Page 13 of Wicked Surrender

Ipaused on the hurried walk to get to my advanced organic chem lab when my phone buzzed. Without looking down, I grabbed it and checked the message that came in, hoping it’d be an email from the bioengineering department. I’d asked about their program, even though I doubted I could change majors. It was just fanciful daydreaming.

It was a text instead.

Dad:Meet me at my office. Promptly at 12:30.

I winced, checking the time. On a normal day, I had to hustle to get from my last class to organic chem. There was just enough time to squeeze that lab in before my next class later on. I hated that this was the only open slot where I could cram organic chem into my day, so he was asking a lot.

No, he’s not even asking.

He demanded. Ordered. Expected.

Never aplease.

I sighed, knowing and hating that I’d just have to be late to my lab.

As I switched direction to get to his office, I wondered what could be so imperative for him to contact me at all. Yesterday, he canceled at the last minute on me. He’d texted me to disregard speaking with him in his office, and I figured that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t like he ever needed me. Or wanted to talk to me. Honestly, I was surprised—again—that he’d try to make time for me in his busy day. As the dean, and a former surgeon, he was an important man in demand. He’d also made it clear that I shouldn’t ever expect differential treatment from him on campus. Kristin used to point out all the examples of nepotism that he showed with Mai when she was a student here. But she stopped bringing it up once she realized how depressing it was.

On the walk to his office, I sighed at the reminder that my dad never showed me differential treatment at home either.

It was always Mai, the good one, the perfect daughter who could do no wrong. And it’d been like that since I was born. When I once watched the video of my first baby steps, it was the saddest demonstration of my parents’ favoritism that I could’ve imagined. They were recording Mai playing on a baby piano, just banging away and not acting like a toddler musical prodigy like they make it sound like in the video. In the background, there I was, taking my first steps.

And then my mom asking my dad, “Wait, has she walked before now?”

They hadn’t even known, or cared, focusing the camera right back on Mai playing on the piano while I toddled around in the background, blurred out and dismissed.

I cringed, trying to stay positive.

It won’t always be like this.

It just feels so depressing because I still live with them.

I couldn’t wait to graduate and move for med school. I didn’t want to go to med school, but I was becoming obsessed with the idea of not living with my parents anymore.

I arrived at the office and his secretary motioned for me to enter. Seeing that he was on the phone, I stayed silent and sat in the chair across from him.

Then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He acknowledged me with a glance, but he didn’t show any sign of getting off the phone. Sure, his time was more valuable than mine. He had bigger things to worry about. But each time I checked the time, I wanted to cringe at how far past 12:30 it was getting. I was already late for my lab, and by the time I could run back there, I’d be grossly late to the point I may as well skip it—which I never did.

Finally, he hung up. “Laura.”

That was it.

No apology to keep me waiting.

No smile.

Nohelloorhow are yousort of indication.

Just my name.

“You are expected to tutor a student.”

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