My name is Alana. My Dad calls me Al, which pisses my mother off something fierce. She says it makes me sound like I'm a boy. I'm twenty pounds overweight, according to my doctor. My mother says I'm twenty-five pounds overweight. The whole thing, whether twenty or twenty-five pounds also pisses her off royally.
I'm 20 years old and out of high school for two years. Between my junior and senior year I worked at my Dad's financial brokerage firm. That too pissed her off, not too much...but she wasn't happy about it. She said I wasn't 'preparing for my future', which meant I wasn't working toward what the good doctor wanted me to do with my life.
Guess when it comes right down to it, she's not happy about much. I call her "the good doctor" when I'm talking about her. I don't call her anything when I'm talking to her. She's a surgeon and a pain in the ass. I told Daddy once I thought she chose to be a surgeon so she could slice and dice on people and be in control. He chastised me for the comment, but I could see he had a hard time trying not to laugh.
After graduation I went back to the brokerage firm. The good doctor was riding my ass for the past three years of high school to take the right classes so I could go to medical school. I have as much interest in being a doctor as I do in raising hogs only to send them off to become bacon for someone's breakfast.
Every day Daddy and I ride to work together and home again. I don't see a lot of him during the day. Basically I do data entry crap and try to stay out of people's way. I've lived my whole life like that. Being fat and none to energetic I didn't do much of anything other that go to class and get the hell out of there for twelve years of school.
Once in my junior year a boy asked me on a date. I went because I figured I should have the experience. Later I found out he lost a bet and had to ask me out, and then had to kiss me good night. The boy that was kind of my counter part in my senior year, meaning fat and a social misfit, asked me to the prom. I fought that tooth and nail, but wound up going to shut the good doctor the hell up. That boy kissed me good night. I came in the house and threw up!
About three days of every week the good doctor doesn't come home from the hospital at all. Some nights she showed up somewhere past midnight. In the past two years she was gone more than home. Daddy never complained, at least that I heard.
Daddy had one of the blue tooth things so his phone was a part of his ear almost 24/7. Coming home from the office one night I was day dreaming, when he started talking. I'd always look at him and figure if he was talking to me or to someone in his ear.
This time his jaw set, his knuckles on the steering wheel turned white and his voice was really tense.
"The good doctor isn't coming home is she?"
"No."
"Emergency surgery, complications from the last surgery of the day, has to keep close watch on a particular patient or she has a seven a.m. surgery scheduled so she'll save the hour drive each way. Which is it this time?"
Daddy didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the road and the jaw set with the death grip on the steering wheel.
"Hey, let up on that wheel or it's gonna break in half and we'll end up getting killed."
He did loosen his grip and relaxed his jaw.
"The good doctor is having an affair isn't she?"
"Al!"
"Well. She is, you know it and so do I." I waited but he stayed silent.
Suddenly he took a right turn, way too fast.
"Holy crap Dad, whadda ya doing?"
His entire demeanor changed in a flash. "It's you and me kid. How about the Grub Pub for dinner?"
Well that perked me right up. The Grub Pub was kind of a dive. The good doctor would have sawed off her own legs rather than cross that threshold. They served grilled steak or burgers, fully loaded baked potatoes and the best strawberry short cake you could find in America.
"Yeah! Now you're talking. Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"I just want ta tell ya, if you wanted to get a divorce and you were running down a list of why you shouldn't; like image, your work, and that kinda thing. Well, if I'm on that list, scratch me off. I'd rather you got a divorce and were happy than keep up this sham."
He didn't say anything, but the look on his face spoke volumes. I knew he had been thinking they shouldn't break up because of me.
We were within a block of the Grub Pub so I snapped my seat belt off and threw myself across the console to kiss his cheek, I felt so bad for him.
I'm a little less than graceful so apparently it startled him when I moved so fast cause he turned his head to see what the hell was coming at him. My kiss landed fully on his lips.
He kissed back, I think reflexively. We were both more that surprised at that point.
