Chapter Two Welcome to Cherrybridge #2
Jason’s not really that bad. He’s just a bit corny sometimes.
He’s ten years older than Mom, so he’s the same age as most of my friends’ dads.
Jason’s father owns LeClair Industries, an automotive parts manufacturer that’s the biggest employer in Cherrybridge.
Actually, the biggest company of any kind here.
Jason and his brother both work at LeClair Industries, but Jason is also a town councilor, so he’s only a part-time executive at the company.
Mom met Jason about two years ago when he was at a fundraiser in Toronto.
He had cut himself with a cheese knife, and Mom bandaged the wound after the doctor stitched it up in the ER.
Which is the grossest meet-cute for so many reasons, but when they randomly saw each other in a café the next day, he asked Mom out.
They were long distance for a while, mostly seeing each other on weekends, until they got married and Mom moved to Cherrybridge.
It feels so weird that Mom, an Indian single mother from Toronto, married this random rich white guy from a small town.
Like, she was single for years, she barely even dated, and then poof—she has a wedding in a country club and moves to a big house with a pool.
My friends call it a modern Cinderella story and say it’s better than the best romance novel, but I don’t buy it.
I mean, Mom worked really hard to be independent, and has always taken pride in her job as a nurse, but now she’s saying she wants to be a stay-at-home mom?
It just doesn’t make any sense to me because that’s definitely not how she raised me.
Thankfully, Jason hasn’t tried to be a father to me or anything like that.
I guess because I’m seventeen, there isn’t any point.
I’ll be a legal adult in a year. And for most of my life, Mom always kind of left me to take care of myself, partially because she was working all the time, but also because she trusted me.
Until now, that is.
He points out some other things on the drive, like a high school and a mall. It all looks small and uninteresting. When we pass right through the downtown core (if you can even call it that), I wonder where exactly this park I’ll be working at is.
“How far are we going?” I ask.
“Gordon Park is near the river. Across Cherry Bridge.”
I laugh. Cherrybridge actually has a cherry bridge? “How am I going to get home? I’m only supposed to stay until two, right?”
“I’ll take a break and pick you up,” he says. “If I’m not here at two, text your mother.”
That seems silly. I’m not used to relying on others to get places. “Isn’t there a bus?”
He shakes his head. “The city is trying to get a public transit system off the ground, at least a few routes, but it’s a small municipality. It’s challenging to get anything done. To be honest, I’m surprised this park project is happening at all.”
Mom told me my community service would be weeding and landscaping a park, which sounds incredibly boring but mindless and easy at least. Other than that, I really don’t know much about the project.
Right after we cross the bridge, there’s an enormous complex of buildings that are surrounded by the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. “That’s the LeClair plant,” Jason says.
My eyes widen. Until now I don’t think I fully grasped how powerful this family my mother married into is.
The grounds are pristine, and there’s a black chain-link fence with a gate surrounding the property.
Like Jason’s brother’s house, it has a vague Victorian style, even though it’s definitely not that old.
I kind of want to take pictures because it’s not like any factory I’ve seen before.
I don’t say anything, because it feels weird to compliment the business that Jason only works at because his family owns it.
“Gordon Park is just on the other side of the plant,” Jason says as he turns left.
“What’s the story with this park project, anyway?” I ask.
“Gordon Park hasn’t been utilized to its full potential for a while,” Jason says, watching the road carefully.
“No one can agree on what should happen there. Some want a big children’s water play park, while others want to turn it into a nature reserve.
Because the town can’t make a decision, it’s been neglected.
Finally we realized that we have to do something, so the parks and rec department partnered with the youth services department and created this summer restoration program to bring it back to what it used to be at least.”
My brows rise as a realization hits me. “So, all the kids working there will be, like, getting community service hours like me?” I didn’t really think about the fact that I’ll be spending the summer with a bunch of kids who’ve been in legal trouble. That is so not my normal crowd.
Jason nods. “There’s a need for youth programs to keep kids off the streets in the summer. So this is a kill two birds with one stone solution.”
I cringe reflexively. I hate that saying; birds are the best. Why would someone create a saying about killing them? Even more wrong to use that saying to talk about at-risk teens and environmental revitalization projects?
Jason stops the car on the side of a road between a convenience store and a parking lot.
This must be the park… if you can call it that.
It’s full of long grass, prickly weeds, and gravel.
The only way I know that this space is a park is because there are two old picnic tables near the road, with a bunch of people sitting on them.
“This is it?” I fail at keeping the dismay out of my voice.
“It goes back a ways. There’s even an old bandstand back there. The woman in the yellow jacket is Lainey from Youth Services. Introduce yourself to her.”
I frown. I guess he’s not going to introduce me himself? I move to get out of the car. “Okay. Um, thanks for the ride.”
“Send me or your mother a text if you have any issues,” Jason says. “Have fun!”
I shut the car door. Have fun? At my court-ordered community service?
I exhale, slip my earbuds into my pocket, square my shoulders, and walk toward the picnic tables. It’s time for me to face the music and meet the people that I’ll be spending one hundred hours with this summer.