Page 17 of The Deviation
“Absolutely, dear.” Mum pulls a crisp, golden potato bake from the oven—another of my favourites—and my stomach turns a somersault. This isn’t just any lunch.
I busy myself with setting the table, and opening the bottle of merlot I brought, pouring generous servings for each of us.
By the time we sit down to lunch, apprehension weighs heavily in the pit of my stomach. The clink and clatter of cutlery is overly loud against the porcelain plates. Though the beef is tender, it takes two tries to get it down. A long sip from my wine glass does little to help, the red liquid flowing bitter across my tongue.
“Thank you for lunch, Mum. It’s delicious, as always.”
She smiles back at me. “You’re welcome, darling.”
“What have you two been up to this week?” I ask, hoping to keep the conversation focused in their direction.
“We went out to dinner with Jeff and Deidre last weekend.” My father’s words kill what’s left of my appetite. I should have asked a different question. “He says you’re doing well at the pharmacy.”
I nod in agreement. “Work is good.”
Dad and my boss have been friends for years. When I finished university, Jeff was happy to take me on at the pharmacy he’s owned for more than a decade. I’ve been working there ever since. Jeff is a good bloke, and the pay is decent. I’ve had no reason to leave.
“Oh, yes,” Mum chimes in. “Whenever we see Jeff, he always talks about what an asset you are. The best employee he’s ever had.”
Smiling stiffly, I shovel a bite of potato bake into my mouth. Dad may have known Jeff the longest, but I spend forty hours a week working for the man. He would never say those words. He’s not that verbose, and I’m not that dedicated. I show up on time. I do my job. I try to be pleasant about it. But I’m in no danger of being named Employee of the Month, even if Jeff believed in such a thing.
“Although, working for Jeff was never supposed to be a permanent thing. I’m sure you’ll be ready to think about buying your own pharmacy soon.” Dad pauses, giving me time to jump in. I don’t. “You don’t want to work for someone else forever.”
“Of course, you don’t,” Mum agrees, “and what an amazing achievement it will be. Your own business.” One hand lifts to her chest as she beams with delight. “We’ll be so proud of you, John. Not surprised, though. You are our precious miracle, you know.”
I do know. All my life I’ve known what a miracle I am. It was the last thing Mum said to me every night growing up, after she tucked me into bed and turned on my galaxy night light. She would kiss me on the forehead, walk to the door, and thenlook back over her shoulder. “Good night, my little miracle,” she would say.
As a kid, it made me feel special, knowing how important I was. They often told me stories of their journey to parenthood. The years of fertility treatments. The prayers they offered up to God. The month in hospital when I threatened to come early. They poured everything they had into me, both emotionally and financially. After I was born, they kept right on pouring, providing every opportunity they could afford, and a few they couldn’t. As I grew, I learned to appreciate the magnitude of what they went through to give me life. The sacrifices they made, and the grief that came with the struggle.
It wasn’t until I was a teenager—with less than stellar report cards and a guitar clutched in my hands—that I learned the truth. After all they’d done, my parents expected a return on their investment.
Turns out, it’s not enough to simplybea miracle. If I want to keep my parent’s love and approval, I have to act like one.
“What do you say, son?” Dad looks at me expectantly. “Owning your own place is the next logical step in your career. Yes?”
I sit rigidly in my chair. My hands ache from the tight grip they have on the cutlery. My gaze darts back and forth between the two of them as they wait for me to give them what they want. That’s what I’m here for, right? This is why they went through hell to have me, so I could make all their dreams come true.
I’ve done my best, truly I have. I got as close to being a doctor as I could manage. When they objected to me ‘living in sin’ with my girlfriend, I married her. Every place I’ve lived has been within a thirty-minute drive of their house. I crushed my passion for music until it fit the ‘hobby’ boundary they deemed acceptable.
On the whole, it’s been a good life. I’ve been reasonably happy. They’ve been reasonably happy with me. Then Ellie left, and everything went to shit. Now, all the neglected parts of me are howling for attention and everything I’ve ever done is still not enough and now they want fucking more.
“I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, or the debt that would come with it.” My tone is firm and even, but every word is compromised by fissures of guilt. “Maybe in a few years.”
Dad sits back in his chair with an exasperated huff.
Mum frowns, seeming baffled by my response. “John, darling, you’re not married anymore. Surely you need something productive to occupy your spare time.”
“I’ve been plenty busy,” I tell them, though I have no idea why I’m bothering to bring this up. Music isn’t considered productive in their eyes. “I went down to Byron Bay with the band recently. We performed at the Autumn Skies Music Festival. That took a lot of preparation.” My parents knew about the festival. I told them before I left. They voiced their disapproval and never mentioned it again. I followed their lead. Until now. “It was a great success,” I press on, my voice tight. “We played for a huge audience.”
Mum gives me a look of commiseration, as if my pride in my accomplishment is misplaced. “But you didn’t play on the big main stage, did you. It was a smaller space, off to the side.”
My gaze narrows. “How do you know which stage we were on?”
“We looked it up,” Dad grumbles. “We wanted to know what kind of mischief you were getting up to down there.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little undignified, John?” Mum asks gently. “Bouncing around the place with your hair flying every which way. What would your customers think if they saw you? And using that name.”
“I like the name Johnny.”