Meet the Parents
Emalee and I spent the next forty minutes in the living room chatting with the TV on in the background. I had been a little worried about Rusty warming up to me. In all the movies and TV shows, the animals could sense something different about people. Maybe he could, maybe not, but he didn’t seem to care. He had plopped down on the couch between us and enjoyed an assault of scratches from both sides.
“Sooo, tell me more about this treatment!”
“Well, what more would you like to know?” I said, flipping through the channels.
“Everything!”
“Gotta wait for mom and dad!” I replied.
“Ugh. Fine!” She sighed but ultimately conceded the point, but that didn’t mean she was satisfied.
“So, how’s Thomas?” she asked coyly.
“Thomas?” I gave her a critical look.
“Or Tom? You know, your only friend.” Her words had an attempt at bite, but she couldn’t entirely hide the blush in her cheeks.
“How do you even know Tom?” I asked.
“Oh, you know… I think he was tagged on your Facebook,” she muttered.
“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Let’s just watch TV.” She quickly turned her attention back to the screen.
“Right. Let’s do that.” I was all too happy to let that subject die.
Even then she couldn’t sit still. We talked a bit about school. Emalee was already well into the application processes for much bigger, more prestigious schools than the community college I was attending. She wanted to know what life was like at college, about classes, how was it living on my own.
I toned down all Tom’s shenanigans in my responses for obvious reasons, but admitted it was much better than life at home. As for classes? Her courses would be far superior to mine in quality, there was no comparison. I told her mine were like high school with less handholding, less teaching in general, and even that was barely true.
Emalee caught me up on life at home. It had been pretty boring. Same old same old. They talked about me only sparingly over dinner. The only exciting thing to happen was when dad had showed up with Rusty one day. Even our mom had been surprised. But Rusty had quickly made himself an essential part of the family. Emalee thought they had gotten him because I wasn’t going to be with the family much more. I agreed, but not out loud.
Then the garage door opened. A noise like a lawnmower and a garbage disposal coming together to create a new line of products resonated through the walls.
“They ever going to replace that thing?” I wondered.
Emalee rolled her eyes in response.
We had spent the last few years being awakened by its operation every morning when dad left for work.
We both got up to meet my parents. They undoubtedly had groceries they would need help with. Rusty followed behind faithfully. We heard our mom come through the entryway first.
“I swear they raise the prices over a dollar per pound this time of year.”
My hearing picked up the conversation as soon as the garage door subsided.
“Emalee!” Her voice called through the house.
Memories of childhood rushed back. Our parents always called for us the same way, whether it was to come and help unload the car or dinner was ready. But my name was absent.
“Ryan!” My mother exclaimed.
Until she saw me, that is.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered sheepishly.
She rushed forward, dropping the bags she was carrying. She hugged me tightly, and to my surprise I choked up a little. My apprehension at a future conversation melted away.
My dad came through the doorway just a moment later and took in everything.
“Well,” He stood in the entryway, arms full, “go make yourself useful,” he said with a nod back towards the garage.
“Bill!” my mom admonished.
“It’s fine,” I replied.
Emalee and I made our way out to the garage. It was technically a two-stall garage, but only one car fit due to Dad’s assorted tools taking up half the space. The floor was covered in oil-soaked sawdust. We stepped carefully to the open trunk of the family station wagon. The garage door was still open and let in a bitter breeze. Emalee shivered and looked to me. I subconsciously rubbed my hands together, cold breath steaming in front of me, even though the cold didn’t bother me.
I carefully snagged as many bags as I could fit in one hand, leaving a smaller share for Emalee to carry. I grabbed the last remaining three with my free hand and closed the open trunk. We made our way back inside.
“Get everything?” Dad stood in the entrance.
I nodded, but he went out to double check anyway.
We dropped our haul off on the sturdy oak dining table in the kitchen. It was an old, scuffed thing, but Mom was still adamant about our use of placemats and coasters to protect it.
We helped unload the plastic bags of their contents. I tried to put some away, but both Emalee and my mom followed me, correcting all my misplaced items. I eventually gave up. The roar of the garage door signaled our father’s return. His silence implied he found our unloading process adequate.
