You should have received an invitation to your father’s and my anniversary party. We’d love to have our wonderful son there.
Wonderful? My trust radar sends up a red flag. She only uses that word when she wants something. I’m sure my parents really do want me there, but I’d be fooling myself if that was their only reason. I’ve kind of avoided them since the accident because I didn’t feel like hearing the ‘we told you so’ speech.
I sift through the mail on my counter and open the invitation that looks more like a formal corporate invite. An oversized envelope holds a matching card with a full-color portrait of myparents on one side and party details in elegant script on the other. No doubt that cost them a pretty penny.
It’s in a month, which gives me lots of time to agonize over what their true agenda could be. Then, of course, the pang of guilt hits me for thinking about them like that, but history has proven my gut reaction to be accurate, more often than not. Visits to my parents ultimately wind up a cross-examination about my career and life choices.
I type out a reply:
Received. Not sure I can be there. Still recovering from surgery and doing a lot of physical therapy, so I can get back to work.
The three dots appear, then finally:
Please come. Your father and I haven’t seen you in months. And this means so much to us. You coming would be the best gift of all.
My mother has always had a way with words. Part of what makes her a successful lawyer. She’s eloquent, charismatic, and very determined. If I don’t say yes, she’ll text me a continuous stream of reasons I should come. And I still have enough of the dutiful son left in me to acquiesce because, as little as we have in common, they are still my parents.
I know she’s staring at her phone, waiting for my reply. Might as well do it now and get it over with.
Then I will do my best to be there.
Not quite a ‘yes, I’ll be there,’ but that’s as close as I come right now.
She sends a reply:
?? Wonderful! We’ll see you there. Feel free to bring a date.
I sigh and put my phone face down on the counter. I’ve lived with the reality that they wish they had a son who would one day take over their practice and follow in their footsteps—something I tried to be, for them primarily, but failed miserably. I just couldn’t make myself fit into that world and nearly lost myself trying.
A knock comes on the door. I told Hannah I would leave it unlocked so she could just walk in, but she’s bent over a folded playpen she’s fighting to drag in.
I drop the invitation on the counter and rush over to help her. For a small playpen, the thing seems heavier than normal. Then I spot the reason. She stuck a large bag of kibble into one side and a pallet of canned food on the other.
Once we get the monstrosity of netting and food inside, I close the door. “More dog food?”
She pushes an errant curl out of her face and smiles. “Yeah, some specialized food to help put some weight back on him. Liam recommended it.”
I was concerned that moment between us would make things awkward, but so far, Hannah seems like herself. Maybe I was more affected than she was.
As she lifts one of the bags, I take it from her. At this rate, I’ll have more dog food filling my pantry than people food.
“How’d it go?” I can’t get a good read on her emotions because she’s avoiding my gaze.
“Liam has most of the landscaping mess cleaned up and a painter on call to come later today.”
“Wow, he’s really getting it done.”
“That’s my brother.” She hands me the last pallet of canned food, which I add to the stack on the shelf.
“And how are you?” I search her face for clues because I’m pretty sure she won’t tell me what she’s actually feeling.
“I’m fine…I guess.” She turns around and heads toward Bandit’s temporary playpen. “Wow, this is totally awesome!” She flashes a wide grin my way that reaches a sun-deprived crevice in my soul. “Reminds me of the forts my brother and I would build in the living room.
I can picture a young Hannah jumping up and down with excitement over a newly built fort. “Bet your mother loved that.”
“Oh, she did, actually. She would provide the blankets and the snacks. As long as we agreed to clean everything up when we were done.”
“Impressive.”
