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“Maybe if you did come, we could be together for Christmas this year,” Mom suggests. I hate how she sounds a bit defeated mentioning me being home for Christmas. It’s been a while. Alongwhile.
I meet my dad’s eyes and notice immediately the sincerity there. Then the hope in Warren’s. And the subtle sadness in Mom’s. Heavy guilt weighs down my shoulders. I look down at my new necklace and rub the little rose back and forth.
My reservations about visiting home and staying for the holidays have nothing to do with my hometown or the people in it. In fact, the community of Westridge always felt comfortable and safe to me. Unfortunately, putting my schooling and future career on hold for longer than even a day hasn’t been an option for me for years.
Remembering the last time I took a break longer than a singular weekend morning seems impossible.
Maybe I could take my laptop along with me, use the WiFi in town, and keep up with my work. After the first of the year, I’m scheduled to be in Tucson for a residency interview. But that’s not for another four weeks. They’re high on my list of preferred locations, and they’ve reached out several times wanting me to tour and meet with them in person.
Since I graduated in December, and Match Week is in March, I have a very limited amount of time to rank my preferred residency programs. There are a lot to choose from, but they’re not all equally prestigious. It takes a lot of effort to perfect applications and set up and prepare for interviews. I refuse to lose focus now. Not after all I’ve done to set myself up for maximum success.
All of that considered, I certainly never planned on leaving the city to go home for the Holidays. But the look on my family’s faces has me second-guessing that decision.
“You’re tired Sis. I can tell. You’ve worked nonstop for so long. Surely you can hang it up for a little while. They say well-rested people are the most productive,” Warren says. He sips his whiskey and quirks up an eyebrow at me, daring me to challenge him on this. He’s not usually so insistent, normally the easygoing one.
“Pfft. No one said that. You made it up on the spot,” I argue.
“Did not. It’s a scientific fact. Right, Dad?” Dad rolls his eyes at Warren and Mom giggles but he continues anyway. “You’re gonna run yourself ragged and crash and burn one of these days if you don’t let loose. Hell, you can even stay with me at the bunkhouse since you know there isn’t good service at Mom and Dad’s. We have extra bunksandinternet.” He raises his brows to the top of his forehead waiting for my response.
Dad huffs. “You kids and your internet. Need to touch your bare feet to grass instead of burying your face into phone and computer screens all day for fuck’s sake.”
“Wade!” Mom whisper-shouts and smacks him on the arm. We all burst into a fit of giggles.
“Only kidding dear.”
Mom smiles and kisses him on the cheek, unable to hide her amusement. He’s always had a way of pushing her buttons and making her laugh at the same time. And she’s all too happy pretending to get onto him for bad language or whatever grumpy statement escapes his unfiltered mouth. Their fire-and-ice dynamic has always seemed sweet to me.
It’s part of the reason I haven’t had a serious relationship. My parents have set the bar high and I can’t imagine myself settling for anything less than someone who can go toe-to-toe with me and love me more than anything in the whole world at the same time.
I shake my head back and forth to stop myself from thinking too long about that. My career and taking care of my family are more important than any man I’ve dreamed up in my head.
“What is it you need, sweetie? Could we turn the kitchen table into a little office for you?” Mom asks. “Or maybe staying with Warren at the bunkhouse could be fun. They have WiFi like he said, and you could basically have the place to yourself while they work all day. We could visit the Harvest Festival next weekend! Oh, and—”
I cut her off before she gets too carried away.
“Mom. Think about it. What would happen if I missed a call or email from a potential residency program that I’m looking into? What if the applications I still have to submit end up failing to impress because I didn’t take enough time fine-tuning them to their specific needs or standards? I can’t afford to take time off right now.”
“Well… but…” She struggles to come up with a good argument.
I feel like I’ve ruined the whole night of celebration with my reluctance to leave my comfort zone of constant work. Guilt settles in even deeper than before.
“Whatever it is that makes you happy, that’s what we want for you Blythe,” Dad reminds me. It looks like he and Mom are holding hands under the table and his arm flexes when he squeezes tighter. “If the idea of staying in Westridge for a while isn’t that, we still support you. You know how much we love you and how proud of you we are. But we miss you.”
“He’s being too nice. What he really means is that you put too much pressure on yourself.” Warren says with a scowl. “Stop overthinking and spend some time at home with your family. It’s not that hard.”
“Excuse me?” I scoff at his audacity. He has no idea what it’s like to be in my shoes. The plans I have. The goals I’ve made. I refuse to let that all go just for a vacation.
“You heard me. You’re not even thirty for another few years and you’re already close to being burnt out. Don’t deny it. I can tell by the bags under your eyes and the way you slouch when you think no one’s looking.”
Silence falls around us and Mom and Dad avoid eye contact with me. They’re not arguing with him. They believe what he’s saying is true.
I’m normally a chatterbox, but words escape me. I have a rebuttal swirling around in my head, but suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a strong argument. The last thing I want is to make the conversation worse by refusing to see their side of things.
“I appreciate your concerns. The fact is that I’ve chosen this lifestyle and all that it entails. It’s just… I want… Ineedto keep going. I can’t stop now. Not when I’m so close to making sure we’re all taken care of.”
The sentiment slips out before I can stop it. I’ve never admitted to my family that the reason I ever went to medical school or chose to work myself so hard is so that I can help Mom and Dad retire. Help Warren achieve whatever wild dreams he’s stashed away in that head of his. Give us all a better life.
Dad furrows his brows in confusion. Then his expression fades to shame as he realizes what I mean. I was afraid of this.
