Chapter Text
“I'm sorry, Nathaniel, my little Neil, for all the awful things I did and especially for the good ones I didn’t. I wasn’t able to. Now I can’t go back to you, but I will bless you one last time as a true mother. If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.”
For a moment, he feels the abandonment again and tries to imagine the life he could’ve had there, living in a farm with his mom, away from Nathan Wesninski’s fists and that miserable, gray existence in the great stone forests. Capitalism has trapped him and now Nathaniel keeps questioning himself: why flee from such a fiery, infernal, full of hatred, cruelty just to be stuck in this empty, cold and toxic... cruelty?
Maybe the letter is his second chance. He will always be a runner because of Mary Hatford’s blood in his veins afterall. Crushed by the burden of modern life, in memory of a mother who he thought had long forgotten him, he smiles at the challenge and begins packing an old Joja duffel bag.
“I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Foxhole Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor my name and find a real family, my boy. Good luck.”
☀ Spring, Day 1
When he was young, his father said death was the most beautiful enigma, a riddle to play with. Thus, at the exact moment he put his feet on the fresh lawn and felt the green expanse rooting his body to the earth, Neil thought that maybe, just maybe, his father was wrong. Life was this tremendous wonderful and dangerous thing who could fill him with so much more than death’s void brought.
He could actually hear the birds singing.
Neil’s fingertips itched to finally do something.
“Hello! You must be Neil.” A middle-aged woman, who seemed to be the only one in the wild-looking place, walks up to him with a sweet smile and curious eyes. “I’m Betsy, the local carpenter. You can call me whatever you like; I'll answer to just about anything from Betsy to Doc to Hey You. Mayor Wymack sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival. The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”
He was dumbstruck for a second or two. In the city, people interacted like ice cubes hitting each other, and furthermore nothing in that conversation would sound remotely secure. Yes, he talked with the mayor to organize everything but...
But then she is grabbing his duffel and showing more and more of the wonderland he would be living in.
Huh. Not really a wonderland, he thinks, foot bogging down in soil that didn't seem ready for plantations. There was weed (not the good type) and rocks everywhere, with trees taking over the land.
“This is Foxhole Farm… What’s the matter? Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication you’ll have it cleaned up in no time… And here we are, your new home.”
“Ah, the new farmer!” said a surly looking man who had just left the aged house. He carried a funny match of feral tattoos and cute suspenders. “Welcome! I’m David Wymack, Mayor of Palmetto Town. Just call me Coach if you want, kiddo. We’ve been talking on the phone, but you didn’t remember me Mary at all. Now… Now I see. You have the same look in your eyes. Wherever she is, she will be happy for you.”
“Maybe.” What should he answer? How could he explain the meaning of that to him and how much he was grateful? So Neil nodded and wished they would talk more about his mom later. He wanted to devour everything that involved her only to be a little more close to the mother he never had.
“You know, everyone’s been asking about you,” Coach said. “It’s not everyday that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal!”
“I don’t like gossip.” Not the ones about himself, at least.
“Heh, don’t worry, we are just a bunch of country jerks but also a big family. The community will accept you as a son sooner or later, there is no escape.”
No escape was… something. Ah, maybe he should stop his stubbornness and go to therapy after all.
“So… You’re moving into your mother’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”
“Rustic?” Betsy chuckled. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”
“Don’t listen to her, Neil. She’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of her house upgrades.”
“I see. Capitalism is ending this good world.” He said, half-joking. The door didn’t even have a lock. Of course, in such a small town, it wouldn’t be necessary anyway.
“Yeah. Well, you must be tired from the long journey. You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The gossipy townspeople would appreciate that.” Both adults (damn, sometimes Neil forgot that we was an adult himself, almost nineteen) passed some time explaining how things worked, wandering around the grass. “Good luck then, mini-Mary!”
“Oh, Neil, pass by the Mountain for dinner sometime so you can meet my children. I think Andrew will like you!” Coach snorted by her side.
And then they were gone.
The quiet bus ride had been a start to this nice solitude. The former melting blue sky was now bleeding stars. The people he met today were kind and more human than any other person in the city.
It would be hard to be the new guy in this quirky small town but, well, Neil has always been a good liar.
Maybe he wouldn’t need to lie. Maybe those uncomfortable feelings are the only way to killing all the pain, like ripping a band-aid off. Maybe he shouldn’t wear Neil Hatford like a mask.
The best form of hope was just being Neil Hatford, living Neil Hatford. And hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing, but he thought perhaps he liked it.
☀ Spring, Day 2
Neil woke up at five thirty, just like always. He went through his morning ritual, ran a little bit around the grounds, and then put on his favorite denim overalls, a grey t-shirt and old leather boots. His backpack (adventurer bag, he named it) was already filled with all the rusty tools his mother left there, plus his binder. Funny how much such a small thing could handle. Go figure.
