Travis was a prick.
But he also wasn’t wrong.
At the start of the year, Dan walked into orientation assuming most of his classmates would be there out of a similar sense of crippling guilt and familial obligation.
He’d quickly realized that while plenty of his peers were similar legacies with a practice waiting for them after graduation, he was alone on his island of misguided purpose, without anyone to commiserate over things they’d rather be doing with their lives than what was expected by their parents.
“Oh, fuck off, Travis, no one gives a shit,” Alex said, not even bothering to look at him. Dan felt a pang of gratitude toward his one friend.
“What? Am I saying something untrue?” Travis shot Alex a challenging look.
Travis had painted a target on Dan’s back from day one, looking to carry on the Craige versus Giles family dental feud, which was every bit as boring as it sounded.
Their dads were different sides of the same coin, Dan’s father gaining his fame and glory from his innovations in cavity prevention, Travis’s father accumulating his wealth and power through boutique dental mills that drilled and filled at an alarming rate. Both men were dicks as far as Dan could tell.
“You think your legacy admission to this school is any better than mine?” Dan shot back.
“No, I think my ability to pass classes while being here makes me better than you,” Travis said. He pushed away from the seats, leaving before Dan had a chance to think of a reply. There wasn’t really anything to say to the truth, though.
As if Dan didn’t already feel enough like a piece of shit, he received a text from his mom.
I’m having dinner in the city this week with Dr. Cochran. Will you join us?
Absolutely not. While Dan’s parents had run a thriving practice, his father had also worked with Dr. Cochran to pioneer a new system of cavity detection and prevention that brought cost-effective relief to underdeveloped countries. The breakthrough elevated both intolerable men to celebrity status in the dental community, casting a halo of altruistic perfection around the Craige family practice. A halo Dan knew he had no chance of keeping intact.
Before he could think of the politest way to say Fuck no, another text buzzed through:
I wish you would call me. I miss you.
Guilt almost spurred him into agreeing to dinner, and he realized how na?ve he’d been to think anyone in this place could ever relate to the river of bad blood and unavoidable sense of duty Dan was drowning in, his mother’s well-being officially his responsibility.
But he also knew what dinner would entail: endless praise for his dad’s memory, mind-numbing discussion about the practice, his mom’s heartbreakingly subtle hints at how much she was struggling to manage everything, how scared she was of losing her livelihood, losing the thing her husband had valued above all else.
The weight of it would likely snap his spine. Dan ignored the text.
“Don’t listen to him,” Alex said, zipping up his backpack and pulling Dan out of the sharp memory. “That exam was killer. They should start handing out lube before tests if they’re going to fuck us like that. Travis is probably just jealous.”
Dan snorted. “Jealous? Of what?”
“I don’t know, your good looks and radiant optimism?” Alex said.
“Har har.”
“Listen, I can’t tell you why it makes him feel better to put you down, but it does. Their whole family is like that. Don’t give him the power.”
“Thank you, Oprah. That was beautiful.”
“What do you have next?” Alex asked, breaking the awkward tension.
“Specialty rotation. I’m in oral surgery this week. What about you?”
“I have a free block this afternoon, so I’m heading back to the apartment. Gonna stop at the grocery store first. Anything you can think of that we need?”
“Probably coffee.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no shit. You think I would let us go without coffee? We would die.”
“You’re a domestic angel. Not sure what I did to deserve you,” Dan teased. Alex gave a grunt of dismissal, refusing to take the bait.
“See you at home, dipshit,” he said, striding out of the auditorium.
“Love you too,” Dan yelled over his shoulder, laughing at Alex’s embarrassed flinch and proffered middle finger.
Dan made his way across the building, dragging his feet and dreading the next hour spent “assisting,” which translated to him sitting there while an upperclassman struggled through a procedure and inevitably called in a resident or attending to clean up the mess.