Surprise Delivery(10)

It’s a petty little dig I take, but one I enjoy all the same.

“So, Henry, are you seeing anybody new?” our mother interjects, trying to defuse the tension between us.

He finally tears his eyes away from mine, turning to look at her, and gives her a cocky grin.

“I see somebody new almost every night, Mom,” he smirks.

A slight frown pulls the corners of her mouth downward. She’s unconventional in a lot of ways, but she’s also pretty traditional in plenty of others. Our mother is a complex and very nuanced woman – modern, with a touch of the old-fashioned in her.

“Don’t you ever think about settling down, Henry?” she presses. “Starting a family?”

He gives me a look and I grin. It’s one of the few things we can bond over – our shared appalment over our mother’s grandbaby fever. He turns back to her and smiles.

“Sure, I think about it,” he says.

“And?”

He shrugs. “Maybe someday,” he says. “When I get tired of the wanton playboy lifestyle.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes as she shakes her head. “You both are impossible.”

“You raised us to never be too easy, Mom,” I chime in. “So, it’s kind of your fault if you think about it.”

She laughs and shakes her head at me. My mother is an exceptional woman. She’s truly unique and I appreciate her. Probably not as much as I should have when I was younger, but with age and experience comes wisdom and appreciation. As I look back on my life, I can see clearly all she’s done for me and can see how most of the lessons she imparted – though perhaps frustrating at the time – continue to serve me well as I make my way through life.

“Speaking of relationships and settling down,” Henry says and turns to me, “there’s somebody I think you should meet, Duncan.”

I roll my eyes and take another drink of my iced tea. I hate being set up as it is – the idea of being set up by my brother is even less appealing.

“I can already tell you that I’m not interested,” I tell him. “Thanks, though.”

Henry’s jaw clenches and his eyes bore into mine. “Her name is Erica,” he presses on, undaunted. “She’s thirty-two, graduated from Stanford, is brilliant and completely gorgeous. You’re going to love her.”

“I’m sorry, but did somebody put you in charge of my love life?” I ask.

“What love life?”

I give him a sardonic smirk but say nothing. He’s not wrong, I have no love life to speak of. But that’s by design – my design. I hope to meet somebody special one day – somebody who really sparks that fire in me. But I’m going to do it on my own terms, rather than because somebody forced me to.

If Henry is pushing this woman on me, I can already be pretty confident in saying there’s no way in hell we’re going to click. Henry and I have completely different values and priorities – and I know for certain that extends to the women we see. Or don’t see, in my case. If I’m going to date anyone, I’m going to date somebody of my own choosing.

“Look, Duncan, what’s so wrong about trying to set you up with a great girl?” he asks. “I think the world of Erica and –”

“Which pretty much tells me all I need to know,” I cut him off. “Thanks again, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he growls.

“I’m pretty sure you know what that means.”

“Boys,” our mother chides, trying to stop the train before it gets rolling.

“You have an obligation to this family, Duncan,” Henry hisses.

“An obligation?” I question, a wry laugh escaping me.

“Yes, an obligation,” he says. “I’ve seen the kind of women you prefer to date, Duncan. And let me assure you they are not Clyburne quality.”

I scoff at him, unable to believe what I’m hearing fall out of his mouth. “Are you kidding me?” I spit. “Clyburne quality?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Henry,” our mom admonishes him.

“And I suppose the women you date are?” I ask.

He shrugs. “The women I date are beautiful, successful, and driven,” he says. “You prefer women who are like – burned-out Starbucks baristas.”

“You are unbelievable,” I say. “Utterly unbelievable.”

“Somebody has to protect this family’s good name,” he says. “We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, and I suppose banging a different model every night and making a total spectacle of yourself is upholding our family’s good name?”

“At least they’re a higher quality woman than the strays you prefer,” he shoots back.

“Go fuck yourself, Henry.”

“That’s enough!” our mother roars, slapping her palm down on the table.

Our mother isn’t prone to big – let alone violent – outbursts like that, so it immediately draws our attention. We turn and look at her, Henry’s expression of surprise, no doubt mirroring the one on my own.

“Why can’t you two ever seem to get along?” she asks, her voice still heated. “You’re brothers. Why can’t you act like it? You’re brothers, yet you act like complete strangers.”