“Not going to help?” He stood in the entryway, observing my mom and sister diligently putting everything away.
“He doesn’t know where anything goes.” My sister came to my defense, sort of.
He grumbled and seated himself across from me at the table. A familiar position. All the previous anxiety at facing this moment returned.
“So, the prodigal son returns.” He didn’t quite glare at me.
“Bill! Our son came home for Thanksgiving. For God’s sake, have some compassion.”
I silently thanked my mother with a small smile.
“Besides, he comes with good news!” My sister beamed looking over the fridge door.
“Is that so?” Dad inquired. “Well, let’s have it then.”
I breathed in deep and exhaled slowly. Even my mother had stopped what she was doing, curiosity on her countenance.
“Well,” I started, “there was a new doctor at the clinic. She…”
“She?” my dad interrupted. “What happened to Dr. Jones?”
“Nothing happened to Dr. Jones,” I stated coldly. I hated when he interrupted me.
“But this, err, procedure, was of a somewhat… experimental nature. And is being run by a different organization. They saw me as a potential candidate, and I agreed to try it out. Since it won’t have any of the side effects of the normal treatments.” There. That should satisfy all parties.
“You’re getting treated?” Mom asked excitedly.
“Was the girl Doctor cute?” Ema butted in. “I bet she was cute. That’s why you said yes.”
“What’s so experimental about this treatment?” Dad asked.
I sat back in my chair. Where to start?
“It supposedly uses a virus as a vector for treating the cancerous tissue. The virus attacks tumors and cancerous cells, but is supposed to leave the healthy tissue alone,” I said.
I had read about this type of treatment on the bus ride in anticipation of having to answer questions. Obviously, whatever Holly had given me wasn’t quite the same, but I figured it was close enough. The best lies are the ones with a kernel of truth.
“Are there any risks?” my mom asked. “Is it… Is it very successful?” She dared to sound hopeful.
“There are some risks. But they do a lot of testing beforehand to make sure the risks are minimal. It seems to be a very promising treatment method,” I answered.
“So, you could get better?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She rushed forward and leaned over the back of the chair to hug me from behind. I smiled.
“When would the treatment start?” my dad asked. “Does it cost anything?”
“Whenever I get back, I suppose. They should have the results of the testing by then,” I answered. “And no, the cost is covered.”
If they didn’t know I had already gone through the treatment then they should have less questions, I reasoned. I could work out exactly what to say over the next month or so.
“You never answered my question,” Emalee said.
“Hmm?” I winked at her.
“I knew it.”
“So, what’s this about replacing me with a dog? What does Rusty have that I don’t?” I said, hoping to deflect any more questions.
The dog looked up from where he was laying in front of his empty food bowl, innocent brown eyes meeting my accusation.
“No! We would never. But we do love him,” Mom answered quickly.
She went over and scooped him some kibble.
“At least he listens,” Dad replied.
“Ha!” I had nothing for that.
“Ok! No more negative talk! This weekend is about family and celebrating things we are thankful for,” Mom said, interrupting our banter. But she did so with a smile.
My mother and sister finished putting away the groceries while I checked my phone at the table. No texts or calls from Holly. But then again, I wouldn’t have any, given I had never exchanged numbers with her. Though, now knowing more about who she really was, she could have access to my number through other means, right? Or maybe through the hospital. If she wanted it, that is. But alas, nothing. I sighed and set the phone down. I couldn’t do anything about it right now. Best to put it out of my mind and enjoy time with family.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I needed something to take my mind off her.
“Of course!” My mother beamed at me, giving me a sinking feeling.
“We need to vacuum and dust the whole house, sweep and mop the floors, and somebody needs to go out back and pick up all the dog poop that someone’s been neglecting,” The last part was said with a glare in my father’s direction.
I sighed and agreed to help, then went up to my room to unpack. Mostly clothes, a few school books I didn’t plan on opening, a laptop, and there, my headphones. I put them on, set the music, and finished tidying up my room. I found the old vacuum and spent the rest of the afternoon working my way through the house. Just like old times.