Page 34 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls

‘That’s not true. You know you’re the epitome of what they want in a son,’ I said.

That puffed-up façade of his wavered. ‘I’ve tried. Went to Rice like they expected. Took the banking job they approved of even though I wanted to be a golf pro. I’ve looked after them as best I could, but then… after Mom’s accident…’ A rough breath left his lips. ‘They made it very clear that they needed you more. That my opinions and insight didn’t matter. It’s a good thing you’re back to stay this time. It takes the pressure off me.’

I looked at my hands, unable to meet his steady stare.

‘You are staying, right?’

How could I tell my brother that Africa felt more like home than the place we were raised? That the staff and crew looked out for each other. How a birthday was never forgotten – or, worse, ignored – but met with gifts and a song during the dinner hour. The way the crew hung white twinkle lights around the ship for the winter holidays. Tethered a massive fourteen-foot tree with colorful ornaments on the bow. The only thing my parents ever did was force us into uncomfortable smiles for a Christmas card that masked years of mutual disdain.

I could offer up a dozen excuses, but he’d never understand what it was like to have the unequivocal trust of a patient who needed your help. That during my time in Senegal, I’d triaged debilitating facial tumors, cataracts that had left people blind for years, and other serious medical issues that required the care of the surgeons on board. What I did wasn’t a profession, it was a calling, and no matter how many times I tried to explain it to him or my parents, they never understood.

‘I signed up to do another six months. I leave in early October.’

‘Dammit, Ford. Why do you keep doing this? Are we so bad to be around?’

‘It doesn’t have anything to do with you. I go where my skills are needed.’

‘And you think you can be of more help in Africa than here?’

‘Yes. I’m not only seeing patients, but I’m helping to train future doctors from the country. Those who can stay and help their community.’

He crossed his arms over his chest like he wasn’t convinced.

‘It’s all right, Gray. I’ve had several conversations with Mom’s doctors and physical therapist. She’s made a great recovery.’

He flung his hands out in frustration. ‘See, that’s what I mean. I can’t talk to those people. Understand all the medical jargon. And Dad, well, he does as little as possible to show he’s interested. That he cares.’

‘I understand what you’re saying, but you don’t want me here. I make every interaction uncomfortable. There will never be a time when I say or do the right thing for them. They hold me to a standard that is unachievable and it’s fucking exhausting.’

‘How do you think I feel? Being under constant scrutiny? Never reaching the level of success they expect?’

‘It’s hard, I’d guess.’

‘Damn straight,’ he huffed, shook his head. ‘And this is what you want? What you need to do?’

‘Yes. It’s important to me.’

‘Do they at least appreciate you? Treat you right?’ he said with brotherly concern.

‘They do. In fact, you should come visit me. The people and the city are beautiful. Maybe if you witnessed what I did, you’d have a better understanding of why I’m so committed.’

He stood and stalked to the sliding glass door, looking out to the square. ‘What do you do for excitement around here?’

This was Gray’s go-to move when things got uncomfortable. He reverted to the playboy, fun-all-the-time persona, which got grating.

‘I don’t have much time for fun. If I’m not at the clinic, I’m here eating or sleeping. It’s a pretty mundane life and I enjoy it.’

He glanced at his phone, pushed a couple of buttons and a number appeared in my texts.

‘I saw Missy at the club yesterday. Even though you disappeared from brunch like some kind of jewel thief, she still wants to catch up with you.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘Why not? How long have you been alone? Call her. Have a drink. Maybe a fun weekend in the sheets. You’re leaving again anyway,’ he said, unable to mask the bitterness in his voice. ‘It’s the perfect scenario.’

‘Maybe for you, but I don’t operate that way.’

I stood and moved to the glass door, my attention snagging on the pink awning over Sugar Rush.