Page 24 of Brainwashed
The thought ofwivesandkidsdistracts me from that of the message sitting in my voicemail box. It’s been on my mind for three days, since that mysterious call from Manuel Blanco with the job offer that wasn’t really a job offer, since he didn’t tell me anything about it. I woke up the next morning to a voicemail from him with a phone number to call once I’dgiven it some thought.
Givenwhatsome thought, exactly??
I have a life I’ve built here. I can’t just leave it all behind to go to New York on some strange excursion, even if it does revolve around something I’ve wanted to do for as long as I can remember.
But the more I consider it, is therereallyanything holding me back? I don’t have thewifeorkids, as will be pointed out to me over and over tonight, I’m sure, when I show up to my parents’ house without Gabrielle.
They’re strong believers in theimageof family, regardless of whether it’s just an airbrushed fabrication for the sole purpose of fitting into the community. I’ve never cared about it myself. I don’t see the purpose in faking things just to please other people, which is the main point of contention between me and the rest of my family.
I don’t do things because theylook good. And they don’t understand that.
My father, Levi, is a highly respected surgeon, and my mother, Vera, a pediatric oncologist. My father’s father was one of the best surgeons in the country before he retired, and even my uncle Harold is a plastic surgeon who never misses an opportunity to let people know how much money he makes.
I’m the only one who didn’t go into medicine.Well, me and him…
My teeth clench and I grip the steering wheel harder while exiting the freeway.
My family is ridiculous. They act as if treating the human mind rather than body makes me lesser than them. I’ll just say it… People don’t respect psychiatrists as much as they should. We get a bad reputation ascharlatans, which is lunacy, because I’ve met morequackswho work in medicine than those in the behavioral or clinical fields.
ButI’mthe odd man out.
Parking in the driveway of the home I lived in for most of my life, I take a moment to breathe before stepping out of the car with the bottle of wine I brought.
Here, Mom. Let this ninety-dollar bottle of Cab serve as a replacement for the woman you wanted me to marry.
At the front door, I ring the bell and wait. Some people might just walk in… since it was my home once, too. But I don’t. It doesn’t feel like I belong here.
My mother opens the door with her slight twist to the lips that serves as a smile. “Lemuel. So good to see you.” Her eyes dart to my right. Then to my left. And she frowns.
“Mother,” I sigh, walking inside past her.
Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder. It’s the most affectionate touch we subscribe to in the Love family.I know, it’s ironic.“Where is Gabrielle?”
“We ended it,” I tell her while strolling toward the study, where the bar is located.
I can feel her glare on the side of my face, but I refuse to acknowledge it. We reach the bar and I leave the bottle of wine, glancing across the room at the sound of voices.
“Lemuel!” My grandfather, Marvin, stands slowly to greet me.
“Gramp, don’t get up.” I rush to him. He’s getting older, after all.
“Oh, shut up,” he grumbles, and I hold back a grin.
We exchange a handshake with a pat on the back.I told you, that’s all you get here.Then I turn to my father and shake his hand.
“Dad.”
“Good to see you, Lemuel.” He looks me up and down, his eyes landing on my hair as a slight scowl pulls around his mouth.
He’s never been a fan of my dreads.Bonus points in the disappointment category.
“Levi, did you hear this?” My mother comes up to us with wine glasses. “He says he and Gabrielle broke up.”
My jaw clenches as I take the wineglass, making quick work of opening my bottle and pouring some. I take a fast gulp before we even toast to anything.
“Oh. Well, that’s a shame,” my grandfather says as my mother pours them wine.
“More than that,” my father scolds. “You’re not getting any younger, Lemuel. When are you going to make one of theserelationshipsstick?”
