What Comes After

August 21

Moving day (partially).

Dad spent all morning removing the TV while the rest of us pushed the couches out of the way to make space for the beds when the time came. Mira and May took measurements of the beds to see if we had made enough space for everything while Mom and I moved out all the bookshelves and random plastic bins of books and electronics that we stored in the living room to the garage. Moving out into the living room would make it much harder for me to sneak food out to Charles, but I didn't resist because Mom and Dad could get suspicious, and for now, my secret is safe.

After a quick and uneventful lunch break, Mom and Dad began moving up their greenhouse set-up from the garage and designated areas to put the solar panels in to charge the heaters. They had built a frame from some old plastic pipe shelving in our garage and draped it with a clear sheet of plastic to keep the heat in. Small lights were attached to the frame, providing ample light to the plants that will be growing inside.

Even though everything was still awkward from yesterday, I went up to Mira and said, "Now's your chance to show Mom and Dad your idea."

"You sure?"

"They'll love it," I said.

She took a deep breath and walked over to Mom and Dad. "Hey Mom, Dad. I think I have a way to fix your power issue."

"Well, unless you have a way to get more solar panels—" Dad said before being cut off by Mom.

"What is it?"

"I was thinking we could use mirrors," Mira said. "So we can reflect back light to the plants and make sure none of it is wasted."

"That's... actually a good idea for once," Dad said.

"It's a good idea, period," Mom said to Dad before turning back to Mira. "How are we going to get enough mirrors though? Our room has one wall mirror, and we have a couple hand mirrors around our house, but that's it."

"Do we have other reflective things?" Mira asked. "Sheets of metal or glass, maybe."

"We do have aluminum foil," Dad said and you could literally see the gears turning in his head. "We can wrap the foil around the sides of the planter box to keep the light in. Do you think other things, like white paint, will reflect light?"

"I'm not sure, but maybe," Mira said. "I also had a second idea."

"What?" Mom and Dad both asked, and it was great to see that they were all on the same page, building each other up instead of tearing each other down. I know it's weird, but just watching them is making me feel weirdly joyful.

"Mom, you remember all those solar panel phone chargers that we bought from the camping store."

"Yes, but what does this have to do with—" Mom said and paused. "I'm so stupid. How could I not have thought about this before?"

"To be fair," Mira replied. "I literally did not think of this until this week."

"What?" Dad asked, genuinely confused. "Is this some woman thing?"

"Flashlights," Mom said. "All of our phones have it, and we can use the— how many did we buy again?"

"Around eight or so," Mira responded.

"Eight solar panel phone chargers to charge up our phones and give ourselves some extra light."

"Oh..." Dad said, his words trailing off. "I'll go get the aluminum foil to start the wrapping."

"I'm finding the solar panel chargers," Mom said and looked at Mira. "Can you check to see if we have some white paint or maybe watercolors from some old kit? I think I have an idea."

As Mom and Dad basically ran into different rooms, Mira looked at me and beamed. "It worked."

"Yes, it did," I said. "See, it went great!"

"What do you think we should grow here?" May asked.

"Maybe something hardy," I said. "Cabbages or onions or potatoes probably. Maybe something fast-growing like peas or mustard. We can save the tomatoes for a sunnier day."

"Yeah," she said. "I'm tempted to grow a pumpkin, though, for the upcoming Halloween."

"I completely forgot about that," I replied. "It's in, like, two months or so."

"Yeah," she said and there was a bit of an awkward silence. "Thanks for helping me out."

"No problem," I said and looked at the greenhouse before turning my eyes away from it.

Looking at Mira, she seemed so happy. Maybe this peace with Mom and Dad will only last a couple of days or maybe it'll last for the rest of our lives, however long they may be. I think she's figured out her identity, or at least a part of it, because she talked. Maybe I should too, at least a little bit.

"I lied yesterday," I said. "About the whole school stuff."

"I know," she said. "It was pretty obvious."

"I lied also about it not being important," I replied. "It is important."

"Do— do you want to talk about it?"

"It's an identity thing," I replied before adding. "Like values and a sense of self stuff."

"That's very vague," she replied and brushed her hair to the side.

"It's the most I'm comfortable with," I said. "It's just too personal."

"Well it's a start," Mira said. "And you know that I'm always open to talking, and look, if you don't feel comfortable talking about it, you don't need to lie. You can just tell me that."

She continued. "And just know that you don't have to figure everything out in a few days. I mean I didn't even figure out what my own values are until college, and even then, sometimes I don't know exactly what I want with life, so just know that there isn't any pressure to understand everything."

"Yeah," I said. "Thank you."

I stood up. "I guess I'm going to go shower since I didn't get a chance yesterday."

When I got into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, I pulled out the magazine and flipped to that page with that guy's pictures. With steam curling around me and the air warm, I could feel that this magnetism I felt was just more than jealousy or forbiddenness. It felt right. It was right, at least at that moment.

I know I should be panicking about survival and losing water and natural gas (since after all, this is the apocalypse), but it's weird that the thing that is bothering me the most is this.

I guess I just need more time to figure out myself.