Chapter 16: Changes

The first week of November, Charli came home all happy and cheerful, waving her pay stub around and chanting, "I got a raise, I got a raise!" It seems her hard work had paid off, and along with the raise she'd gotten a better job classification; she didn't have to deal with all the smelly stuff anymore.

On the other hand, I was told that my services were no longer required. It wasn't done kindly, with a severance package and a face-to-face meeting; I just found the usual pink slip inside my pay envelope. I wasn't the only one, either. Roberta, my boss, and about eight or nine others from various departments were let go. The senior partner, David Paverud, had decided to retire, and the other two partners — his oldest son, David Jr., and Mark Mortenson — wanted to downsize the company to concentrate on auditing.

Roberta took my phone number over lunch that day, promising to keep in touch. I felt depressed and let down, and a little angry too. I'd given a hundred percent every day, and to be treated like a number instead of a person pissed me off.

Not working allowed me to sleep in for a couple days, and then I went in search of a new job. I registered with the Unemployment Office (if they find people jobs, why do they call it the unemployment office?) and dropped my updated résumé at several firms I found in the phone book. I was worried about my future, and Dad and Mom were coming home from someplace pretty soon. It wouldn't look good if I didn't have something that paid good money by then. Not to mention I might lose my house and my car and Charli!

We took Andy out for drinks and dancing on the 15th of November — a cold, wet Friday — and then back to the house for some loving afterward. We tried to kill her again, but it didn't work; she loved it. The following morning, I was watching Charli kiss the inside of Andy's thighs when the phone rang. I answered it in the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hannah, it's Bobbi."

"Hi, Bobbi. What's up?"

"Just thought I'd let you know where to find a job. If you're available this coming Monday, be at Graver Implement at 8 am; they have need of your skills."

"Where is Graver Implement?" I asked.

"Go down Airport Road to the end and turn left onto University Drive; you'll see the sign."

"Okay, I will. Oh, and Bobbi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks! I mean it. Thanks a lot!"

"You're welcome, Sweetie. See you then."

I heard the click of being disconnected and stood there staring at the phone. What did she mean, 'see you then'? What did Graver make? Was the pay equal to what I'd been making? And why had she called me 'Sweetie'? Was there some interest there that I had missed? I realized I'd find out all the answers soon enough and hung up the phone.

When I returned to the bedroom, Charli asked, "Who was it?"

"Roberta, my old boss. I think she lined me up with a new job."

Charli shouted, "Yay, Hani! You go, girl!"

"I've got to make sure I have clean clothes for Monday," I said. "I can't show up at a new job looking like a refugee."

"Time enough for that," Andy said. "C'mere and gimme a kiss."

I didn't get to wardrobe preparation until late Sunday evening.

Monday the 18^th I was in the Graver parking lot at quarter till eight. I had my updated résumé in hand and a sack lunch in my purse. Bobbi met me just inside the door and guided me through the process of being hired. She was the new Payroll Supervisor and needed some more warm bodies.

Graver Implement manufactured farm equipment and light industrial machines like backhoes and excavators, and they were putting on another shift of 300 to 350 workers. Growth in one area demands support personnel in others (or so I was told) and I had a job!

Graver was much different from Paverud; the pay was better, working conditions were much nicer — bigger offices, warm heat, computers instead of paper, and good lighting — and my co-workers were great. I'd be on probation for the first sixty days, but Bobbi said it was just a formality. My attitude improved by leaps and bounds!

Later on that month, Mom and Dad pulled in from the road and announced their intention to stay for a couple weeks. We helped them move their things back into the house and did their laundry.

On their third day back, after a leisurely breakfast, my dad walked into the kitchen fully dressed for the cold.

"Hani, you want to go for coffee with me?" he asked.

It was about four below zero outside, and I was sitting at the table barefoot and in my nightie. True, the nightie was covered by my robe, but I was essentially unprepared. I looked at my mom for guidance — I had no clue what was going on — and saw her nod slightly.

