He looked out over the city as he listened to his sister talk about her day; being a member of a tenured hospital did not sound like fun to him. And yet, while she complained, he knew she loved her job.
"Hey, Lee?" he asked, fishing around in his pocket for a book of matches so he could light the cigarette he had been rolling between his fingers.
She immediately stopped ranting when he spoke up. He hadn't even had time to strike a match. "Yeah?"
"Why are we like this?"
"What do you mean?" she replied.
He paused and lit his cigarette. After taking a long, slow drag, he said, "I mean, me, alone, miserable, but revered among fiction writers and clearly loving that. And, you, alone, saying you're miserable, but secretly loving terrorising your students. And---"
"I'm not terrorising my students!" she yelped.
He smiled and flicked his ashes into the glass dish he kept on the balcony of his penthouse apartment. "Yeah, I bet."
"You're miserable?" she asked, not refuting his refutation. "Why?"
"I don't know. Life's boring?"
"You're sober, though."
"Like I said."
She sighed. "Seth..."
"Life was still boring back in the good ol' days," he admitted. "But, at least I was stoned for most of it."
"You sound like Dad."
"And you sound like Mom." He paused, reflected, and then added, "And Dad."
"Maybe that's our problem."
He snorted. "Maybe."
His sister's words hung around his head. Was that their problem? They were too much like their parents? Sure, he could attribute his addictive personality to his father---but what else of his belonged to his father, or to his mother?
Tunnel-vision when a project was in its most crucial stages.
Avoidance of easy---or forced---work.
Sarcasm as a protective shield.
Lack of recognition of the more positive range of emotions---or the lack of seeking them, at times.
Stubbornness.
Love for many people.
Denial of that love.
Choice of the more difficult---and often unbelievable---road.
And so on.
"Maybe," he repeated quietly. "Maybe that's it. Maybe we're doomed to follow in their footsteps. Maybe we're just..."
"Them."
He smiled a little. "Isn't that how the saying goes? It's inevitable that we will become our parents?"
"I avoid sayings."
"Sure you do. You just don't like thinking any of your problems are average."
"Neither do you," she shot back.
He smirked. Touché---but he'd never admit it. He inhaled off of his cigarette again and said, "I've gotta go take Doc out."
"Liar."
He was lying---but, again, he'd never admit it. He didn't feel bad about using his dog as an excuse to get off the phone; Doc would never know. "Leah, he's standing out here with me, crossing his legs almost."
"Sure, sure," she said, giving in. "Avoid having a serious conversation---after you start it."
"I'll have you know, I'm doing no such thing."
"Whatever." She snorted and then added, "Hey, Seth... happy birthday."
He smiled. "You, too, Leah."
After hanging the phone up, he clipped it to his belt and stared at the horizon; the sun was setting behind the city's skyscrapers. Traffic, and the occasional loud television from his building, composed the soundtrack for the sunset.
He smiled and thought about his latest project. His editor wanted the first draft in two years---a year and eight months ago.
Instead of moving to his laptop, he went inside and made a beeline for his piano.
&&&&
Part Two - Leah, aged 41
"What do you think?"
She shot an angry look at her therapist. He always asked questions like that; part of her expected more from such a renouned psychiatrist. She was paying him hundred of dollars more than she thought he should be paid; she expected results.
Maybe she was just too much of a headcase.
"Well, Leah," the bearded man said. "What do you think?" he repeated. "Do you think you and your brother are your parents?"
"There are similarities..." she hedged.
"Does that bother you?"
You bother me, was what she wanted to say, but she only thought the response. Then, she wondered why she thought going to therapy was a good idea. She didn't feel like she was getting any better. And yet, she kept returning to that doctor, in hopes of some sort of clarity.
"Why should it bother me?" she asked.
"I don't know," the doctor said. He brushed a hand over his bald head, and then returned to scribbling something in her casefile. "Why don't you tell me?"
She sighed. How many more sessions like this could she handle?
"Look," she said, reaching for her purse. "I'm not entirely sure I can do this again. I say something, you ask a leading question, I refuse to take the bait, so you repeat said leading question. And then, I get really, really cranky."
Her psychiatrist scribbled something down on her case file. She resisted the urge to snatch her chart up and tear it up.
"And I leave here, knowing I should feel better because I went to a professional for help, but I don't feel better. I don't think I can improve my mood or outlook on life." She shrugged. "And honestly, if coming here is going to turn me into Little Miss Sunshine, I don't... I don't want to be that happy. It's unnatural."
At that, the doctor looked up. "You think happy people are unnatural?"
"I think grinning like an idiot twenty-four seven is," she replied. "And, I don't always need to be happy. I'm glad I'm not always happy." She smirked to herself. "I'm happy that I'm not always happy."
The psychiatrist didn't get her joke, it seemed; she expected that, because her sense of humour was always a little abnormal.
"So, that's it."
She nodded. "That's it."
"You think you're cured?"
"I think that if it isn't broken, I can't fix it." She paused and added, "You can't either. No offense."
"None taken."
They talked a little bit about an upcoming conference---as colleagues, instead of as doctor and patient---and then she left the inner sanctum of the office. The perky receptionist asked her if she'd like to make an appointment.
She replied by asking for her statement of account.
Hours later, from her office, she addressed an envelope to her parents' home. She slipped the statement of account into the white pocket and then added a note on a piece of blue paper.
'Dad, you told Seth you'd pay for his therapy. I assume, since you enjoy tormenting your children equally, that you'd also pay for mine. Love always, Your Favourite Daughter.'
&&&&
Part Three - Seth, aged 4
He always thought his parents weren't like other parents. His clearest memory of this was when he was four, sitting at the table while his father cooked breakfast for them on Father's Day---a day that his father said was for men, and since they were both men, they could do whatever they wanted.
As he put a plate stacked with food down in front of Seth, footsteps came into the room.
"What on earth are you doing in the kitchen?" Seth's mother asked. "Greg! It's a disaster!"
"It's a masterpiece," Seth's dad complained.
When her mother circled the table and saw the food on Seth's plate, she yelped. "Greg! What are you two eating!"
"It's Father's Day," he said in reply. "It's a secret man club, and this is one of our delicacies. I can't tell you what's on that plate---"
Seth grinned and settled into his combination of eggs, sausages, leftover pizza, waffles, syrup and whipped cream.
