Chapter 6
Six missed calls. Six missed calls from my father that I’m terrified to answer.
My father and I never talk on the phone.
Ever. My mother always calls to relay whatever family information I need to be aware of and that’s that.
I haven’t even told them about my new job yet. They wouldn’t care. They never care.
The Ryan family comes from a long line of barristers.
My grandfather was on the Supreme Court for years, earning the Ryans a courtesy title of Lord Ryan.
My father is positioning to take the next open seat, so everything our family does has been calculated and orchestrated my entire life.
Everything I do is judged, right down to the way I wear my hair to the colour of my shoes at a party.
Then, I had the audacity to become a doctor instead of a barrister like my older brother, and that basically secured my label as the permanent black sheep of the family.
It’s ridiculous to think a child who chooses to practice medicine instead of law is a lesser person, but my family sees medicine as a service job and beneath our station.
My older brother, Ronald, always did exactly as he was told.
He went to the right schools, got the perfect grades, dated girls from appropriate families.
He would never admit this but his marriage was practically arranged.
I overheard my father talking to his fiancé’s father at their engagement party and the whole conversation made me sick.
Growing up, we lived in Kensington in a huge mansion with staff as if we were one position away from The Royal Family.
It was ridiculous and I never knew what it was like to be comfortable in my own home.
I was also constantly getting picked at by my mother.
I was too transparent. I had too many feelings, too many expressions.
I did too much sharing. I wasn’t to speak until I was spoken to and I never could get the hang of that.
I’ve always had a voice. I lead my life by my emotions and my opinions.
It’s served me well in the field of medicine, helping me empathise with my patients and pour my passion into doing good work.
I don’t know how I could live any other way.
That is why I went to med school instead of law school.
If there was anything I could do to pull myself away from the cold lifestyle they thrust at me, I was in.
So I received my degree and accepted a job that kept me so busy I couldn’t see straight most days. My work schedule was erratic and I was always on call or in the middle of surgery. It was exhausting, but it helped me escape that life because I wasn’t able to attend society parties and functions.
Eventually my parents stopped forcing me to attend. They even quit requesting my presence at smaller family functions. They knew I hated it all. And I think part of them was relieved when they realised life could go on without me.
The circle my family runs in is full of political, narcissistic, holier-than-thou, rich arseholes.
And up until now, I was all but forgotten.
But, to my family, me being photographed semi-naked with a footballer who has a publicly loose reputation will be as devastating as the divorce of Prince Charles and Princess Diana.
In two words, I’m fucked.