“It's a great idea,” Jenna says excitedly. “I love it.”
“Dude,” Ryder chimes in. “I thought you were going to tell us something else. Like you hit one of the chickens or something. This is nothing. I'm glad you finally got laid.”
“Ryder!” Jenna yells with a smile as she slaps his chest. “Seriously though, what's your plan? What are you going to do?”
“I don't have a clue.”
“All right, I'm going to help you, but let me fill you in on some stuff about her family.”
Jenna goes on to tell me they're really difficult when it comes to any of their children, and what they do or who they associate with. They're loaded, like gold plated toilet loaded.
“I don't care who they are or what they're like, all I want is to see her. I need to see her. I can't explain it any other way than that.”
“All right, then let’s get you to her.” Jenna gives me a big toothy grin as she slaps the tabletop. “Sitting here isn't going to do that. You're getting on the next flight out there.”
“You don't think she'll be weirded out if I show up out of the blue?”
“I think you'll never know if you don't try. What's the worst that happens?”
“I make a fool of myself.”
“You do that every day,” Ryder says. Slugging him in the arm, he laughs as he rubs it. “I'm kidding. I think you should go for it too. Why wait around and wonder?”
Ryder is right. They're both right. Life is always full of risk.
I can't fail if I don't try, but I'm not living if I never take that step forward.
“What time's the next flight?”
6
Siobhan
Spinning the fork against the white granite countertop, I stare off out the window at the Hudson River. The sun is dangling directly overhead, creating twilights in the still water. The clock behind me ticks like a metronome, drowning out the sounds of the city below.
Ever since I came back from New Hampshire, life here seems even more mundane. I go through the motions, holding up the obligations that my mother so kindly likes to offer, not that I really have a say in the matter.
Dinners with doctors and lawyers, black tie charity events, award ceremonies for the men and women who surround my parents in the medical world. And all the while I wear a fake smile, with fake laughs, and feign interest in their endeavors.
Don't get me wrong, some of the advancements made in the medical field are amazing, but it doesn't mean I want to throw on some uncomfortable ball gown and pretend to be someone I'm not.
People might think I'm being vain, or because I live this lavish lifestyle I should be grateful. And I am. I'm very grateful. I just wish my parents would stop trying to mold me into one of them when all I want is to be me.
My parents really do incredible work. What they do is selfless, and their patients are grateful. I'm grateful for the magic they perform to make other's lives better. They're plastic surgeons who help patients that need reconstructive surgery from accidents, cancers, severe burns, and all sorts of horrors.
But beneath that cloak of greatness are two people who uphold status, and the grandeur of outside appearances. I'm a girl wearing a mask, but deep down I don't want any of this.
“You're not eating,” my mother says as she sits down next to me, blowing cool air across the top of her tea. Pursing her lips, she holds the string of the teabag, steeping it over and over as she watches me like a hawk.
“I'm not really hungry.”
Looking at her from the corner of my eyes, her lips wrinkle as she puckers, and small crow’s feet extend out from her eyes as she turns to look out the window.
“Well, tomorrow we have our charity event breakfast. Dr. Fayette and his wife are at your table. I hope you find your appetite before then.”
“I can just stay here. It's not like you really need me there.”
Dr. Fayette is a gastrointestinal doctor, who speaks too freely at the table about his craft. Even if I had an appetite, I'd lose it the second he starts talking.
Flicking her gaze in my direction, her eyes sharpen. “He's top of the board, Siobhan. You'll be there, and you'll make a good impression.”
I don't bother arguing, it won't change her mind. Nodding, I lay my fork on the plate and push myself back from the counter.
“Sure, whatever you say.”
“There are expectations, Siobhan, expectations everyone in this family has to abide by. Like it or not, you're part of it.”
Rolling my eyes to myself, I keep my mouth shut. I've been down this road before, and I know silence is better than a day full of snappy and rude comments.