Page 33 of Giovanni
“It’s more complicated than just taking a gap year,” he continues, his gaze returning to that fixed point behind me. “My dad, he’s been financing my lifestyle—school, this apartment, my car, bills, everything. Like a loan or an investment in my future as a doctor.”
“So, he’s expecting a return on that investment eventually?”
I piece together the unspoken pressure he must be feeling and the complexity of his situation. Will his father stop supporting him if he doesn’t attend medical school? Stop providing for his son because he didn’t follow his plan?
“Exactly,” Giovanni replies, turning to look at me. “He’s always talking about legacy, about continuing the family tradition in medicine. And here I am, passionate about a career that couldn’t be more different.”
He talks about his commitment to bodybuilding, outlining his goals to participate in as many competitions as possible, leading up to his ultimate aim—competing in Mr. Olympia in thefall. His eyes light up with the vision of triumphing in such a prestigious event, a dream close to his heart.
He then shifts to his plans beyond the competition stage, revealing his entrepreneurial spirit of launching his chain of gyms. Possibly starting a line of supplements after deep diving into his study of nutrition and biometrics to understand what works best for the body. It’s all very impressive. He’s passionate as he talks until he directs it back to his family.
I can see the conflict in his eyes—the desire to follow his own path weighed against the guilt of defying family expectations and the fear of losing financial support.
“Have you tried talking to him about how you feel?”
He runs a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his head with a frustrated expression.
“I’ve tried, but it always ends up in arguments. Christmas was a nightmare because my brother was there and joined my dad’s side. Unlike medicine, he doesn’t see fitness and health as a viable career. It’s like he’s got this one-track mind about what success looks like.”
The room grows silent for a moment as we both ponder his predicament.
“Why does your brother being there make it worse?” I adjust my upper body to lay on his chest, putting my hand in the center and resting my chin atop it. “If anything, I’d think he would have chosen your side. Siblings often do.”
He lets out a small, humorless laugh at my comment.
“You’d think that, right? But my brother has always been our family’s golden child. He followed my dad’s path straight into medicine, excelling at it.”
He pauses momentarily, his chest rising and falling under my chin with each breath.
“When he’s around, he reinforces my dad’s expectations. He’s living proof that the path they want for me is the ‘right’ one.And he doesn’t get why I’d choose anything different. They both tell me to grow up.”
I can feel the heaviness in him, the pressure of living in the shadow of a successful older sibling. Family dynamics are an integral part of life. I see it all the time in my court cases. A fleeting thought as to if my little brother feels that way about me. I doubt it. I hear he’s doing just fine in Atlanta from my mother.
“That sounds really tough, being compared like that.”
I raise my chin and move my hand in small circles on his chest to comfort him.
“Yeah, it is. And it’s not that I’m not proud of him or anything. It’s just . . . I want them to see that I can be successful in my own way, doing something I love.”
His eyes roam my face and hair as his lips pull together tightly.
“It’s hard when you feel like you’re not living up to your family’s expectations, especially regarding something as personal as your career choice.”
I understand his struggle. I’ve always had to fight to prove my worth to people. They see a short, curvy woman with darker skin and often jump to all sorts of incorrect assumptions about me. I’ve had to work twice as hard as everyone else to get where I am. He nods, grateful for my understanding.
“Exactly. And I love what I do. Helping people achieve their fitness goals and becoming healthier and happier is rewarding in a way I can’t explain. I just wish my family could see that and be okay with it.”
“You’re a wonderful trainer, very caring and attentive. It’s one of the first attributes about you I noticed. That and your great looks.”
He smiles slightly, my compliment falling short as it doesn’t have the same weight as his family’s expectations.
“What about your mom? What does she think?” I ask, curious about the other influential figure in his life.
My mother has always been proud of me, having been the first to finish high school, college, and law school. When I go back home, she practically throws a party and invites the neighborhood so they can see her ‘successful lawyer daughter.’
“She’s more understanding but not one to go against my dad’s wishes. She’s always been the mediator, trying to smooth things over. But he’s the law of the house, and she acquiesces to him.”
Hearing him talk about traditional roles in marriage leaves me a bit taken aback. The concept of a conventional marriage, with its often-rigid roles, has always been something I’ve struggled to understand, let alone embrace. As an undergrad, my time delving into women’s studies opened my eyes to the many ways traditional structures can be limiting, especially for women.