"Greg! You aren't giving Seth soda for breakfast!"
His father winked at him as he put a glass of fizzing cola in front of him. "Drink up, Seth," he said. "It'll put hair on your chest."
"Cool!"
"Gregory House!" his mother huffed. Seth looked up at his father, eyes wider, half-expecting him to give into his mother. His dad, though, winked again and put his hands on his mother's waist. "Don't you touch me, you lecherous thug! You... Father's Day isn't a hall pass to do whatever you please!"
"I thought it was."
His mother glared at him. "It's not."
"What's the point, then?" he asked. "I thought you'd wake me up in that very special way. Then, after reliving every fantasy I've ever had in my life, you would cook me breakfast... serve me in one of those cute outfits of yours, so I could relive every fantasy all over again."
As his mother rolled her eyes, Seth piped up. "What's a fant'sy?"
"Something your father has a lot of," his mother replied.
"Something wonderful, Seth," his father said. "You hold onto them, and when you're sad, they keep you warm at night. Sometimes, you find a beautiful woman to share them with. Of course, you usually have to give her something so she'll do what you want, but, believe me, Seth, it's worth it."
"Cool. Is Mommy a fant'sy?"
His father smirked. "You bet. The best one of all."
"Your sweet talking will not get you out of trouble, Gregory."
"Say my name again..." he said in a gruff voice. "C'mon, Cuddy-House."
"You do remember my name, right?" she asked, eyebrows lifted so high they were almost in their hairline.
"I like the way that sounds, though. And it's my day." He paused, tilted his head, and said, "Well, our day. Mine and Seth's. For all the men in the world!"
Seth giggled and returned to eating his breakfast. His father kissed his mother's cheek and then hobbled to the stove to put his own plate together.
"Did you want some, darling?"
"No," she replied. "I would like to avoid clogging my arteries---"
"We know doctors. Hell, I'm a doctor. And whoa, whodathunk, you're a doctor, too! We'll unclog our arteries somehow. There's a medical procedure or two for that, right?"
His mother snorted in response. Seth grinned at his father when he sat down at the table. "C'mon, Seth," he said. "Let's do as men do, and pig out!"
"You two need serious help," his mother said after a snort. "And I expect you to clean up this mess when you're through."
"But, it's our special day. That would be going against the rules."
"Since when did you care about rules?"
"Since they give me good things, like a free pass on kitchen clean-up," his father replied after a full fork of waffle, egg, and sausage. He looked down at his plate. "Seth, this is disgustingly good. Compliments to the chefs, for sure."
"Gregory House, you will clean up this kitchen."
"Or what?"
"Or, no fantasies for two months."
The look on Seth's father's face darkened. "You wouldn't... I know for a fact that you enjoy them just as much as I do. You would punish yourself to try to teach me a lesson, wouldn't you?"
"Just clean the kitchen."
"Not my day for dish duty," he said in a singsong voice.
"Greg..."
"Cuddy-House. You're not a man."
"Well spotted."
"You should do the dishes, then. Today is for men!"
Seth giggled and grinned as he watched his parents talk back and forth like that until his mother gave up and stormed out of the room, yelling that she would get back at him when he least expected it.
"Women always do that, Seth," his father told him. "They threaten. Just remember, smart House men always have the upper hand."
"What's that?"
He tapped his head. "Superior intellect."
"Oh." Seth paused. "What's that?"
His father smiled. "You know all that space between your two ears?" Seth nodded in reply, eyes wide as his father spoke. "Well, ours is packed. Jam-packed with stuff that helps us think smarter and faster and better than everyone else."
"I heard that!" his mother hollered from the sitting room.
"You wanna come in here and say that?"
At the silence, Seth's father smiled. "Seth, today's our day. What'll we do next?"
"Clean the kitchen," Seth's mother said from the doorway.
Seth watched as his father left his breakfast, took his cane, and walked over to his mother. "You really don't want to make me do that."
"No?"
Seth didn't hear what his father whispered in his mother's ear. At first, he was angry because they were keeping secrets; then, he realised it didn't really matter. The look on his mother's face was more than enough.
Her eyes widened and she looked at him. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, you know I would. Just to see you squirm."
She blushed. "Greg."
"Wanna clean the kitchen for me?"
Seth's jaw dropped as she nodded and kissed his cheek. "Afterall," she said. "It's your day."
"Precisely."
Seth's clearest thought from that moment was 'my friends' parents don't act like that,' followed by, 'my parents aren't like normal parents.'
Later, when he grew up and realised what a fantasy was, he didn't quite know what to think.
&&&&
Part Four - Seth, aged 6
"You can't!" Leah hissed, eyes wide and sleepy. "Uncle Jimmy's sleeping on the couch downstairs! You'll wake him up!"
Their Uncle Jimmy had been staying with them for a few days; he did that every once and a while. Sometimes, he dropped in without telling Seth's parents anything. His mom really stressed out then. She wouldn't say anything, but Seth knew she wasn't 'just fine' with it. She looked worried.
This time, though, he had called weeks before coming. His parents had been preparing them for a couple of days. 'Now, don't forget... Uncle Jimmy's coming Thursday, so you two have to be on your best behavior' and 'Guys, can you give your father a hand moving the recyclables into the garage?' were common phrases over those two days.
The twins liked Jimmy's visits. He brought fun toys and chocolate and he liked to watch funny movies after delivered food. He and Seth's father would talk for hours and they'd work together to drive Seth's mother crazy.
Overall, these weekends were fun---except when Saturday morning cartoons were compromised.
"Maybe I won't," Seth reasoned. "If I just turn the volume down real low. It's cartoon morning, Lee!"
She sighed. "We shouldn't."
"We?"
"Well," she admitted. "If I like cartoons, too. And if you're going to get to watch them, I should, too."
"That's the spirit," Seth agreed, nodding enthusiastically.
Leah smiled and jumped to her feet. "Let's go, then."
"Let me go down first," he reasoned. "You get excited and make noise."
"I do not!" she huffed.
"You do, too," he replied. He got up to his feet and stretched around a big yawn. "Just stay put. I'm sneakier than you."
