Page 15 of Wasted
“Oh, you know.” He glanced away again, then set the mug on the coffee table in front of them. “This whole thing with Dad.”
“Are you still doubting if you want to be a neurosurgeon?”
“There’s just so much pressure, you know?” Hank leaned back against the sofa cushion and pushed his fingers through his chin-length blond curls. “I just wish he wouldn’t act like it’s my only option. Like I have to do it.”
Victoria pressed her lips together to hold back her instinctive response. She didn’t want to push or be too insistent and firm. Given what had happened with Spring, Victoria now realized the dangers of pushing so much that she did more damage than good. She would never want to make Hank believe he was of less value if he didn’t fit into their father’s mold. She’d unknowingly made that mistake with Spring and would not repeat it with another sibling.
But Hank had both aptitude and interest in the medical field. His intelligence made him perfectly suited for neurosurgery.
Most importantly, he was the one in whom their father had placed his highest hopes. From the moment he’d given Hank his own name—Henry Abraham Wilson, Jr.—their father had planned Hank’s future as the one who would follow in his footsteps, becoming a premier neurosurgeon. His investment, expectations, and dreams had all been placed on Hank. It would absolutely devastate their father if Hank didn’t follow that plan.
Their mom never would have wanted Hank to disappoint Dad so deeply. It would hurt both men so much, in different ways, damaging their relationship forever and potentially creating a rift in the family. No, Mom would have gently and tenderly guided Hank to do as their father wanted.
Victoria would do the same. She scooted closer to her brother and rested her hand on his knee. “It’s completely normal at your stage of life to have some doubts and even to be afraid you might miss a wonderful opportunity elsewhere if you choose the wrong career.”
Hank gave her a sidelong look. “I’m twenty-one, Vicki. Not eighteen.”
She smiled. “I know. But you’re about to start at Johns-Hopkins in the fall. It’s a big step and a long-term commitment that might seem daunting right now.”
His head turned, his attention aiming toward the brown and black dog on the carpeting. “I think it only feels like that because I don’t really want to do it. I mean, I want to do something…worthwhile with my life. Something important.” He brought his attention back to Victoria. “That’s why I wanted to switch to physiatry after Spring’s injury.” His lips smashed together. “But then Dad shot that down.”
“Oh, sweetie. I know it seems like that. And we both know Dad is not very delicate or tactful with his advice.”
Hank gave a little snort, his mouth angling into a half smile. “Is that what you call it?”
She chuckled. “He really does love you and wants what’s best for you.”
“Which is whatever he wants.”
She paused, thinking a moment before continuing. “In a way, yes, but what he wants is truly what he believes is best for you.”
“What if he doesn’t know what’s best for me?”
A viable possibility. But Victoria kept the thought to herself. In this case, she wasn’t convinced Hank’s sudden change of mind about neurosurgery was a good thing either. “Drink your hot chocolate, and let’s think this through.”
At least that returned the light of a smile to his eyes. “Okay, sis.” He reached for his mug and took another sip of the hot brew.
“You’ve always wanted to be a neurosurgeon since the time you were a child. You played that game where you pretended to perform operations.”
“Lots of kids like that game, Vicki.”
“All right, but when you reached middle school and high school, you were drawn to science and always said you wanted to become a neurosurgeon.”
“Yeah.” His gaze drifted to the wall, as if he was far away, lost in thought. “But what if I only believed that because Dad programmed me to think that way?”
“Hank.” She sent him a skeptical gaze. “Please. You know you weren’t programmed or brainwashed. You can check with Robert, if you don’t believe me.”
“No.” A self-deprecating smile shaped his expression. “Sorry. You’re right. I did want to. But now…I just started to see things differently recently.”
“When Spring had her accident.”
His blue eyes shot to Victoria’s face. “Yeah, exactly.”
“Hank,” Victoria leaned closer and rested her hand on his shoulder, “you are the most compassionate person I know. It’s truly a gift, and you will make a wonderful doctor because you have that empathy and compassion.”
His lips tugged up at one side. “I hear a but coming.”
She smiled. “But that compassion can also sway you to make sudden decisions or perhaps poor decisions that are based on the emotion you feel at the moment.”
