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Zander's parents chatted about what they've been doing for the past few months. They were truly engaging people. His mother had that innate charisma that makes you feel at ease in her presence. His father was a bit more reserved.
I learned that his mother was not a medical doctor; rather, she held a PhD in Psychology. She said that the press liked to put the Dr. in front of her name to save space, which was why people got the wrong impression that she is a medical doctor. She talked about their latest trip to South Africa and how the need for clean water has exponentially increased since the last time they visited a year and a half ago.
They asked about Zander's games and if he was still planning to get into the NFA. His parents weren’t keen on him playing at the professional level. They would rather have him pursue his architecture degree rather than chase a career in the NFA. His father commented, "Son, those football players often have tons of injuries whichcan shorten their careers."
Zander replied, "I know, dad. That's why I want to do this while I'm still young."
"You don't even have to do this." Father and son held each other’s gaze and I sensed that this was a matter of contention between them. His father opened his mouth but stopped after seeing his wife’s stony face.
His mother intervened, "But, we know you love football, son. As much as we want you to do something else,you have to follow your passion."
His mother turned the attention on me, "So whatfield are you studying, Sedona?"
I told her I was finishing up Nursing. She said, "Excellent choice, we need more nurses around."
Zander told them that I was also finishing up a degree in Chemistry. To which his parents smiled and his mother said, “Smart girl.”
She was the first person I met who didn't ask me why I wanted to be a doctor or something else. She just upped herlikeness factor in my scale.
Our food came and the 4 servers who had our orders were so coordinated in their movements that it was so much fun to watch them.
Zander's father had a rack of lamb, Dr. Haven had jumbo shrimp and oysters, Zander had filet mignon, and I had organic half-chicken with vegetables.
The mood around the table was lively and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Not once did Zander's parents check their cellphones. Busy people, such as they were, I thought they'd be on their phones constantly during dinner.
Zander's mother offered me a taste of her dish, Zander said, "No, mom. Sedona's allergic to shrimp."
He asked me, "Babe, you have your Benadryl with you?"
I was facing his mom and I saw her give a quick glance to her husband at Zander's term of endearment. I dabbed the sides of mymouth with a napkin and nodded at Zander.
Zander didn't seem to notice anything. Hecontinued eating his food.
His mother asked, "Were you always allergic to shrimp, Sedona?"
I nodded and proceeded to tell them my allergy story. When I was 3, my dad cooked a shrimp dish and I started getting a severe reaction (hives) all over my body. It was a trip to the ER that cemented the fact that I was allergic to shrimp. My parents tried to have me go to a desensitization clinic but they couldn't stand the fact that I had to be injected multiple times. My parents figured out that Benadryl worked for me so it became both a habit and a must for me tobring it anywhere I go.
Countless times during dinner, Zander held my hand and would pull me closer to him. I felt a bit awkward since it was my first time meeting his parents and I didn't want us to be labeled as ‘horny college students.’
Zander's parents didn't show any outward, facial reactions with Zander's displays of affection.
We had desserts and coffee while discussing the healthcare insurance coverage of the United States, Europe, and Canada. Zander's father was apparently thinking of investing in a healthcare company. The conversation was getting slightly heated because Zander's mom was opposed to the idea because of bureaucratic reasons.
Mr. Zobowski directed his eyes on me and asked, "How about you, Sedona? What do you think? Should I or should I not invest?"
This man, this multimillion dollar man - highly respected in the business, technology, and finance sectors - was asking for my opinion and my thoughts. Somehow, it was a tad unnerving.
"Dad," Zander started, obviously trying todeflect the attention on me.
"It's ok," I assured him.
Zander's mother was now looking atme, expectantly, curiously.
"This is my disclaimer - I am not an investor and I am not impartial to this topic," I began.
His parents laughed.
Zander held my hand.