She sighed and tapped her foot impatiently. "Go check, then."
Seth nodded and walked out of their bedroom. He stopped in the hallway and listened carefully. All he could hear was his father's light snoring. He stiffled a little grin, knowing it would lead to giggles. Then, he started to walk towards the staircase.
His bare feet made almost no noise on the carpet runner as he crept down the stairs. They made little 'pat' sounds against the hardwood floor when he landed on the first level and walked towards the den.
Before peeking into the room, he held his breath. When he looked inside, he gasped and then exhaled slowly.
Uncle Jimmy wasn't there. The pillows and blankets were still there, folded the way his mother left them.
Seth frowned, clearly confused. Did he leave early, without saying goodbye? Seth was certain he would have said goodbye. Uncle Jimmy was a nice guy.
When he went back upstairs, he still hadn't figured it out.
Leah was waiting, perched on the edge of her bed---the bottom bunk. Her eyes were wide and excited.
"Well?"
Seth shrugged. "Coast's clear. He's not there."
"Did he go?"
"I don't think he would," Seth replied quietly. "But... where did he sleep?"
"Maybe he slept in the fancy room."
"That sofa sucks," Seth pointed out.
"Maybe he likes sucky sofas," Leah suggested.
"Maybe." Having no other viable conclusion, Seth shrugged and said, "Are we gonna go an' watch?"
"Yeah," Leah agreed, nodding.
They crept downstairs, being careful not to make any noise. Within minutes, they were seated inches away from the television, enjoying one of their favourite cartoons.
An hour later, three adults walked downstairs. Seth swivelled his head and saw their feet.
Uncle Jimmy was upstairs? Where did he sleep? He always slept on the sofa!
Seth frowned as he pondered the new development. His father had been sleeping. So they weren't upstairs talking. Besides, he hadn't heard any voices.
His father's laughter---a sound rarely heard, even though Seth was sure his dad was happy---travelled in from the kitchen, accompanied by the laughter of his mother and of Uncle Jimmy.
Seth smiled. They were pretty happy. Maybe he didn't have to worry.
&&&&
Part Five - Leah, aged 10
When she thought back on her childhood, she always remembered playing the piano with her father. Her earliest memory of that was just watching him play; she loved the sounds he illicited from the ivory keys. Later, he started to teach her to play. She liked playing by herself, but she loved it when he would accompany her; playing silly duets like 'Heart and Soul' was always good for a laugh.
They also had important conversations while playing the piano together. She never understood why they could communicate through and in front of that instrument.
One day, she had come home from school and heard her parents having a heated discussion. That wasn't out of the ordinary. Seth sighed, rolled his eyes, and after muttering "There they go again" he disappeared into the den to watch television.
Leah dropped her book bag by the front door and took her shoes off. Her coat was dropped somewhere between the foyer and the living room, in her voyage to the piano.
"Hey, kid," her father said, once she started playing a song he had taught her a few weeks ago.
"Hey, old man," she replied in the same dry tone of voice he used.
"How was school?"
"Boring."
Her father smiled. "Good. Excellent. Keep up the good work," he praised her. She looked at him, surprised at his response, but then returned to playing the song when he put his fingers down upon the lower keys and started playing with her. "See, Lisa?" he called out, while turning his head towards the kitchen. "She likes her class!"
Leah's mother appeared in the doorway. She rested her head upon the doorframe and watched them. Her gaze focused on Leah's dad for a moment, and then she walked inside the room.
When she put her hands on Leah's shoulders, the girl relaxed a bit and smiled. She tipped her head back; her long, dark hair tumbled down her shoulders and back in thick curls that resemebled her mother's.
"Hi, Mom," she said as she kept playing.
Her mother kissed her forehead. "Hey, baby," she murmured. "So, really, how was school?"
"Really, really boring."
"Well," the older woman said as she watched them play piano. "I got a call from your teacher today."
"I didn't do anything bad!" Leah exclaimed.
"If only you had..." her father mused.
"No, I know you didn't," her mother said, while swatting the back of Leah's father's head. "She called to ask if we wanted to put you in the next grade now, instead of next year."
Leah's dad started to talk: "Think about it before---"
"No."
"---answering. Good girl."
"Greg!"
He looked up at Leah's mother. "What? She doesn't want to go!" he exclaimed. "End of story! Point finale. Or whatever."
"Greg... we should talk about it. The three of us."
"We just did."
She sighed. Leah tipped her head back and started focusing on the piano keys again. Her father continued playing, as well. His conversation with her mother didn't seem to impede him.
"Greg."
"Are you trying to say my name as many times as humanly possible?"
She sighed. Leah cringed---she knew that tone too well.
"No, I'm not," Leah's mother said. "I'm just trying to get you to listen to me."
"Another unsuccessful method to add to your list," her father replied. He lifted a hand and reached around Leah's back, to play a few keys in the upper register. Leah grinned and kept playing with him. He nudged her gently, "Okay, let's change songs. Ready?"
"Uh huh."
"No, seriously. Are you ready?"
"Yes!"
"Really ready?"
"YES!"
Her father smirked and said, "One... two... three!"
They changed songs perfectly, seemlessly.
"Greg... come on. We need to talk about this."
"We really don't," he reasoned.
"She should be in a higher grade if she's bored in class," Leah's mother reasoned. "She's a smart girl. She should be---"
"If she's bored, she'll find another way to develop into a brilliant mind," he replied. "It's genetic. She has my brains, Cuddy-House. You have nothing to worry about. Leah here's gonna be fine."
"She might have my brains, you know."
"Oh, god help us," he lamented.
"Hey!" Leah's mother yelped, swatting the back of his head again. "I'm plenty smart. Besides, Leah should be challenged. She should be in the next grade."
"Being bored leads to productivity in other areas," her father countered. "Take me, for instance. I am brilliant---I was brilliant at the age of two. My teachers wanted me to skip a few years. I refused. I turned out way better than my contemporaries, don't you think?"
Leah caught the smile on her mother's lips before it could be tucked away.
Her father smiled and returned to playing on the lower register.
"Why don't we ask your daughter?" Leah said as she tried to reach an octave from her thumb to her pinky finger. "Since the decision affects her life."
