Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa
Chapter One
Darren
My phone ringsthe moment I enter my apartment. My brothers-in-law always joke about my sisters having a Dare-radar. Personally, I think they have hidden cameras right by my door. I just can’t see them. The other theory is that they pay my neighbor across the hall so she can text them every time I leave or when I come back. Either way, one of my sisters is always calling me when I set foot inside my place.
If I ignore them, they call again, and again, and…it’s like a staring game. Who’ll give up first? Will they stop calling, or will I answer.
I shed my jacket, hang it on the rack along with my medical bag, and look at the phone’s screen. It’s Danika. She might be the lesser of the three evils. Still, I need a couple of minutes to change, grab something to drink—my sister’s calls are easier to manage with alcohol—and find a comfortable spot where I can try to relax while they chat nonsense for hours. I slide my finger along the screen, canceling the call and sending her a text.
Dare: Just arrived, give me ten minutes, and I’ll call you back.
Danika: Ten minutes or I’ll call again.
I pinch my lips together and take a deep breath. She can be so infuriating. I go on with my routine. After I shower, pour myself a glass of scotch, and head to the terrace, I call her. It doesn’t surprise me that she answers right away.
“Craig met this cute guy at the gym.” There’s no warning or even a hello.
This is something my family likes to do often. If I was in a support group, I’d introduce myself like, ‘My name is Darren Joseph Russell. Most days, I save lives; during my free time, I fight my overbearing-meddling family.’
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m not interested.”
She mutters something I can’t understand before saying, “You haven’t even heard about him.”
“I don’t need to learn about him,” I say. “The bottom line is that I don’t want you to set me up with anyone.”
“But he sounds like a catch. He’s a doctor just like you.”
“Just like me?” I laugh and take a long gulp of my scotch. “And wait, let me guess. He’s also gay, just like me.”
“Are you mocking me, Dare?” she says, offended.
Is she fucking kidding me? She’s pimping me like a stallion in heat, and when I protest, she acts as if I wronged her.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Somedays, I wonder if you people go around asking random guys if they’re gay and showing them my picture. Do you know what that says? That I’m a loser who can’t get a fucking date.”
“That’s so not true,” she argues.
“Do you guys have fun doing that? Searching for my Mr. Right, because honestly, you’re wasting your time.” And mine, I don’t add.
“It’s not like that,” she says. I’m not sure what she means by it, but she’s dodging my question.
“You guys are scary. I imagine all of you approaching men and asking if they’re looking for a hot doctor? Or do you have an online profile I don’t know about?”
This time, she burst into laughter. “You are funny.”
“I know,” I admit, instead of confronting her because I know they have an online profile. The other day, one of the surgical nurses asked me if he should swipe right. When he showed me my profile, it took all my self-control not to go and kill my sisters.
“And please don’t add funny to the fake online profile you have for me.”
She clears her throat. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Listen, it’s just something casual. Dinner among friends.”
“Friends? Is this a setup, or did you invite several candidates? Will you have them all lined up when I arrive and introduce them to me? I could bring some roses. Set up different tiers, or is it called stages? I don’t care. We’ll say that I’ll have drinks with all of them to get to know them. Only a few will get to the next round, dinner. During dessert, I’ll offer a final rose to the one I want to fuck for the night.”
She can’t stop laughing. I hear Craig on the other side saying, “Are you okay? Drink some water, Dani.”
“You need to stop watching reality TV,” she says once she sobers up.
“Do I?” I ask, heading back to the library where I have the bottle of scotch and pouring myself some more. If this continues, I might end up drunk. “I only watch that show when I visit Mom. She’s enamored with it. The other day she threatened to send my profile to the producers to see if they could get me a husband.”
“I’ve heard that before.” She can’t stop laughing.
“It’s not funny, and maybe it’s time for you, your sisters, and your mother to stop.”
“They’re your sisters too.”
“Sadly, there’s nothing I can do to fix that. If I could, I would disown all of you,” I joke.
“Why are you so…”
“Please, finish that sentence. I can’t wait to hear what you think about me because I disagree with having you set me up.”
“We just worry about you.” She sighs. “You’re caring, charitable, and one of the best neurosurgeons in the country—”
“The world,” I interrupt her. “You forgot to mention hot and funny. What does Mom call me? The McDreamy of the real world?”
“You’re all that, but unfortunately, you’re not humble.”
“Hey, I thought we were making a list of how amazing I am.”
“You are an amazing person. We’re trying to fix the parts you like to ignore, though. If only you could—”
“Sometimes, just sometimes, I forget that you, your sisters, and your mother can’t understand the meaning of boundaries. Then one of you calls me to remind me that you don’t respect me.”
“How many times do I have to remind you that they are your sisters and your mother too?”
“Please, don’t bring up the painful truth,” I tease her.
“So, about this Friday?”
“Listen, your invitation is tempting because you and your husband always cater the best food in San Francisco and pretend you cook. However, I’m going to say no.”
“You can’t keep living the way you do.”
“I. Can.”—I pause, taking a deep breath, so it sinks into her selective brain—“And. I. Will.”
“When was the last time you went out with someone?”
“I went out last weekend,” I say. “I don’t need a steady relationship to have fun. You’re missing a lot by being married to just one man. There are so many to choose from. Why be with only one.”
“Don’t you feel lonely?”
This might be the biggest problem my family has or the reason they don’t understand me. They all believe that having a relationship guarantees that one won’t be alone. So many married people feel lonely as fuck.
“No. I feel annoyed.” Then as an afterthought, I add, “I’m happy.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because your concept of happiness is pretty cookie-cutter. I don’t have to be in a committed relationship. If only you could understand that, we wouldn’t have to be dealing with these pathetic conversations.”
“Who are you calling pathetic?”
You. Me. The situation. I don’t answer.
“Listen, I appreciate that you worry about me, but I’m going to pass.”
“You always pass. What if you’re wasting the chance of a lifetime because you’re stubborn?”
“Now you’re playing it a little too thick. I already had the chance. It was fun while it lasted. Now, I get to do something different. Can you understand that? It’s not difficult.”
“It can happen more than once, you know?”
“Even so, I’m not interested. Why can’t you let me live with my choices?”
“I just worry about you?”
“Please, don’t. I’m a grown man who knows how to do this thing called living.”
“But do you?”
I laugh. “Your time is up, Danika. Why don’t you go and check on your children? They need more attention than I do.”
“I…sometimes I feel like you’re in denial.”
“I have work to do, Dani. Let’s talk later, okay?” I don’t wait for her to say another word. I hang up.
I could say the problem with my family is that they don’t understand that happiness is like a fingerprint. What looks like the most joyful moment in a person’s life might not be the same for the one right beside them. For years, I’ve been trying to explain to them that I’m perfectly fine. I have everything I want in life.
Many might find it endearing that they keep finding me great guys to date.
I don’t like it.
It’s intrusive.
I can do it myself.
I go out as often as my schedule allows. My family has to let this go. Mom is the instigator, though. I can’t understand why she’s so insistent on getting me a husband. My sisters are married. She has grandchildren. Not everyone has to be married, and having children is overrated.
There are days when they make me want to leave San Francisco again. There are plenty of hospitals in the country and the world who’d like to have me. But can I just pack up and leave because they can’t let the past go?
