One Last Shot

chapter five: lemon zucchini pasta

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Tayla

     Till the moment I left for UCLA, I tried to make sure I was an exceptional daughter for my parents. I think the sole reason I put so much effort into being perfection was because I knew the disappointment my parents felt when there first born happened to be a baby girl. They are one of the most traditional people I know to this day, nothing was informal about them, and that still remains to this day. Anytime I visit them I'm constantly pushed more to be a vision of pure grace by them. They use tough love in order to control me in a small way, nevertheless, I let them. I know the shame it brings them having their first born as a daughter, not a son.

     Lindsey thinks they are insane for it. "What messed up people shame their daughter on something that literally no one can control?" She has vented many of times about it. I can see where she gets this annoyance from, but I don't listen to it too much. My parents do love me. They have sacrificed a great deal to give myself and my brothers a truly blessed lifestyle, and there isn't much I can do to repay them, but I try every chance I can get.

     "Tayla for the tenth time. I know. I know. I'll make sure the flowers are all blue okay?" Matthew's groan fills my ears. It's Tuesday now, and I'm on call for a night shift tonight. Typically I don't really mind night shifts. It's usually slow, the only surgeries are emergencies and I'm mostly just going over paperwork and checking up on patients if we are short staffed with nurses for the night. Which, by no surprise, we usually are. All of them have families and kids to take care of during the night, I for one, only got little old me.

"Matthew you seem to not be understanding me." I grit through my teeth. "The flowers can't be blue, they need to cerulean blue. You know Mom is specific when it comes to these things." I scold him. Poor Matthew is constantly the middle man between myself and my parents. They argue that they are way too busy to be answering all of my calls and messages, but I know for a fact they spend most days playing golf at the country club or lounging by the pool they spent thousands of dollars on. Matthew's schedule is more crammed then theirs, and yet he never fails to drop one of my calls. If he ever manages to, he calls me or texts me back within an hour.

"Jesus christ Tayla. Why isn't Dad doing this crap? It's Mom and his anniversary, he should be the one ordering the flowers not us." He sighs from the other line, his voice filling my car through bluetooth.

"Matthew. I just need you to order them okay? Use my card. Place the order today, make sure they arrive the morning of their anniversary okay? They need to be placed this far ahead of time. I already called them about the note." I hear him grunt as a response. "What time is practice today?" I question him.

     "4:30. I should already be in the car but I-," Another grunt comes out from him and I hear him throwing things across his room in a hurry, "I should already be in the car but I can't find my freaking practice jersey." He finishes his sentence as more noise clatters in the background.

     I sigh and flick my turning signal on to change lanes. I'm meeting Lindsey for dinner before my shift and I myself am also running late. Us Maddens really don't do well with time management. I look at my mirrors and over my shoulder to check for any cars. "Hamper in your closet my young brother." I laugh to myself. Matthew is on the varsity basketball team. His real passion is football but the high school season just ended so he fills his time with basketball.

     He pauses for a moment before I hear his faint footsteps travel across the room. He shuffles some things around before he gives out a small chuckle. "2000 miles away and you know exactly where my shit is. I don't understand how you can do that." He answers with disbelief in his voice.