"What would you know about---"
"Very wise, our daughter," her father said, cutting her mother off. "I think I'll call you my favourite daughter."
Leah laughed. "I'm your only daughter."
"And therefore, my favourite."
"What do you think about this?" her mother asked.
"I'll do it."
"Oh, good!"
Her father looked at her. "Don't you want to be smarter than the average bear?"
Leah nodded. "Yeah... don't worry, Dad," she said. "I'm going to be bored no matter what grade I'm in."
&&&&
Part Six - Seth, aged 13
When his dad walked into the principal's office, Seth's heart plummetted to the bottom of his feet. He swallowed hard and tried to look apologetic---even though, at thirteen he didn't really understand how to do that and have it look natural.
His dad smiled, ruffled his hair and proceeded into the office.
Ten minutes later, they were driving home.
Even in adulthood, Seth never asked what that conversation had been about.
When they walked through the front door, Seth's mother descended upon them.
"What on earth happened?" she asked.
Seth crumbled under her gaze; his father did not. "Nothing a little elbow grease didn't fix," he said brightly. "Hey, Seth, you want a snack? Gotta feed the machine, you know."
"Greg."
"Is a four-letter word."
She glared at him. He continued to stand strong, walking with his cane towards the kitchen. Seth put his bookbag down, and toed out of his shoes while carefully avoiding his mother's stern glare.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.
"Into the kitchen?"
"Why would you be going in there?"
"To... um... to multitask?"
"What would you be juggling in the kitchen?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Getting a small snack and participating in a discussion on my bad behavior?"
She nodded and pointed him into the other room. He rushed in, to see his father making two sandwiches.
"Seth? You want peanut butter and jam?" he asked, not looking up from spreading jam on one piece of bread.
"Uh... sure. Sounds good."
His father nodded and spread jam on another piece of bread. Seth went to the fridge and took the milk out. He poured two glasses, knowing his father would have some, too, and then he brought the glasses to the island's countertop.
"Thanks," his dad said.
"No problem."
"Do I always have to be the bad guy?" his mother asked, leaning against the counter. "Are you two going to ignore what happened?"
"Seth just brought me a glass of milk," his father replied. "I'm not oblivious to my surroundings."
She sighed. Seth cringed as he hopped up onto the stool at the counter. "Why do you make me the bad guy, House?"
"Why do you wear those cute tops, Cuddy-House?"
"You have got to be kidding me," she said after another sigh.
"You two are such freaks!" Seth exclaimed.
Both adults turned and looked at him, small signs of surprise written on their faces. Seth cringed again.
"Yeah, that's how we ended up together," his father said calmly, smiling at Seth before looking at the other person in the room.
"You wish," Seth's mother retorted on a snort.
Seth's dad grinned and took a bite out of his sandwich.
"Freaks," Seth muttered.
His mother put a hand on his shoulder. "What happened today, Seth?"
"Nothing he couldn't handle."
"Greg, let him answer the question."
Seth sighed and looked at his sandwich. "I just... it was gym class."
"Were you guys boxing?" his mother asked.
He shook his head. "No... I just... I don't fit in. And it's all your fault. Your freakishness is contagious. I'm a big freak! None of the guys like me because I can't play sports... except for lacrosse, but no one plays that! I'm a freak! And they made fun of me. So, I hit one of them."
His mother's hand rubbed slow circles over his back. "Honey, you're not a freak."
"And lacrosse is cool," his father added. "Those guys don't know the meaning of cool, clearly."
"You guys don't get it!" Seth exclaimed. "I knew you wouldn't..." he added quietly, as an afterthought.
"Hey, look," his father offered. "If it turns out that this freakishness you've obtained from us is permanent, you can send me your therapy bills when you've grown up and moved on. I'll pay them for you."
"Greg!" Seth's mother scolded.
He didn't look put-out. "What?"
Seth let them argue for a while; he ate his sandwich and then finished his milk by the time they were escaping the kitchen. His father was chasing his mother, hollering something about his cane being a useful weapon. Seth knew he didn't catch it all, and he was glad he didn't. His parents were weird.
Later that night, Seth visited Leah to ask for her opinion. She smiled and sat next to him on her bed.
"Everyone's a freak in their own way. Bobby, the guy you punched out, loves those wrestling shows. Really freakish," she said. "And, he eats tofu---a clear contradiction. Even weirder."
"He said his mom makes him eat it."
"He lies," Leah said firmly. "I heard from his girlfriend that he's a vegetarian."
"How'd you---"
"We're lab partners."
Seth nodded. That made sense. Girls did talk a lot. "Oh. Okay."
"Besides, everybody lies, don't they?"
"So, you think Dad was lying about paying for my therapy when I'm older?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. He might claim that he was in a drug induced haze."
"He'll never pay for my bills, then," Seth pointed out glumly.
"Dad never needed therapy. Mom didn't either," she reminded him. "What makes you think we will?"
Seth sighed and shrugged in response, unsure of what to say.
&&&&
Part Seven - Leah, aged 16
Graduation from high school was bittersweet for Leah. She graduated at the top of her class at a prestigious private academy; on the other hand, she graduated two years early, without many real friends, without having experienced her first illicit, drunken party or her first, clumsy kiss.
Her parents were seated near the front: her mother, with a video camera and a huge smile; her father, with a smug smirk that said 'she's my offspring and look how great she is'; her brother, with an expression somewhere between worry, boredom, and insecurity; and her Uncle Jimmy, with his goofy, yet warm, grin and her father's digital camera.
After the ceremony, Uncle Jimmy insisted on pictures of her, alone and with her immediate family. Her mother insisted on getting one of Leah and her uncle. Leah, sensing Seth's insecurities from having his twin sister graduate two years before he would, insisted on a picture of just the two of them. She wanted him to feel included; he was her best friend, one of the few people she could trust, and she wanted him to know how much she wanted him there with her.
Once the photo session was over, they all went home to celebrate. Celebration meant Vicodin for dad, scotch for mom and uncle, and two very small flutes of champagne for twins. Then, celebration morphed into the biggest Thai take out order Leah had ever envisioned, followed by a few of Leah's favourite movies---except for one, which she chose because her brother really liked it.
Her grandparents---both sets---called to congratulate her. She went into the kitchen to take those calls, leaving the rest of the family in the den.
