CHAPTER 7

Without her really realizing it a month had passed since she stared doing the show. By this point 200,000 people had subscribed to the show on podcasting networks, and early ratings show her being one of the most popular shows in her time slot, right behind overnight news correspondence from Europe. She had put in to quit her job at the factory as soon as she signed with Foxx, they fired her on the spot instead. Adjusting to a full night schedule was hard, but worth it. She still managed to go to the shop before it closed and talk with her friends online when she woke up. One lazy morning she was woken up not by her 3pm alarm clock, but by her father.

"Paula, open up, we need to talk."

"Let me sleep a little more, ok? I'm drained."

He comes in anyway and Poppy is very glad she wore pajamas. It's just getting cool enough outside so that her upstairs room isn't boiling hot at night.

"You've stayed out late every night for the last 3 days, you never talk to us and you don't get up in time for work. What happened to the factory, huh? What happened to you trying to climb the corporate ladder?"

Up to this point, she had neglected to tell her family anything going on in her life. It wasn't worth it to start an argument about going against what they want for her. She's too tired to consider the ramifications of that right now. "I quit the factory job weeks ago. I'm doing a radio show at midnight and it's making me 3500 dollars a month plus a portion of ad revenue. I'm making serious bank and still managing to live a life. I'm sorry that I don't see y'all much, but I'm too busy with work."

He doesn't look like he knows how to respond. She thought he would be happy, she's making more doing something she likes, something closer to what she went to college for. Of course, he isn't.

"You said the factory paid you well enough, was that a lie? Is that why you've been bumming around this house for the last year without a real job, because you weren't willing to put in the effort for a promotion?"

"Machine workers don't get promoted to managerial positions, they work the same shitty job until they age out or get so mangled they can't work anymore." Her mind starts thinking about the stories she could tell from the factory on her show, the horror stories she heard. She doesn't like that this opportunistic part of her mind is becoming more prevalent. "If you honestly think that I'm gonna get anywhere at that dead end company than you need to get real with yourself."

"It worked for your grandfather."

"Yea, in the 1950s. I'm finally doing something that I want and you hate me for it?"

"I don't hate you, I just.. I wish you talked to me about this before you did it, this is a big step-"

She gets up now, blanket wrapped around her lower half. In the mirror on the vanity she sees how long she's let her antlers grow, how unkempt her fur. "What, like I'm a child? I'm 23, I can make my own life choices and I am! If you don't want me to have autonomy than get out of my damn life!"

Silence fills the room. Her father does what he's always done, since she was a child. He makes angry noises. She does this because he knows that swearing out a child or your wife isn't the best for optics, though he has pantomimed hitting them before. The angry noises say everything that words aren't allowed to.

"I've done so much for you, you know that? I put you through college, we tried to get you and your brother a car, I accepted you being trans. Now you just wanna piss on me like I'm the worst dad in the world?"

"Yea, I do! Congratulations, you did the bare minimum associated with having a child, and you remind me of how grateful I should be every day. Do you want a trophy for this, for passing the bar? You could at the very least have put in an effort to love me a little instead of making me feel selfish for requiring the things every young adult does!!!"

"Jesus Paula, be smarter about this, all we've done is love you this whole time and this is how you're reacting?"

"If you really love me, don't follow me out. Just let me go." She slams the door on him and immediately breaks down in tears. Why is she crying? Why did she raise her tone? That's what he does? Is she just gonna be more and more like him until she is him? How many time has he said that she was just like him at his age? How many times has mom denied it, did she mean it? After a few minutes of sobbing on the floor, she gets up and starts packing her things. She doesn't have much, but too much for one bike. So she puts in a call to Fig.


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