
“I’m not holding back!”
“You’ve just never thought about it before?”
“I have,” Silvia assured her. “In my own way.” She licked her lips, still not used to discussing such topics openly. “I want to save as much money as possible until I turn twenty-one, when I’ll be able to petition on my parents’ behalf so they can get legal status. But it won’t be easy, or cheap, since they entered the country illegally. We’ll need a good attorney.”
Keisha’s expression was solemn, her tone respectful, when she said, “That’s what you want for them. And yourself, of course. But just as a thought experiment, let’s pretend your parents already got their citizenship through other means. If you didn’t have to worry about any of that anymore, what would you want to do?”
Silvia watched rows of shadows move across the fields as the sun disappeared briefly behind the clouds. She searched her soul and thought about how much she loved Omar and her friends—Keisha included—but that wasn’t a career. She felt foolish for not having an answer, her face beginning to burn the more time that went by.
Keisha pulled her legs up, angling herself toward Silvia before sitting cross-legged. “I guess you’ve had other things to worry about, huh?”
Silvia swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”
“So let’s figure it out together. What makes you happiest? I know you love riding horses. And you like animals. How about becoming a veterinarian?”
Silvia shook her head. “I can’t afford that much school.”
“Pretend you can. This is about what you want, not what’s possible. It’s just you and me out here. Let’s dream big! So where are you going to open your practice, Dr. Diaz?”
Silvia smiled. “It’s a nice idea, but I couldn’t handle seeing animals suffer, even if I could help. They’re my escape from the harsh realities of the world. If that makes sense.”
“It does. Animals don’t practice politics, and that makes them so much more loveable. Could you imagine if they held a tedious election every four years? Literal donkeys versus elephants trying to out-slander each other?”