When Jack reached his house, he couldn’t remember how he'd gotten there. While his mind struggled to process the shock of his breakup, his legs had worked on autopilot, bringing him back home.

Each of Lydia’s remarks echoed in his head, torturing him, suffocating him. Were they really not together anymore? Was he that immature?

He trudged toward the door, and the motion sensor turned on the front door lights, making it easier to find his keys.

“I’m home,” he muttered as he entered.

Hushed voices were coming from the kitchen. What was going on? Why wasn’t anyone answering? “Hello? Mom? Dad?” he called as he headed toward them. The closer he got, the clearer the voices became.

They were speaking in Portuguese. Even though they had immigrated more than three decades ago, his parents still spoke their native tongue to each other. Jack had avoided speaking it himself because his cousins made fun of his accent, but he understood it perfectly.

"Do you blame him? That producer broke his heart."

“That was two years ago! We can't keep excusing his behavior because of one disappointment. I need you to back me up on this,” his father said.

“But, honey. Things are different from when we were young,” his mother replied, sitting down with flushed cheeks, probably from cooking. “I don’t want to put him through what we suffered. Wasn’t that why we came here? To give him a better life? If we're patient, all will fall into place.”

“Hey,” Jack greeted. “Is everything OK?”

Both turned toward him. His mom looked down, and his father stood up, eyes blazing. Jack knew that look. He was in trouble.

His father, a short man who barely reached Jack's chest, wore brown overalls and had tanned skin from working under the sun. His dark skin accentuated the hard lines and wrinkles on his face. Even though his English was clear, his Portuguese accent was still strong. “You can explain this?”

“Yo, tubers! This is Jack of Spades. What’s up? I’m about to show you how to quit your job like a boss. Watch this!”

Jack had completely forgotten about the video and hadn’t even checked its performance. The video brought back the painful memory of his conversation with Lydia. After several hours online, it only had 18 views, reinforcing Lydia’s accusations. Seeing his father playing the video and glaring at him, Jack knew where some of those views had come from.

He felt he was on trial, with his father as the prosecutor. Lydia was the first witness, and now he was being shown exhibit A, the sorry video he had posted earlier today. What had seemed like an epic moment at Cheap Mart now looked like childish bravado. Finally, the video ended.

His father waited silently. Jack knew the routine. His father would keep staring until he said something.

“I was going to tell you I quit, Dad, but you didn’t even give me a chance.”

“Son! This has to stop. What I tell you? Never close a door. Always leave with style. Why you don't listen to me?”

His father wasn’t shouting or angry; he was sad and disappointed, which was worse. “When you told your mom you wanted to drop out of college to try your music thing, I didn’t agree, but I supported you. Then you moped for weeks on end. Sitting around and watching TV.”

“Not this again,” Jack muttered under his breath.

“José…” his mother began, but his father continued, ignoring both.

“I had to find jobs for you and beg you to go. Then you quit. Then I found more jobs. But you keep quitting. ‘It’s too gross,’ ‘they pay too little,’ ‘it's not for me.’ How many jobs have I found for you, son? You know?”

Jack felt the weight of the day crashing down on him. He had never expected to come home to this. “No, Dad.”

“I do. Thirteen. The longest you lasted was three months. Your record for the shortest time is one day,” he said, shaking his head.

“I hated my job at Cheap Mart. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“You always blame the work and the boss, but the guilty man is in front of me,” he countered, pointing at Jack.

Jack felt dizzy. This had to be the worst day of his life. “Listen, Dad, I’ve had a long day and need to go to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning, OK?”

“No! We talk now!” his father demanded. "When your mom and I left Portugal and came here, we worked hard. Two jobs, sometimes three. Do you know how we made it? Do you know how we bought this house?”

“By doing the work no one else wanted to do,” Jack recited.

“Yes! Dirty work. Hard work. Honest work. Why you don’t want to work? What’s wrong, son? Explain to me.”

“All these little jobs aren’t for me, Dad. I want to do something great. I want a good job.”

“Good job? What is a good job?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I don’t know. Something that pays well without requiring all this hard, dirty work. No offense, but you guys are the immigrants, not me. I should be able to do better for myself.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “Something like this?” He shook his phone at Jack. “An internet star?”

Before today, Jack would have responded confidently, but Lydia’s words had shaken him. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

His father turned to his mother and said in Portuguese, “See what I was talking about?” His mother looked down again, almost as if she were the one on trial. “Listen, Jack. Things are going to change around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“From now on, you’ll pay rent.”

“Dad? Come on.”

“No! You will pay rent. 500 credits.”

“What? Dad, wait. I-”

“It’s reasonable. It helps with the mortgage, utilities, and internet. It’s the least you can do, son. If you don’t want to pay, feel free to find somewhere else to live.”

“Oh, my goodness. You’re serious.” Jack was in shock. “Mom,” he said, looking for support, “please, talk to Dad.”