When she came out, Uncle Jimmy was sitting on the couch, tucking his phone back into his bag.
"Where'd everyone go?"
"Seth's phone rang---I think he might have a girlfriend."
"Mom?"
"Patient."
She knew her mother was on-call. She guessed someone was having a slight emergency, and she was either talking to the hospital or to a pharmacy.
"Well, Dad's not dealing with a patient," she said, smiling a little.
Uncle Jimmy returned that smile. "No, definitely not."
"Outside smoking a cigar?"
"A celebratory cigar," he replied, smiling. "I bought him one for your graduation. Since your mom vacated the premises, he decided to sneak out and have it."
"My lips are sealed," Leah said, smiling back at him.
His smile stretched for a moment, and then it faded away into a pleasant expression. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
Leah shrugged. No one asked her that before the ceremony, or after it---so she never had to contemplate an answer. She felt her eyebrows furrow.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you scared? Excited?" he asked. "Graduation for me was bittersweet. I think your mother was probably excited. And your dad, most likely, was relieved to be done with the monotony of a grade-school education." He paused, and then asked, "How did graduating make you feel?"
"Promise not to tell my parents?"
He nodded.
She sucked in a sharp breath. "Scared," she admitted. "I don't think I'm ready for university."
"And yet, you're going on a full-paid scholarship. Double degree. That's a big deal."
Leah nodded a little. "Yeah... I know. I just... there are lots of things I didn't get to do, you know?" When she saw Uncle Jimmy nod, she continued. "Dances, parties... I don't even have my driver's permit yet."
"You'll have time to do that this summer."
"I know... but it's not... it's not normal."
He smiled. "Is anything about this household normal?"
Leah snorted. "No. Dad would be offended if it was."
"Most likely," Uncle Jimmy conceded. When Leah smiled, he smiled back and added: "You're only going to be thirty minutes from me. I'm not going to be an overprotective extension of your parents, but if you need anything, you'll be able to get a hold of me."
He was always like that---always there in case anyone needed him. Normally, she found it odd. In that instant, she found it comforting.
She heard her father's cane pushing the patio door open, and soon after, she heard his three-legged gait upon the hardwood and tile floors.
"This is not a party," her father said upon entering the den. "Where'd everyone go?"
"Girlfriend, patient," Uncle Jimmy said in explanation.
"Please tell me it's my wife who has the girlfriend and it's my son who's treating patients."
Leah tosses a throw pillow at her father. "Daaaaaad! That's so gross."
"Hardly. I know, you're young and you haven't seen much... but watching two girls make out---"
"She's not twisted like you," Uncle Jimmy pointed out.
Her father made a fist, extended his index finger and pinky finger out, and then put his hand to the side of his head. Into this imaginary phone, he said, "Hello pot, why this is the kettle calling. We have the results of your pigmentation test. It turns out, you're black."
Leah made a note: Uncle Jimmy blushed.
Then, he said, "It's a guy thing, Lee."
"Yeah," Leah replied with a nod. "I guessed that. Plus, guys in my class watch porn on their iPods. Girl on girl is a major theme of their afternoon delights."
"School sure has changed since the good ol' days," Uncle Jimmy muttered.
"Yeah," Leah's father replied. "Like, for the better."
"What's changed for the better?" Leah's mother asked as she came back into the room. She was wearing her glasses---a sign that she had been at her computer, probably looking up a patient's file.
"Hey, how's your lady friend?"
"Greg, what are you talking---"
"Never ask that question," Jimmy said under his breath.
Leah snorted. Sure enough, her father had gone off on a snarky rant about girl-on-girl and how he wished he could have been there to see it, and then it rapidly morphed into a rant about many other subjects.
"I see your point," she said to her uncle. He smiled back at her.
In the background, her mother yelped, threw her hands up into the air, and stalked off.
Her father looked pleased with himself. He puffed his chest out a bit and said, "Well, my work is done."
&&&&
Part Eight - Seth, aged 16
He put his hand on the door knob and slowly slid his key into the lock. When he turned it, he noticed that the bolt hadn't been in place. That only meant one thing: his parents were still up.
He frowned and released the doorknob to put another piece of gum in his mouth. Then, he brought the collar of his sweater up to his nose for a quick sniff test. Pleased, he put his hand back on the doorknob and slowly turned it.
The foyer was dark. That was a good sign, he figured, because his parents were probably watching television in the den. He turned after stepping through the door, and then slowly put the door back into its frame.
"You're late."
Seth stopped, cursed under his breath, and then slowly turned around to face his mother.
"Uh... yeah. Sorry about that."
"You should go to bed," she said, walking closer to him in the dimly lit room.
He nodded. "Yeah... I'm going there now. Right now. Not passing go---"
"And definitely not collecting two hundred," his father said from the kitchen doorway. "Where were you?"
"Like it matters?"
"What'd you drink?" he asked. "Scotch? No... I'm guessing beer. Cheaper. Or vodka. Cheap and little smell."
Seth stared at his father, wondering how he knew. It was dark---there was no way either of them would see the red tinge in his eyes. And neither of them were close enough to smell the party that might be lingering in his hair. And he hadn't spoken too much too fast, so there was no slurring in his voice.
"I didn't drink anything..."
"Everybody lies," he replied.
Seth snorted. "Okay. I had some juice while I was out. I was at the movies, and then we were just hanging out by the skatepark."
"Everybody lies," his father repeated.
His mother looked at both of them. "Greg, I don't know---"
Seth's father, without his cane, made slow, uncomfortable steps forward until he was in front of his son. "Hey, I think it's cool," he said. "That whole rebel, breaking the law, gettin' high kind of mentality. I just think you should hide it better."
"Hide---huh? I'm not---"
"You didn't take the car tonight," he pointed out. "You took a backpack, and you claimed you were going to the movies. Also, you took three pairs of socks out of the laundry basket today before you left---a classic tool for keeping bottles from clanging together. You sniffed your sweater before you came inside, and you're chewing gum."
His father's detective skills never ceased to amaze him.
"If you wanted to hide it," his father continued. "You should've eaten peanut butter before coming home. That stuff kills the stench of booze. And, taking the car and getting someone to drive you home, while someone else follows you in the car probably would have been better---or, you could have actually given us a reason for you being a passenger instead of someone's driver."
