“Come on,” Kline called as he headed for the door, looking over his shoulder as I blew raspberries on my niece’s tiny stomach. “We better get inside so we don’t miss your big television debut.”
Butterflies danced in my stomach at the state of my life. Several months ago, a TV production company had approached me and two other doctors at the head of their departments at St. Luke’s Hospital and done their best to convince us to sign on to be a part of what would be a docuseries with several episodes about each of us. They’d decided to call it The Doctor Is In. I honestly thought they could have taken more creative liberties with the title, but I guessed keeping it professional and to the point wasn’t a bad approach either.
To me, it had sounded like a blast from the beginning. A way to spice up work, a little extra initiative, and maybe something I could show my kids someday—and use as an opening with women in the meantime.
Dr. Scott Shepard, head of the Emergency Department, had the same positive take on the opportunity, but Nick Raines, the newest addition of all of us to St. Luke’s and the head of Neurology, wasn’t so sure. Apparently, he had some ground to make up with his daughter, whom he’d been estranged from for most of her life, but with some pressure from us and the board of directors at the hospital, he’d caved. It’d be good publicity for the hospital as a whole.
If I was being honest, I was more excited about the publicity it’d give me…personally.
Grey’s Anatomy had taught me that the “hot doctor” was a thing.
Telling people you watch Grey’s Anatomy probably isn’t a hot doctor thing, my mind advised.
Julia started to thrash as soon as we stepped inside the door of my childhood home—after a quick detour to shut the door to my car—so I set her down without protest. Sometimes toddlers needed to be free to roam, and, for lack of better words, go apeshit.
“Willy!” my father yelled in greeting, charging toward me and the door and completely boxing Kline out of the way. He grabbed my face between his hands and pretended to kiss the air beside my head. This was new behavior, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. My mom was always reading some article on love, affection, and the effect of said expressions on your kids. This was probably something she’d told him was good for the health of my sex life.
“I’m right here, Dad,” I muttered back, a smile on my face. “You don’t have to yell.”
He ignored me and kept right on booming. “You’re looking long today, son.”
Oh, good. Another odd behavior, but this one wasn’t at all new. The day I saw my dad and he didn’t have a penis joke waiting for me, I’d also be attending his funeral. Dick had purposely named me William so that we’d be forever bonded as father and son with Johnson-themed nicknames.
What? Isn’t that how your parents named you?
Still. Preparedness never softened my reaction. You can’t ever be ready for your parent to open the conversation with the state of your genitals. “Oh Jesus.”
Georgia buried her face in Kline’s chest behind Dick’s back to swallow her amusement. That wasn’t new either. If anyone knew what I was going through, it was her.
As soon as she composed herself and turned around, I gave her the eye. The one that said hey, these are your parents, too. She gave me a look back, but hers conveyed how happy she was to be sharing some of the humiliation.
She’d borne the brunt of it for most of our recent past. First, while I was in medical school and doing my residency, both endeavors that consumed nearly every hour of my days, and then when she got married to a man my parents adored, settled thirty minutes from their house, and then went and had a child.
She can only blame herself, if you ask me. Everyone knows grandchildren are a surefire way to ensure your parents have an all-access pass.
But she’d received more than one shipment of sex toys—even while on her honeymoon—from our mother in her tenure as humiliation buffer, so I guessed it was my turn.
“Come on, come on,” my mom said, shuffling us into the living room. “Your show is about to start, but I have snacks inside!”
“Snacks?” I asked hopefully. I hadn’t had anything to eat since this morning before work, and I was starving. Unfortunately, Kline’s laughter and a few slaps to my shoulder dampened my hope rather quickly.
“What? No snacks?” I asked.
“Oh, there are snacks,” Kline corrected. “Just you wait.”
“Get in here, you three!” Savannah yelled. My sister’s eyes gleamed with the knowledge of things to come.
I glanced at the door, vivid dreams of escape temporarily taking over my vision, but Georgia’s slap to the top of my arm snapped me out of it.
“Come on. Your television debut awaits.”
How weird. Me on television. Talk about a turn of life I didn’t really expect, seeing as I was a doctor.
Officially lured in, I followed my sister and brother-in-law down the hall. Julia shot out of a doorway and tripped me, but I managed both to catch myself before hitting the ground and avoid stepping on her.
“Whoa, JuJu. You almost took your Uncle Will out,” Kline teased with a smile as he scooped her up and into his arms.
“Boom boom, dah-dee,” she answered, and even I laughed.
Boom boom, indeed.
My mom and dad were waiting in the living room when we arrived, but that didn’t last long.
“Shoot, Dick. Come help me. I forgot the champagne out in the garage.”
“Champagne?” I protested. “It’s just a show, Mom.”
She ignored me, and so did my dad. He didn’t hesitate to jump up and follow her down the hall.
Georgia covered Julia’s ears, the constantly moving little girl now on her lap, and said the words we all knew to be true but didn’t want to say. “They’re definitely going to have s-e-x.”
I shrugged in affirmation. I couldn’t think of a time when Dick and Savannah weren’t sneaking off to have sex. And good for them, I guess. I just wished I knew a little less about it.
The smell of food caught my attention, and it didn’t take me long to zero in on its origin—the coffee table.
Ah Jesus.
“Are those vagina-shaped crescent rolls?” I asked, but I knew the answer. Goddammit, my parents are weird.
Kline nodded enthusiastically. “I helped shape them.”
“And those? What are those?”
“Deviled eggs with the tops on and a pickle speared garnish,” Georgia said, her eyes wide and innocent.
“And?”
She huffed and giggled a little. “A fertilized egg, obviously.”
“The Twizzlers?”
“Fallopian tubes.”
“See?” Kline said with a laugh. “I told you there were snacks.”
“Christ.”
Still…I was really hungry. And I do like eating pussy, I reasoned. Grabbing three bread vaginas, I popped the first into my mouth and searched the table for penis-shaped hot dogs. I really needed some protein, even if it was of questionable origin and phallic in shape.
“Ooh, it’s starting! Look, look!” George squealed excitedly. “Turn it up, Kline.”