“José, maybe we can find another way to make your point.”

“No! He will pay rent, Maria. He only works at all because we’ve stopped giving him money, and I’m always on top of him. We won’t be around forever. He has to learn.”

“José, come on. We-”

“Maria, this is for his own good.” Turning to Jack, he continued, “I’m sorry, son. We can’t enable you anymore. You have one month from today to pay the first rent.”

Jack clenched his fists. He turned away and stormed off to his room.

As he lay on his bed, he thought about his lousy day. First Lydia, and now Dad too?

*

Knock, knock.

“Come in,” Jack called out, glancing at the clock. It was 8:30 pm. He had spent the last few hours lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His mother entered the room in her work uniform. “I just wanted to check on you before I leave for work,” she said, approaching the bed and sitting down beside him. “How are you holding up?”

“Rough day,” Jack muttered, rubbing his face. His jaw tightened as he thought about his dad’s earlier lecture. “Mom... is Dad serious? About me paying rent?”

His mother nodded, her expression soft but serious.

Jack let out a long breath, frustration gnawing at him. “Can’t you talk to him? I mean, 500 credits is a lot.”

“I tried, honey, but you know how your father is. Once he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it,” she said, giving him a sympathetic smile. After a quick glance toward the door, she lowered her voice. “I can pitch in 100 credits, help ease the load. So you’ll just need to come up with the rest.”

She gave him a wink, but Jack’s face remained tight. 400 was still more than he could manage. Even after Cheap Mart's paycheck, with his credit card payments looming, he’d barely have enough left over. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anything for my baby,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. “I better get to work. Take care of yourself tonight, okay?”

“Yeah.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Jack considered what to do. The day's conversations played on a loop in his head, like a bad movie he couldn't switch off. He checked his phone—18 views on his Cheap Mart video. It had been stuck there all day.

He felt a mix of anger and shame inside him. For a moment, he considered deleting his channel altogether. But he didn't. What he wanted to delete was this day. Too bad that was impossible.

Jack sat up, grabbed his keys, and left his room. He needed to get out and clear his head.

*

After walking aimlessly for what felt like hours, Jack found himself standing outside Roberto’s building. His legs had apparently gone on auto-pilot again. He knew his cousin wouldn’t be asleep yet—it was only around 10 pm—so he rang the bell and waited.

A moment later, the door swung open. “Jack? What’s up?” Roberto’s usually neat hair was a mess, and he was wearing sweatpants and a white sleeveless shirt.

“Hey, Rob. Mind if I come in?”

“Sure thing,” Roberto said, stepping aside. Jack followed him in and closed the door behind him.

Unlike Jack, Roberto was born in sector 3, what used to be called Portugal, Spain, and France. He had immigrated a few years back and found a one-bedroom apartment near Jack’s house. They had the same thick eyebrows, dark Latin eyes, and round faces. Many people who saw them together asked them if they were brothers, but they were, in reality, cousins.

“What’s up, cousin?” Rob asked as he sat on his sofa. “I was just about to have dinner.”

Jack smiled, hearing it. Typical Portuguese. Having dinner super late and going to bed almost at midnight.

“Are you OK? You look upset.”

Jack hesitated for a second, then sat down across from him. “Not really. It’s been a rough day.”

“How come? You looked like you were on top of the world when you quit your job.”

Jack's eyes widened, hearing that Rob had seen the video. From those 18 views on his video, how many didn't belong to his cousin or his dad? “Yeah… that didn’t pan out exactly as I thought.”

Roberto chuckled. “You’re nuts, man. But that’s why I love you.”

Jack forced a smile. “Yeah, well, the day kinda spiraled after that. I was out clearing my head and figured I’d drop by since I was nearby.” His eyes flicked toward the giant screen covering most of the wall. “New TV?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

“Yep,” Roberto said, grabbing the remote and turning it on.

Jack’s jaw dropped as the display came to life. “Oh my goodness, that 3D rendering is insane!”

Roberto grinned. “It’s pretty sweet, huh?”

As Jack glanced around the apartment, he noticed more new stuff. There was a sleek, top-of-the-line coffee machine sitting on the counter, which looked even fancier than the ones at Lydia’s café. In the kitchen, he spotted a cleaning droid charging in the corner. “You’ve picked up some nice new toys since I was here last.”

“What can I say? I’ve been doing pretty well lately,” Roberto said with a shrug, though the pride in his voice was evident.

Jack’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been grinding his teeth until now. “Yeah, I can see that,” he muttered. Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “I’m jealous.”

“Construction is hard work, but it pays good money.”

Jack frowned. “You’re telling me you bought this TV with what you make at the construction site?”

“Well, I do have a new gig, too.”

“What’s that? Did you get a second job?” asked Jack, secretly hoping that the answer was no. He didn’t need another living case of success to make him feel bad about himself.

“Kind of.”

“What do you mean, kind of?”

“Have you heard of New Earth?”