After staring at the dust caught by Sun light from the window for too long, he turned on the archaic TV, flicking through the channels with the buttons on the side trying to see… anything. Welcome back to Living Off the Land! An elderly man said, intersplicing clips of people gathering armfuls of wood and stone, a remind of the long days ahead. The next channel that came in clear was the weather channel, And for tomorrow’s forecast: it’ll be a bright and sunny day! Nothing new for the season. Neil sort of liked it but there was something about rainy days that made him flow at the pace of nature, regardless of the situation. The only other channel that came in had a woman dressed in a blue robe waving her hands over a crystal ball. The fuck. It seems the spirits are pleased today. You’ll have a little extra luck! The problem was that Neil only believed in the bad kind of luck. He shook his head with a laugh before something small and yellow caught his eye. He’d overlooked it the day before, sitting on his wooden table. A little ‘Welcome Home’ present – Mayor Wymack , the box said. Inside it there were a few seed packets. Parsnips. Oh, so he was not totally illiterate about farming. Neil got momentarily nervous, wondering if he really was made for this. However, even without feeling prepared, he would try. He should. For his mother. For himself. Foxhole Farm needed him as much as he needed it.
Breaking the waves of anxiety and procrastination, he finally made his way down the creaky porch outside, and, with dull blades and a leaking can, started cleaning, planting and creating life. At the end, Neil was impressed it was only noon. Energized by his hard work, he thought it was time to meet the excited people around town. It would be a nice gesture to introduce himself but also a new chance to… bonding? Back in the city, he remembered always being on edge even inside his old apartment, and how everyone wanted to be left alone. Hell, knowing himself, that could go downhill pretty fast.
Making his way to Palmetto, as he walked through the town square, his eyes roamed all around to take in what would soon be everyday life for him. The ground was cobblestone with the path lined by a wooden fence, and he could see the little garden in a corner was being very well cared. There weren’t any cars and everyone was probably lunching.
He went into the first building he saw, which happened to be a doctor’s office. There was a short blond-haired man with a blond mustache in a white medical coat standing behind the counter. By his side, a cheerful redhead with blue eyes like Neil hummed while stirring some test tubes. “Oh, hello,” Blond-Mustache spoke with doubt and maybe suspicion, looking between the papers on the counter and Neil. “You are…?”
“Neil Hatford. I just inherited Foxhole Farm.” He replied numbly.
“Right… Bee talked about you.” Said Blond-Mustache. “I’m Aaron, by the way. That’s my wife, Katelyn, the local doctor. So... are you going to dinner at our house tonight?”
“Um.”
“You can’t run away from mom, she’s obsessed with manners. And people.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll be there, thank you! Ah, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to introduce myself.” He said, turning to leave.
“No worries, Neil, it’s very nice to meet you. Have a good day!” Katelyn waved at him, chuckling to herself after he was gone.
The next stop was the general store where he could buy proper food. However, he found two tall guys staring at him with too much interest. Old paranoia crawled inside him. But entering more steps he discovered himself embraced by the small family. Nicholas Hemmick, an outgoing, friendly guy who was brimming with youthful energy, was Aaron’s cousin and just trying-to-start-a-band-can-you-play-drums, the dark skinned boy told him while holding a skateboard and drumsticks. Despite being quieter, Kevin Day, the one with green eyes, also spoke loudly and fervently, especially about some video game called Exy, and his mother, Kayleigh, who owned the store and was currently trying to beat Joja. One hour later, Neil was pretty sure he knew everything about their lives. He made friends for the first time in his life just nodding along.
Neil used to be rude and violent with people because that was all he knew, but he thought he might like to hear the chatter and gossip if it warmed his heart so much. Being forced to work a crummy office job for his uncle’s huge corporation caused a mental health crisis leading him to make either the best or the worst decision of his life. It was extreme, but he supposed that being adopted by this chaotic people was way better than he could ever have back there. What is the point of surviving if you are not living and loving?
“Seriously, Nicky, I can’t play for shit.” The other young man sighed dramatically.
“Fine, I guess you can be our fanboy.” Nicky grinned and that was a bad sign. “Andrew is the main singer and I’m a guitarist but now I also have to babysit the drums because Kevin hurt his hand in the caves!”
“Caves?”
“Yes, and it was just at the entrace, he didn’t even really go in! Honestly, I don’t recommend you going down there, sweetie. My mother said there’s monsters and lava lakes. And worse: bats!”
“How can bats be worse than monsters?”
“How do you know bats are not monsters?”
“Okay, there’s a lot of ‘how’s going on here and none is asking how I am after such a dangerous experience!” Kevin almost pouted, attached to Neil now he gained permission to walk around Neil’s overgrown fields like a 19th century lady waiting for her long-lost lover.
“Well, how did it happen?”
