Page 3 of Call It Unexpected

I chuckled. “Wow, dude. We need to work on your big dog bark.”

Milo looked at me with brown eyes that seemed almost too big for his little Boxer head before turning his nose back to the ground, following whatever new scent caught his shortattention span. For a three-month-old dog, he certainly had some strength. His tail stub wagged furiously as he continued to tug at the end of his leash until I wasn’t sure who was walking whom.

My phone rang. I pressed my lips together at the caller ID and hesitated to hit the talk feature, but it was now or later, and later never boded well for me.

“Hi, Dad. How are you?” I tried to inject enthusiasm into my voice, but it wasn’t like he listened anyway.

“Zach, I’m calling to remind you that you’re expected at dinner tomorrow night.”

Great.

I had a major paper due the following morning and didn’t have time to attend what would end up being a long meal, drawn out by his need to go over the list of my recent accomplishments and failures. The second was always longer than the first.

“The timing is perfect. Judge Gideon VanHeusen and his family, including his daughter, Ella, will be there, and he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

My fingers clenched on the phone. There would be no getting out of this.

“Be sure to make a positive impression. He’s an important man. With his endorsement, you’ll be in front of over a hundred other applicants for an internship next summer clerking for the State Supreme Court. Not to mention, Ella is an appropriate match for you. It wasn’t easy putting this dinner together. Your mother is having it catered by Gibbons.”

So much for small talk. Knowing he couldn’t see me, I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Gibbons was one of the fanciest restaurants in town, but my mother would take credit for the meal as if she’d prepared it herself.

I braced myself because anything short of one hundred percent compliance would not be met with even the minimal amount of grace. “Dad, I—”

“Dinner is at seven. Wear a suit for Pete’s sake, not your usual jeans and T-shirt. Your mother would have a stroke.”

“I have to—”

“Seven o’clock. See you then, son.”

Nice talking to you too, Dad.

I glared at the phone as if it was the device’s fault for not allowing my voice to be heard. I could have had a megaphone, and it wouldn’t have made any difference. I shouldn’t have been surprised; what I wanted was never entertained. Telling Emerson Abbott something he didn’t want to hear was futile unless you wanted to lose your job—or in my case, have my inheritance held over my head.

Dad had one expectation—for me to work by his side. I would be his trophy that proved he was as successful in his family life as he was in his career. It was my hard work, but he would take the credit. After all, in his thinking, how could I have possibly managed without his money, his influence, or his connections?

As a kid, I hadn’t cared. It was easy having my life mapped out for me. But as I grew older, my interests changed. I saw the insane hours he worked. I witnessed multiple arguments between my parents about how my dad was never home and the sneaking around of both of my parents and their countless affairs.

I learned early that life was competitive; nothing but the best would do, whether it was the latest furniture, the most expensive art…or the highest ranked kid. So, that’s what I tried to be, hoping to one day hear that little nugget of praise, of satisfaction. Of love. All while I tried to find myself somewhere in the mix.

By the time I was a sophomore at Edonton, we’d already had several arguments about what I would study. I loved scienceand had thoughts of going to medical or veterinarian school. That would make most parents proud, right? But no. Emerson Abbott wanted me to follow him into law. The compromise? I’d get a dual MD/JD program at Stanford and use my medical knowledge to strengthen their medical malpractice expertise.

Whether by genetics or environment, I’d inherited my father’s competitive nature. I worked hard and strove to be the best at anything I did, hoping it would satisfy him and allow me a measure of freedom. I’d gotten into Edonton on my own merit. I would graduate in a few months at the top of my class. I’d gotten an early decision acceptance into Stanford along with a considerable merit scholarship. But now, Dad was apparently determined to set me up with a coveted clerking internship, seeking to expand his bragging rights about his son.

The Law Firm of Abbott, Barnes, and Jennings only accepted the best graduates, and I had to be better than any of them. My dad built the most prestigious law firm in North Carolina. Hell, it was one of the best east of the Mississippi, maybe even the country.

The Abbott wasn’t at the front of the name because of the alphabet; it was because my father had single-handedly built up his small practice, taking cases that earned him spotlight after spotlight in the media. When he became too sought after, he took on partners.

He worked hard and expected the same from everyone around him, especially me. He would never tolerate my volunteering for anything that wasn’t related to my—that is,his—goals. If he knew I was volunteering to walk dogs, he’d lecture me of how that was for people with nothing better to do.

My little outing today was my secret stress reliever. I spent a couple of hours a week at the nearby animal shelter. It wasn’t a lot, but it was my only break between classes, writing countless papers, and studying for constant tests.

I loved animals, especially dogs. There were no judgmental looks or expectations from them, just pure “I love to be with you” mentality. I’d always wanted a pet, even something as simple as a hamster or an aquarium of colorful fish. But my mother thought any animal was dirty and unnecessary, and my father thought of them as a distraction and waste of time and energy.

“Come on, Milo. I need to get you back to the kennel,” I called as I tucked my phone back into my pocket.

Distracted by the call, I hadn’t noticed the end of the leash was now slack. My heart lurched into overtime when I saw a collarless Milo running as fast as his four legs could go. I ran after him, but despite my size advantage, the odds were in his four-legged favor. I gained on him when he stopped to run in circles, chasing a butterfly, but as soon as I got close, he dashed off again.

At least I’d be able to skip my gym workout today, seeing as I was on the Milo cardio program as he zigged to my zag and outmaneuvered me at every turn. I tried to increase my stride as he rounded a corner and vanished out of sight.

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