I put my phone on silent, tucked it into my bag, and checked my reflection in my rearview mirror. I added a bit more concealer under my eyes since I hadn’t been sleeping much. Between exams, papers, and Dillon, I wasn’t getting as much rest as I should. My parents would notice at a glance. They were doctors, and they could always tell, but I could at least try to hide the worst of it.
I added some lip balm since it wouldn’t add a shine or color to my lips. My mother had strict guidelines for what she liked to see on her daughter. And, sometimes, I didn’t care. Other times, I just wanted to get through dinner without too many arguments, and that meant falling in line. As it was, I was going to disappoint them because I wasn’t switching majors as they wanted.
I might as well not stoke the fires while I was at it.
I put my bag over my elbow, got out of my car, and made my way down the long path towards my parents’ home. I had grown up privileged. I knew that. I was blessed and was well aware that I didn’t have to fight for many of the things others still did. My goal was to work in a field where I could help others and not just people who came from the same background as I had.
I wasn’t sure my parents would understand that, but I couldn’t change their minds in an instant, even though I’d been trying for years.
I rang the doorbell and waited for my mother to answer. Mother always answered the door, even though she was as much an established and prestigious doctor as my father. But there were certain norms in the household. Mother opened the door if there was no staff on hand, and Father would greet me by the mantel. It was what they had always done. It never made any sense to me, but I let it go.
My mother opened the door and smiled politely, the pearls around her neck glistening. She studied my face, her gaze moving down to my perfectly lovely cardigan I had paired with my dress, as well as my sensible heels. She gave me an approving nod after glancing at my eyes, and I was grateful that I had bothered to put on these clothes rather than something I was a little more comfortable in. She took a step back and gestured for me to walk into the house.
“Elise, I’m glad you’re on time.” No hello, no I love you, no how are you—just a quip about promptness. I had arrived early because I was afraid that traffic might delay me, and I’d stayed in the car and texted Dillon until it was time for me to go into the house. Being early was too inconvenient. Being late was never allowed. Being on time was somehow perfect. I usually liked to be early, so I ended up waiting around for my parents most days until the exact, promised time.
“Hello, Mother,” I said and kissed her cheek as she leaned down. She was three inches taller than me, and since she wore more elevated heels—at least for the day—it made for a more noticeable height difference. I knew she’d done it on purpose, for the same reasons I wore sensible heels around her. Or that I didn’t wear flats because my mother thought flats were for girls in ballet. I happened to like them, but I wasn’t going to get into that fight with her tonight.
“Your father’s near the mantel as always. Go say hello to him. I’ll get your club soda ready.”
I hated club soda and would rather have regular soda, juice, water, or God forbid something alcoholic, but I still wasn’t of legal age, and there was no drinking in our household. At least not for me.
My parents drank their normal martinis and whiskeys, but I wasn’t even allowed to acknowledge its existence for another three months.
I swore my parents were the WASPs of old living in Colorado, and I didn’t quite understand how they’d ended up here.
“Hello, Father,” I said and kissed his cheek as he leaned down.
“Elise. You’re looking well.” He narrowed his eyes partially.
“I noticed the bags, as well. Elise, darling, are you using the night creams I sent? When you own your practice, you’re going to need to make sure that you have the face to match. People won’t want to come to you for specialties if you look old and haggard.”
I was twenty years old. And yes, I wore night cream. But not the same one my mother slathered on every evening. She was welcome to do whatever she wanted to her face. It was hers. However, my body was mine. But I wasn’t going to fight tonight. The big argument was coming, so I didn’t want to chum the waters. At least, not yet. I was sure that my thread was about to snap. I guessed we’d see how long this lasted.
“She’s not going to be in a practice. She’s going to be at a major hospital or university. That’s how you get into the best programs. She can’t just be a resident in some old practice.” My mother’s eyes tightened, ever so slightly. “We’ve already discussed this.”
“How about I go get that club soda?” I said, turning on my heel.
“Yes, yes, you know where it is,” my mother said, continuing her argument with my father.
I was exhausted already. I didn’t want to deal with any of this.
By the time I got my drink, we were ready to sit at the dinner table. Mother had had the meal catered as they both worked long hours. I was surprised that we’d even made dinner happen, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I loved my family. They gave me the opportunities to do what I wanted. To have choices. I