Before Kevin could answer, Nicky whispered conspiratorially, “It’s all Moriyama’s fault. Riko is like the boss of Joja here but sometimes it feels like he wants to be the boss of the whole Valley. Anyways, he ordered an excavation in the mountains and now everything is a mess and it’s so not safe, ugh!”
“Boys, are you destroying my store again?” A female voice came from behind a big door that led to the house upstairs. It was Kayleigh Day, all green eyes, green hair, green glasses and a long hippie (green) skirt. She matched the store, which was a cozy place to be in, not like those gray, robotic supermarkets. The tiny place was full of shelves filled with sustainable, vegan and healthy food, plus seeds, saplings and fertilizer with a fair price.
“Hi, I’m Neil, the…”
“New farmer! Hi! Come in, come in. This should be great for helping pick up the economy here in Palmetto. Things have changed since Joja Mart opened up across town a few years back. But things for our local businesses should hopefully pick up now that you're here.” That was a lot of expectations running on him alone, and suddenly he was insecure and worried about giving himself to the unknown more than ever. And apparently his name was now New Farmer. Subconsciously, Neil started to snap his fingers, the Tourette’s Syndrome showing up, and this was just one more tic he got with the stress of moving. Kayleigh seemed to pick up on this quickly, “Oh, we’re a tight knit community here in Palmetto Town, so we all like to pitch in to help others when we can. Please, let me teach you everything about the crops we grow here. Do you like tea?”
☾
It was very unfortunate having to climb the mountain after a good shower (not so good since it was in the small lake in front of his house, refreshing and strengthening and fun but no so good, he should probably ask Betsy about the house upgrades). He wasn’t even sure about being invited. Damn. Was this his life now?
Walking by cliffs and bushes in the cool night air, Neil found a daffodil and picked it up to gift Betsy. He can be polite when he wants, okay?
Taking a deep breath, he found himself in front of a welcoming carpenter’s shop, logs and telescopes mixing in the corner giving a unique trace to the place. However, he was stopped by tripping over a tool box. Without further ado, he fell in the dirt, mud smearing his nice, comfy sweater. When he looked down, he saw his hand was scratched, blood playing around wanting to leave. Embarrassed, he quickly stood up.
When he looked up, he saw him . It was Blond-Mustache, only it wasn’t. This one smelled like smoke, seasalt and gasoline. He wore black ripped jeans, black combat boots and black armbands that clashed with ashen skin and solar hair. When he saw Neil staring, oops, standing there, the shortest boy came out from under his fucking motorcycle and they met each other with similar blank faces. The soft garage light made everything seem more idyllic as if time has stagnated while two worlds collapsed. Well, Neil had literally collapsed.
Fun fact: the man was shirtless. And, to make it worse, he was shredded. Those biceps marked with grease and oil stains equaled both Neil’s arms together. Not that Neil cared about this. Nope. It is just of kind human nature to admire the efforts of others. Politeness.
Instinctively, Neil took a deep breath and offered the fucking daffodil to Andrew Minyard. “My name to meet Hatford you, i’ts Neil nice.” He stuttered. Like a awkward teenager giving a PowerPoint presentation with no preparing. Neil Hatford never stuttered.
“You are hurt.” Mr. Obvious said, frowning briefly just to notice. He took a band-aids pack out of nowhere but hesitated, “Can I hold your hand?”
“Absolutely! I mean, yeah.” What the hell was happening with him? He didn’t have this kind of feelings . “Huh, it’s nothing, really. One more for my first day farming, I guess. You should see what the scythe did to me.”
He would never tell how many wounds he carried throughout life. Thus, his scars were horror stories that Neil dared to read only to himself before he went to sleep.
“For Yoba’s sake, you are chatty.”
“Hey, your cousin’s influence.”
Andrew made a sour face, treating Neil’s injury with gentleness but piercing Neil’s mind with daggers in form of hazel eyes.
“So, out of all the places you could live, you chose Palmetto Town?”
“My mother was the one to choose and she stayed at this place for a reason, so I’m only looking for such a reason too. I’ll tell you when I know. Someday.”
“Hum. Bee told us you came from the big city.” It was not a question, it was a granted truth, but Neil used to read people better than anyone else and knew the distrust in Andrew’s calm voice. Then Neil answered it anyway. He couldn’t fanthom why.
“I’m exhausted, I need something to live for.” Andrew Minyard looked like a motherfucker asshole. Neil himself was a rascal brat. “Do you want to be my friend?”
The Minyard paused to a halt, narrowing his eyes slightly at Neil while cicadas and crickets sang and the moon milky light wove a blanket of empathy and understanding and longing between the two young men. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay!”
“Okay…”
“Fuck, is this your way of declaring you like John Green?”
“One more word and I stab you with this wrench.” But the tender touch at his palm remained a little longer and Andrew was holding the flower Neil gave him in a tight grip. After taking care of the minor bruise, Andrew presented a two-finger salute. “Better luck next time.”