"But---"
"Having another sweater also helps," he continued, interupting Seth. "Keep one for coming and going, wear the other at the party. That also keeps your mother from confiscating your shirts with obcenities on them."
"Greg---"
"And, coming in and announcing your presence would have kept us from seeing the truth," he finished. He turned, looked at his wife, and then added: "Well, might have kept me from seeing the truth. Cuddy-House over here hasn't quite put the pieces together yet."
"Hey!"
Seth looked at his mother. She was glaring at Seth's father. "I was getting there. Just because I have a different---"
"Oh really?" he asked. "What was your tip off?"
"The secretive phone calls all day," she said. "Plus the car, and the sniffing of the shirt. Yes, I saw that, too. We have windows all over the place. You'd notice that if you weren't too busy trying to play all-seeing, all-knowing god."
"Play?" Seth's father echoed. "Excuse me, I do not play---"
"Also, after your little tirade, Seth looks nervous. More nervous than usual, after one of your apparently-hilarious bits. I can put the pieces together just fine." She ended speaking on a little huff. She turned to Seth. "You are grounded."
"Mom! C'mon!"
"Underage drinking is a serious thing!" she pointed out, eyebrows furrowing.
"Oh, c'mon. Child abuse is a serious thing. Forced clinic duty is a serious thing," Seth's father lamented. "Underage drinking is a regular thing."
"Greg, don't start on me."
He sighed. "You had a bad emergency case yesterday. A couple of drunk college students. They were rushing a greek assylum. Luckily, Seth's not in college yet. He's okay."
"He doesn't know---"
"Which is why he and I will have a hands on tutorial---"
Seth's eyebrows jumped up in disbelief. Seth's mother covered her face with her hands.
"What?" his father asked. "It'll be fun and educational."
"You are not getting drunk with our son!"
"You want to do it?"
"Greg!"
Seth's father sighed and turned back to him. "Well, our party's off. You going to do this again?"
"I... um... well... not anytime soon."
"Okay. Good."
"Greg!"
"Say my name, don't wear it out."
Seth cringed as his mother's hands dropped away, as her glare hardened on his father. "Dad, it's okay. How about... no tv for a week? That should do it."
"You're not even going to deny it?"
"You'd just say I was lying."
"I'd be right."
"Yeah, but---"
"Two weeks," his mother said, interupting him. "No television. No parties. The only phonecalls are for homework. I'm taking your cell phone."
"Mom---"
"Oh, c'mon, Mom. You can't take his cell phone," Seth's father said in a high-pitched voice. "What if there's like an emergency?"
"You are a miserable son of a bitch, you know that?"
"And yet," Seth's father said, turning to face the boy who was rapidly sobering up. "She still married me. I think she has a thing for my rugged good looks."
"Either that or she's completely mental."
"Good point."
Seth raised an eyebrow. "So, if she's completely mental, what does that say about you?"
The older man smirked and nodded. "Touché. I've taught you well. I'm just as hopeless as she is." He put a hand on Seth's shoulder. "Go upstairs, drink a few glasses of water, brush your teeth and go to bed. Her two weeks rule sticks."
"Next time it'll be four weeks."
There never was a next time. Seth learned how to hide his behavior better. In retrospect, he wished his father never taught him how to hide any form of substance abuse.
&&&&
Part Nine - Leah, aged 21
Leah sighed and tried to tune out the sound of her phone ringing. Studying for the medical school was stressing her out, and she didn't want to spend five minutes telling whatever peon was on the other end that she did not need to change her long distance plan.
When the machine clicked on, she turned the volume down and returned to the anatomy book that Jimmy bought her a couple of weeks ago.
The machine stopped recording after a few minutes.
Leah relaxed and resumed studying.
When the phone rang again, she growled under her breath and made herself focus on her work.
The machine took the call again.
This pattern continued---rising Leah's level of annoyance---seven times.
And then, there was silence.
Leah felt her curious nature get the better of her over the following ten minutes. Her blue eyes kept darting towards the nine flashing on the small display on the answering machine.
She gave up. She realised she wasn't going to be able to answer another question on the test she was preparing until she checked the messages. Whoever was trying to get a hold of her was very determined.
After turning the volume back up on the answering machine, she pushed the play button, and her father's voice filtered through the dorm room.
"Oh, favourite daughter... I hope you're either out celebrating the big two-one, or sleeping last night's midnight binge off."
Leah sighed. She hadn't made plans to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. She wanted to do well on her test---not end up passed out in bed with nothing but an empty wallet to show for it.
"Happy Birthday, honey," her father said, before hanging up.
The next message was also from him. "Sorry about this---well, actually, I'm not, but I know you'd want me to say something like that. Your mother would like to know if the package we sent arrived today. Send her an e-mail would you? Let her know, so she'll stop driving me nuts?"
The next voice she heard was her brother's voice. "Hey, Lee. Just wanted to call you and wish you a happy birthday. I got your gift. The cds are great. I hope you're out partying... you better be. It's your twenty-first birthday and you need to have some fun! Anyway, happy birthday again, and I'll talk to you later."
Seth was followed by her father. "The line was busy," he said, in his 'trying to solve a puzzle' voice. "I just called, and the line was busy. So, I'm calling now, expecting you to answer... or, expecting your invisible roommate to answer. And there's no answer. You're ignoring me. You could lose the title of favourite daughter for that, you know."
The next few messages were like that---her father, trying to piece together the mystery.
By the last message, he had put it together. "You're studying for your anatomy midterm, aren't you?" he asked into the machine. "Ah. Gotcha. I have a tip. Just remember, the thigh bone is connected to the hip bone and the---"
There was some scuffling on the speaker, and then Leah heard her father yelp and her mother scold him. "Honey, you ignore your father... just study until you feel prepared. You're going to do great. We're proud of you---even your father is. No matter what he ever said into this machine, remember that. And happy birthday. Love you, Leah."
Leah smiled and shook her head. Her family was insane.
&&&&
Part Ten - Seth, aged 27
Seth's success wasn't like his parents' success; it wasn't like his sister's either. It was derived from it, though. His medical-mystery novel---the first of many, according to his editor---was an instant success. Two months later, it was still a success, and a few people from the publishing company took him out for drinks to celebrate.
