Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
My mum shuts her eyes for a second, then two. “I’m so sorry.”
I shift my chair round so I’m next to her and I put my arms around her. I expected to have to shoulder her disappointment, not her guilt. “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to feel bad about. It’s not like you actively pushed any of us into being doctors. And becoming a gastroenterologist isn’t the worst thing I ever did.”
“Stamping on Dax’s Transformer and lying about it doesn’t count.” We laugh and she leans her head on my shoulder. “All I’ve ever wanted for you boys is for you to be happy and to be good people.”
The kitchen door crashes open and Dad stumbles in. “Morning. Where’s Dog?”
“Still sleeping,” Mum says. “Speaking of, what are you doing up so early?”
“Couldn’t bloody sleep. Expecting to be woken up by your bloody nephew at any moment.” He lifts his chin in the direction of the table. “Is that tea hot?”
I stand. “Yeah, I’ll get you a mug.”
“So what’s with this Emily girl. Is she pregnant?” Dad sits down and pushes his bushy white hair back from his face.
“What? No.” I plonk the cup in front of Dad. “And her name is Ellie.”
“Zach’s happy,” Mum replies. “I’m not sure if Ellie instigated the happiness or has appeared because Zach’s happy. But she’s lovely, so it doesn’t matter.”
“That cake certainly was lovely. So what’s this big heart-to-heart about?” He nods at Mum and me sitting side by side. “Have you told her you’re giving up medicine?”
My stomach somersaults and my lungs are punched free of air. “I’m going to kill Nathan.”
“John, how did you know?” Mum asks.
My dad rolls his eyes and takes a sip of tea while we both stare at him, waiting for an answer. “Nathan’s not said anything. I’ve been waiting for you to decide not to be a doctor since you graduated medical school.”
“Dad!” I’m used to his dramatic statements, but this feels more dramatic than usual because it’s true.
He just shrugs and I scan his face, looking for a trace of disappointment or sadness, but he’s just sleepy and grouchy, so there’s nothing new there.
“Have you really, John?” my mother asks.
“We both knew his heart wasn’t in it. We used to talk about it. You were all for banning him from going to Oxford if you remember. But then you came back from visiting and you said that if being there didn’t make him a writer, nothing would.”
“Did I?” she asks.
“Did you?” I echo. How is it my parents have known for longer than me that I should never have become a doctor?
My dad shakes his head. “You only remember the bad things you’ve done. If it casts you in a positive light, your memory is terrible.”
“It’s a mother’s curse,” she says on a sigh.
“I said to you, he needs to discover what he wants on his own, without any intervention from us. We would have supported you, whatever you wanted. What we know outside of medicine isn’t worth knowing, but it was your life. It was up to you.” He takes a sip and I wait for him to finish. “You chose medicine. I never thought it quite fit you, but that was up to you to find out.”
He seems calm—like he’s unconcerned whether his sons follow in his footsteps. But other than Nathan, we all did. It’s easy to be relaxed when you don’t have to face the reality.
I’m going to rip the plaster off.
“Dad, I’m giving up the private practice. I wrote a book and it’s going to be published.”
“What kind of book?” he asks, without missing a beat.
“A mystery. A cozy mystery. Set in a hospital.”
“Sounds good. So you’re giving up your practice entirely? Or just the private stuff?”
He still sounds so calm.
“Staying three days a week at the hospital.” I’m exasperated. “Aren’t you angry?”
He grimaces. “Why would I be angry? It’s your life. But if you’re not enjoying it anymore, I’m not sure why you wouldn’t give it all up.”
“I thought you liked having your sons follow in your footsteps,” I say.
“It certainly makes things easier because we talk the same language, but it’s your life.” He glances at Mum. “Honestly, Carole—anyone would think we shunned Nathan because he dropped out of medical school. We never made any demands of you boys in terms of what you wanted to do with your lives.”
“I’ve just said the same thing,” Mum says. “But Zach obviously feels pressure, even if we didn’t purposely apply it. They all probably do to some extent.”
“You’re Carole and John Cove,” I say. “You’re inspirational to so many people, including your sons. It’s no wonder we wanted to emulate that.”
Dad pats my knee. “We’re there cheering you on, from the sidelines, whichever path you choose. You never need to worry about that. So what’s this book all about. Can I read it?”