"Sure, Dad. Let me get dressed and I'll be right with you."

He went outside to warm up the car and I went into our bedroom to get dressed.

Charli came up beside me and asked, "What's going on?"

"Damned if I know," I said. "Dad and I are going for coffee, I guess."

I finished getting dressed and shrugged into my parka, then walked out to the car.

As we turned the corner a block away from the house I asked, "Dad, what is it? Is anything wrong with you or Mom?"

He smiled. "No, Sugar, I just wanted to talk to you alone. You'll find out all about it in a few minutes."

He drove to the mall and parked fairly close to the east door; just inside was a coffee shop he and Mom frequented when they were home. We got our coffees and he led me to a table in the corner. After a sip and a soft sigh, he spoke.

"Do you really love the lady you're with?"

"Her name is Charli, Dad, and yes, I do. Very much."

"Your mom and I have been reading about lesbian relationships, and we think you need to know what we learned."

"Okay," I said. "Let's hear it."

Quietly he said, "The average relationship only lasts seven years; some far longer of course, but they are the exception. We worry about you."

"You said you accepted my choice!" I said too loudly, then softer, "Did you change your mind?"

Too many possibilities were running through my brain and I could feel my heart racing.

"We do, Honey, we do, but we're parents; it's our job to worry about our kids."

"I'm working again, Charli and I get along real well — we haven't had any major fights — and we manage to save something out of every paycheck. We're fine, Dad, I promise!"

"The only reason I brought it up is your mom and I have decided to retire. I've been paid some nice bonuses for the work I've done, and we can afford a house in a warmer climate. We were thinking Arizona, maybe the Phoenix area."

"That's too far away!" I pouted.

"It's no farther than we have been for the last year or so," he said. "We'll keep the motor home, and travel up here in the summers for a visit."

"It's too far away," I repeated.

"We can call once a month or so and talk for an hour if you want; your mom thinks you cut the apron strings long ago, and you're ready."

"Ready for what?" I asked.

"To be a home owner," he smiled.

We talked for another hour and he laid out his thoughts. I wasn't old enough to assume the mortgage, but I could accept the house as a gift. There would be some tax implications he wasn't sure of, but with certain stipulations it would be mine. His concern was simple: did I also want Charli's name on the deed? If we broke up, she could lay claim to half the house or tie it up in court with a lawsuit. North Dakota doesn't have marriage or civil unions between same-sex couples, but if I got killed in a car wreck, did I want Charli to have the house? When we finished, I told him I'd think it over and give him an answer in a few days.

My mother had been talking to Charli while my dad and I were out drinking coffee, describing the same scenario to her. Later that night, cuddled together, we talked.

Charli asked, "What do you think of your dad's proposal?"

"I don't know," I said. "He's going to pay it off, but then I, or we, have to pay him back. $76,000.00 is a lot of money."

"Your mom said our payment would be a lot less with them; all we'd have to do is pay the taxes separately."

"I know, but with my folks as the owners I didn't feel so ... so exposed. What if we can't make a payment or two? What if one of us gets sick and can't work for a while?"

Charli propped herself up on one elbow and said, "Baby, I love you, and I'm sharing the house with you; the least I can do is pay my share. And I don't care about my name being on the papers, either. If something happened to you, I wouldn't want to live here anymore; the memories would suffocate me."

I snuggled closer to her body and said, "Maybe not, but you'd need something to help you get a new start, wouldn't you? I'll ask my dad about right-of-survivors options and stuff; he'll help us out."

My folks stayed until the day after Thanksgiving; they intended to house-hunt in the Phoenix area and be back in time for Christmas. The motor home was stored at a friend's place.

Andy came over for the weekend, but left early when she got a call on her cell phone. She wouldn't say much about who called or why, so we had a shortened session. It was pretty lively, but I don't think Andy had her heart in it.