He didn't celebrate---he never did. He intoxicated himself, he numbed his emotions, he created hallucinations, he had mind-altering conversations that would ultimately lead to an idea for the twist in the plot.
His mother and sister always worried about him. His father told him that was how he got his best ideas. Jimmy told him he was almost exactly like his father.
Instead of keeping people out of emotional reach, like Seth suspected his father did, he liked to pull people in close. He liked to illicit positive emotional reactions from them, so he could examine them. He used those experiments to better his writing, to develop his characters.
His baby blues got him access to almost anything he wanted: girls, guys, drugs, backstage passes, deadline extensions...
After going out with the publishing house staff, he decided to stay out and find some people with which he could experiment. He was toying with an idea for his next novel, and he wanted to find two people to test it with.
He always believed in a hands on approach, to understand the things he never encountered.
That was how he ended up in the hospital with his father for two days, following him and making notes. He spent the bulk of the time with his mother, because he was convinced his father was a lunatic who lied about working in the hospital. Greg's father spent most of the day hiding from his mother and playing video games---until his mother forced a case down his throat, and then the two days became interesting.
That was also how he ended up tangled in bed between a beautiful brunette named Allison, and her lanky boyfriend, whose name he didn't care to remember.
When he woke up, the idea he had been toying with the night before had festered into a major plot point. He stood at his huge windows, dry-erase marker in his hand, and stared out at the sunrise until the plot notes hit him.
And then, he wrote. He wrote point by point what he wanted to have happen in the story---using careful code so his bedroom guests would not guess that he was writing about them. He wasn't writing about them. He wanted to apply his experience to the characters in his fictional world.
When he was finished, he lit a cigarette and wandered into the kitchen to find a beer from the fridge. That ale washed down a few painkillers he had left. He smiled to himself and started cooking breakfast.
"Hey," Allison said from the doorway after he was scrambling eggs. "Smells good."
Seth smiled back at her. "Want to start some coffee?"
"I can handle that," she replied, nodding before she moved into the cooking area and started to help him.
Her boyfriend came in and made toast, and they were all sitting together and trying not to make the situation anymore awkward than it was when the phone rang.
"I better get that," Seth said, pushing himself up from the table. Once he picked the phone up, he said, "Hello?"
"My favourite son."
"Hi, favourite father."
Greg's father chuckled. "I read another review for your book this morning."
"Good or bad?"
"Good. Suppose I should go out and buy the book, now?"
"You'd probably find it mediocre."
His father replied: "I doubt that. There's nothing in our genepool that's mediocre."
"True," Seth agreed, smiling.
"What are you doing today?" he asked. "Any chance you'd feel like joining your mother and I for a late lunch?"
"Am I paying for this late lunch?"
HIs father answered: "A successful novelist should have no problem buying his own coffee and bagel."
"Where am I meeting you, Dad?" Seth asked, trying to sound exasperated but falling short.
Allison came up and touched Seth's shoulder. "We're going to head out," she said. "It sounds like you have plans."
Seth turned and covered the mouthpiece of the phone---but he didn't do it in time, because he heard his father laughing softly. He smiled at the woman. "You sure?"
"Yeah," she replied. "Dylan has to work this afternoon, and we don't want to keep you."
"Last night was great," Seth said, looking at both of them.
Dylan, the formerly unnamed boyfriend, smiled and nodded. "Definitely was."
"I won't be able to walk properly for a few days," Allison admitted with a smirk.
Both of his guests kissed his cheek, and then they left. Seth turned his attention back to his father, who was just finishing a round of chuckles.
"You were very busy last night," he said. Seth shifted uncomfortably---he did not discuss his sex life with his father. "The two girls kind of busy?"
"No," Seth grunted.
"Ah... the guy/girl kind of busy," Greg's father replied. "Nice choice."
"It's research."
"I'm sure it was," he said agreeably. "It was still fun, though."
"I didn't say---"
"Oh, we've all been there."
Seth's jaw dropped. "What?"
"Who hasn't tried a threesome?" he continued. "Honestly, Seth. Your mother and I were young once."
Seth groaned. He knew his parents didn't get together until later in their careers---they hadn't been that young. They had established careers, they were well-respected in the community, university, and medical profession. They wouldn't have picked a guy (or girl) up in a bar.
It would have had to be someone they trusted.
The full story, without any more words from his father, hit his brain like a freight train would hit a brick wall.
"You... uh... this conversation really needs to stop," Seth managed to say as he put the pieces of his brain back together.
"Oversharing, I realise," his father said. "Anyway, congratulations."
"There's enough parking in my building for your bike, but Mom's car won't fit. I didn't buy a space---"
"Excellent," he replied, cutting his son off. "Oh, she's going to love this."
Seth chuckled. "See you in a couple hours?"
"Yep. Sounds good to me."
Three hours later, they showed up. Apparently, his father needed an extra hour to cajole his wife onto his motorbike. She hated that 'infernal contraption,' as she oh-so-affectionately named it.
Seth kept his thoughts well-compartmentalised until they were seated around the table of a quaint restaurant, sipping wine and talking about the hospital, Leah, and other things.
He looked at his parents and wondered how much else he didn't know.
&&&&
Part Eleven - Leah, aged 30
Her mother had retired, but her touches remained in the office and throughout the faculty. Leah sat in the office of the Dean and tried not to fidget as the man spoke of her family's legacy and Princeton's prestige.
"It would be a match made in heaven. We were glad that you applied for the opening."
Her eyes widened. "I... um... Why would you say that?"
"You've been doing great work in clinics and in journals," Dr. Gilmore said. "Your father won't be working here much longer. Since your mother retired, I assume he'll be following her lead. You would be a prime candidate to take over, and perhaps take on a small role in the lecture hall."
"I... wait, on my father's diagnostic team?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound too stupid. The truth was that she had no earthly idea what was going on.
