“No, my back is perfectly fine. I feel like I’ve been twenty-five for twenty years.” Mr. Pierce showed obvious discomfort as he walked towards the house.
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Mrs. Pierce put her hand on my arm. “I’m making a Baja Chicken Casserole—it’ll be done in about twenty minutes.”
“I appreciate it, but…” I tried to come up with an excuse, but my problem-solving superpower decided to immediately stop working and blank out my thoughts.
“Yeah, you should stay for dinner.” Holly smiled and nodded. “Mom makes the absolute best casseroles in the world.”
“Okay, I guess I’m staying for dinner.” I shrugged and put my best plastic smile firmly on my lips.
“Awesome, come on back inside.” Mrs. Pierce turned towards the door, but I didn’t follow her immediately.
“You really want me to stay for dinner?” I raised an eyebrow at Holly.
“Why not?” She shrugged. “It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
“I’m going to put a neighborly kiss on those lips.” I pulled Holly away from the closest window to make sure nobody could see us.
This is such a bad idea.
I kissed Holly without worrying about timing the seconds, and we were both gasping by the time our lips broke the seal that formed. She took a step and staggered but regained her composure and grinned before she led me into her house. Once we were inside, her dad offered me a beer, and I accepted
. We sat down in the living room, and the conversation quickly shifted to my profession. Holly had already heard all of that, but she pretended like it was the first time she was hearing that I hoped to have my own practice one day and be a family doctor one day.
I was glad when the conversation finally shifted away from me and onto Holly—but I don’t think she appreciated having that kind of attention. I got the impression that there was a little bit more tension in the household over Holly’s indecisiveness about her major than she originally let on. It looked like I was about to witness my first full-blown Pierce family argument when Holly got annoyed by a couple of snide comments her father made, but we were saved by the casserole timer.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Pierce walked into the living room, motioned for us, and then scurried towards the oven.
“We’ll discuss this some more after dinner.” Mr. Pierce killed the beer in his hand and walked to the fridge to get another one.
“I’m sorry…” I looked at Holly and sighed.
“No, its fine. If you weren’t here, my dad would just keep pushing until one of us lost our temper—even if dinner had to get cold first.” Holly shrugged and walked to the dining room table.
Things seemed to be civil once we sat down and started eating. It was my first time having Baja Chicken Casserole, and Mrs. Pierce’s version of it was certainly delicious. I complimented it, which led to a line-by-line breakdown of every ingredient, how to cook it and how incredibly healthy it was. If she was one of my patients, I would have corrected her on the last part, because there was way too much sodium on my plate to ever call it healthy, but I held my tongue to be polite. Mrs. Pierce asked me the same questions that her husband did or at least ones that were similar enough for Holly to have to sit through it all for the third time. She didn’t seem to mind that much.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Mr. Pierce could wait until dinner was over to continue the conversation about his daughter’s future. His approach lacked all semblance of tact. I could tell that Holly was annoyed—getting close to angry—and Mrs. Pierce didn’t look like she was that thrilled by the direction of the conversation. I started to regret staying for dinner because the family was teetering on the edge—and it was their last night together.
“If you can’t pick a major, then you should probably plan on finding a rich husband.” Mr. Pierce put his fork down. “Find someone like Everette—before they graduate from medical school and have their pick from every eligible woman in Arizona.”
“William Pierce!” Holly’s mother brought her knife down on her plate—hard. “That’s enough. We said we were going to drop it—so drop it.”
“I just want what’s best for her…” He shook his head back and forth.
“Yeah, marrying a guy because he’s rich—that’s what’s best for me.” Holly’s jaw tightened up.
I think she’s about to go off on him…
“Or you could pick a major…” her father exhaled sharply.
“Bill…” Mrs. Pierce’s tone was stern enough for everyone at the table to know she was not happy.
“I’m just going to excuse myself now.” Holly pushed back from the table and stood. “It was nice to meet you, Everette. Maybe I’ll see you again when I come home for Thanksgiving.”
Holly stormed up the stairs, leaving most of her Baja Chicken Casserole on her plate. I wanted to go after her—but that would have looked pretty weird to her parents, so I just sat in my seat like I was a bump on a log—a bump that was casually eating Baja Chicken Casserole, despite the tension in the room. It was pretty clear that Mrs. Pierce was holding whatever was on the tip of her tongue just to avoid verbally snapping her husband in half in front of a guest. Mr. Pierce killed his second beer and went to get another one from the fridge. I really just wanted to go at that point, but my analytical problem-solving brain was trying to solve the wrong problem.
“Maybe I could talk to her…” I looked at Mr. Pierce, and then turned my head towards his wife. “I didn’t always know what I wanted to be when I grew up…”
That’s barely the truth but maybe it’ll work anyway…