~
“Thanks for coming,” my father tells me as he takes the chicken out of the fridge.
I grab the shallots, the garlic and the chopping board.
“Dad, I’m not a relative who came to a wedding. I’m your daughter and I came home. You don’t have to thank me for anything.”
“Still, I’m glad you’re here. She misses you.”
“I know.”
“And I miss you.” He puts an arm around me.
I rest my head against his shoulder. “I miss both of you, too, Dad.”
He squeezes my shoulder, then steps away to start carving and deboning the chicken. I pull a knife out of the box and start slicing a shallot.
“So, how’s working at the hospital?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you and Mom all about it during dinner,” I say. Then I pause. “Or maybe after dinner so you guys won’t throw up.”
He chuckles. “What about when you’re not at the hospital? What do you do?”
“Sleep.”
Another chuckle. “What about friends?”
“I have a few.”
“And a boyfriend?”
I turn to him with arched eyebrows. “Dad!”
“What?” He shrugs. “You’re a grown woman.”
“I’m trying to be a doctor, Dad.”
“I know. I know you want to save lives, save the world. But you deserve to save some of yourself for yourself, too. You deserve to find happiness and love.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe we are having this conversation.”
“You know your mom won’t have it. She thinks you’ve got enough on your plate.”
“I do.”
“And she’s afraid because she feels like she’s already putting enough pressure on you to become a doctor.”
“She’s not.”
“She doesn’t want to put pressure on you to get a family, too, even though she wants you to. She wants you to have it all, just like I do.”
I put the sliced shallots aside. “Well, some people can’t.”
“But you’ll try?” Dad asks. “I’ve heard doctors usually marry other doctors. Maybe there’s someone at the hospital who – ”
“Dad,” I cut him off and give him a stern look. “I can’t promise I’ll find someone who will love me the way you love Mom.”
That makes him smile.
“But I’ll try not to shove him away if he appears.”
He nods. “Okay.”
He falls silent as he continues with his task. As I start peeling the garlic, my thoughts drift to Rainier.
Rainier. Even when I don’t want to think about him, he just pops into my head. Then again, I suppose that’s inevitable since he’s the only man I’ve been with.
I’d better not tell that to Dad or Mom or they’ll freak out. They’ll think they didn’t raise me right if they find out I slept with my boss and a man I barely know. Twice.
Well, at least it’s never happening again. The sex was good, undoubtedly, but I need more than sex.
I deserve more.
“Ellis?” My dad’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “You okay? You seem to have drifted into the deep end there.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him quickly with a smile. “I was just… thinking about work.”
“Okay.”
“But I shouldn’t be. I should be concentrating, because Mom won’t forgive me if I screw up her famous chicken parcels.”
My dad laughs and pats me on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry. I think we’ll be able to put up a good dinner.”
~
It wasn’t as good as Mom used to make it, but I guess it was fine. More importantly, we enjoyed dinner, reminiscing on old times, catching up on what we’ve missed in recent months, and simply talking about random stuff. It’s the conversations that make dinners special just as much as the food.
Now, Mom and Dad are in bed and the house is quiet. I should probably be getting a good night’s sleep, too, while I can, but for some reason, I can’t sleep. I decide to go to the attic to grab the other boxes of Christmas decorations and put them up. That way, Mom won’t have to.
The stairs creak and I take each step carefully, not wanting to end up with a sprain like my mom. At the top, I open the door. The smell of mold and dust immediately hits me and I suppress a cough.
I sure hope nothing’s died up here.
I turn on a light and open a window to air the room. A breeze blows in and my lungs immediately feel better.
Now I won’t have to worry about pneumonia.
I look around the room. All I see are boxes stacked on top of each other. So many boxes. I frown.
I’m pretty sure I know what’s in these boxes – things that Mom and Dad brought from the old house that I grew up in, the house that they sold to put me through medical school. They’re beautiful things. Old things. Things that tell interesting stories and bring back wonderful memories. Things that they were probably hoping they’d find a place for in their new home but didn’t because this house isn’t big enough or beautiful enough to house such a collection of treasures.