"Well, yes, of course." He smiled. "In fact, Dr. Wilson already approached me to make sure I---"
"This is really great," Leah said, lying as she silently put the pieces together. She was going to bring a world of pain down upon her father, she decided. And Jimmy, too, if she discovered he was a willing accomplice. "I'm thrilled. Is there a reason my father's not telling me---"
Dr. Gilmore nodded. "He hoped if the news came from me, you'd realise that you earned the position. He didn't want you to think he was accepting you because of familial obligation."
"I'll bet."
"Dr. House, has another offer---"
"Oh, no," she interupted quickly. "It's certainly a lot to think about, though. I thought he wouldn't accept my application," she lied, while fantasizing about the destruction she was going to bring down upon her family. "I haven't even begun to think about moving back here, or... wow. There's a lot to do."
"Would you like to take a couple of days to think about it?"
Softie. Suppressing a snort, she pouted a bit and nodded. "Would you mind?"
"Of course not," he said as they rose to their feet. "Call my office when you've made a decision."
"Thank you very much for telling me," she said, smiling almost too sweetly.
They shook hands, and then she marched out of the dean's office and straight to her father's office.
Leah's father, Jimmy, and two doctors were sitting around a table, talking and brainstorming. She stepped into the room and put her hands on her hips.
Her father nudged Jimmy. "I think she's talking to you."
"Oh no," she said firmly, a growl seeping into her voice. "I'm talking to both of you."
The younger doctors, who didn't know who she was but knew she meant business, looked at Leah's father. "We're going to excuse ourselves," the female said, before they hurried past her.
"Quick," Jimmy said. "Balcony."
As Leah moved to the table, her father and uncle bolted. Her father was a little slow, but her uncle helped when he could. Leah stalked them to the balcony, and as her father was lifting his leg over the wall, she said, "Stay right where you are."
"Besides, we're old," Jimmy pointed out. "Could break something."
"Good point," Leah agreed. She turned to her father and said, "You set this up, didn't you? You asked me how busy my week was a few days ago. You wrote my C.V. up, you listed references, you applied me for the job on your staff!"
"Wow," Jimmy said. "She's good."
"And you helped," Leah said whirling to face him.
He cringed. "He made me do it."
"You two are like fraternity brothers!"
Her father's eyebrows jumped up. "All of our dubious scheming aside... are you going to accept?"
"What? A job where you can torture me every day of the rest of my life?" She asked. "Why should I do that?"
"Because it's the best job you'll ever have," he replied. "Except for the job you'll be offered after I retire."
"You're grooming me."
He nodded.
Leah narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"Because, I made a bet with Von Lieberman," he told her in his dry, story-telling voice. "And I told him long after he retired to a life of eating strained carrots, Dr. House would still be Princeton's best diagnostician on the pay roll."
"Nice try."
Jimmy coughed and then said, "No, really, he did."
Leah's eyes shot to her father's; blue met blue in a battle of wills and so many other things. "How long ago did you make this bet?"
"Fifteen... no... twenty years ago. Wow. It's been that long."
Leah felt her balance waver. Jimmy caught her before she fell, luckily. He helped her by propping her against the wall of the balcony. "I can't believe it," she mumbled. "Has my entire career been a manipulation? Have you been grooming me since Mom was pregnant?!"
Something changed on her father's face. It became softer. She had only seen that expression once---when she thought her mother was really going to leave him for something he did intentionally. This was him, Greg House, without the mask and without the sharp, bracing bite.
"No," he said quietly. "You went into medicine because you were interested in it. I didn't... I wouldn't have done that."
"The bet..."
"I would have figured out a way to stay on the payroll," he said, shrugging and shaking his head.
Leah bit her lip. "So... so this is... for real."
"If I suggested it, you wouldn't have agreed to it."
"True."
"But, you're good at what you do. And... I want you here."
She nodded. "Is this some reaction to Seth's overdose?" she asked quietly. "Some need to keep your brood close to home?"
"No. I just want to work with you."
"Really?"
He smiled, and she saw the mask sliding into place again. "Yeah, plus, I want to torture you mercilessly. Payback, or something."
Leah smiled. "Okay."
Jimmy exhaled a long, slow breath. "You can't chase old men, Lee. Gives us cardiac---"
"I'm not through with you."
"Oh."
Leah smiled and then laughed when she saw the look on Jimmy's face. "Next time my father tries to manipulate me, I expect you to give me a heads up."
"Hmmm. Yeah, but what about the times when he manipulates me to manipulate you?"
"Those, I'll let slide."
Jimmy nodded. "Okay. Sounds fair."
Leah accepted the job an hour later. She called her mother, and she met them at the hospital; they ate lunch in the cafeteria, talked about where Leah should look for a house, and caught up. It felt like a celebration of sorts.
Years later, she would look back on her father's actions and know he did the right thing---even if it was incredibly underhanded. And she would know that Dr. Gilmore regretted the day he ever met either Dr. House.
She may not have been the same miserable sociopath---she knew what other doctors said behind her back---but she was still her father's daughter.
&&&&
Part Twelve - Epilogue
'Dad, you told Seth you'd pay for his therapy. I assume, since you enjoy tormenting your children equally, that you'd also pay for mine. Love always, Your Favourite Daughter.'
Greg smiled and headed down the hall to the master bedroom, cane in one hand, Leah's letter in the other.
"Whatcha got?" Lisa asked quietly, as she snuggled up to Jimmy in their bed.
"Did you find my mug?" the former oncologist asked.
"Your McGill mug is in the sink," he said, shuffling towards the bed. He sat down with a pained groan and then added, "I used it last night and forgot to clean it." When he saw his friend's face tighten, he said, "Oh, relax. Your precious mug is safe."
Lisa reached out and nudged her husband with her foot. "Whatcha got?"
"Well, Partypants, it's a letter from Leah," he said, passing it towards her.
As she read it, he eased back against his pillows on her other side. He sighed and pulled his bad leg onto the mattress. Lisa laughed and passed the letter onto her other bedmate. He laughed, too.
Greg smiled at them both.
"Good girl," Jimmy commented. "Smart girl." He looked at Greg. "You must be proud."
Greg chose not to reply. Instead, he smiled and waggled his eyebrows. Lisa chuckled under her breath.
"Very proud," she answered for him. She reached out and rubbed his stomach. "They turned out okay, didn't they?"
He nodded and kissed her cheek. "Yeah," he murmured in his rough, content voice.
