I wouldn’t say my parents are bad people, because they’re not. They come from money but they’ve always made sure to share that wealth with people. They donate and volunteer and, overall, they’re good people.
Are they goodparents? Not so much.
They’ve always been checked out when it comes to me and my life. The only reason I have this suit and tie is because if I didn’t wear it, they’d berate me about making sure I had the right clothes for the right occasion. They like things to be a certain way so I’ve learned to just do it their way to avoid arguments.
They always wanted me to follow their steps and become a lawyer. My father, for the longest time, held onto the dream that someday I would become a judge, maybe even sit on the Supreme Court.
I disappointed them greatly when I pursued my dream of being an artist instead. It took every bit of willpower I had to switch majors. I was so worried they’d take away my trust fund or disown me or something. We fought but after talking everything out, they relented and allowed me to follow my dreams.
Okay, so maybe they’re not terrible parents. I could have gotten off a lot worse. I just wish… I wish they were a little more loving or a little more interested in knowingme.
I want them to know more than the surface things we share. I want them to know me, all of me.
“What sort of mural?”
“It’s kind of silly,” I say with a shrug. “He wants me to paint a replica of a video game he helped design. He’s a streamer so this will be the background of his camera shot when he streams.”
“A streamer? What’s that, dear?”
“They stream themselves online, like a video. They have a chat they can talk to and sometimes they play video games at the same time.”
“Huh,” Father says, “why don’t people just play the game themselves.”
“Why do people watch football or baseball instead of just playing it themselves?”
My father thinks about it for a moment before nodding. “I haven’t thought of it that way.”
This is the most the three of us have talked about my life in a long time. It feels nice. Too bad the waiter interrupts us and things go back to my father talking about what’s going on with work and my mother fills me in on her book club. I sit back and listen, not needing to say much for the conversation to keep going.
When we get our food, I dig in, happy to have such a good meal. My father ordered me the surf and turf with garlic green beans on the side. Of course, Mother waits to ask me a question until my mouth is completely full.
“Darling, isn’t it time you started thinking about finding yourself a mate?”
The steak I take a bite from sucks down my throat as I gasp with surprise. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Grabbing my drink, I try to take a sip but the scotch burns as it goes down, not helping the situation. I know my face must be bright red as I do my best to properly swallow.
“Come now, that’s no way to react to a simple question, Duncan.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I say quickly, picking up the napkin from my lap and using it to cover my mouth as I do my best to compose myself. Jesus fucking Christ, my mother always has the most rotten timing when it comes to these things.
She stares at me, waiting for me to answer. Right, because choking isn’t a good enough reason to get out of the question.
“I umm, I haven’t really thought about it,” I say which is the biggest lie I’ve ever told. OfcourseI’ve thought about mating but thinking about something isn’t going to make it happen.
In order to find a mate, one must actually leave their house andsocialize. Nothing sounds worse in my humble opinion. Why go outside when all my paints and projects are inside? Why socialize when I’m so incredibly bad at it? The last thing I need is to embarrass myself.
“Duncan,” my mother says, “you should be thinking about these things. Nothing would make me happier than to hear I’m going to be a grandmother.”
My father nudges her, giving her a soft smile. “You’re far too young to be a grandmother.”
“Oh, you,” she says back.
They might be disinterested parents but I’ve always seen the love they have for each other. I don’t want what they have but I would like something similar. They make each other happy and I hope someday I’ll have that too. Someone to cheer me on and to share life with me.
My mother turns back towards me. “I have a friend who has a friend whose child was invited to a ball. Maybe I’ll look into that for you, Duncan. It would be a great way for you to meet new people.”
“I’m umm, I think I’m good, Mother. Thank you for thinking of me though.”
