“He’s not doing too well, is he?” I ask my sister. Her eyes are dry and red, while I’ve been fighting back the tears all fucking night. She’s strong as hell.

“No. Not really,” she says. We’re outside, divided by the glass windows of the house. Near the bushes, we stand shadowed as siblings. Her hand is shaking as she lights a joint and takes a deep inhale. “Want some?”

“No thanks,” I mutter.

“C’mon, James. It’ll help,” she prods.

“Jenna, I’m a doctor,” I laugh.

“Oh. Right.” She takes another long drag and slumps against the wooded house. “I don’t know about dad. I think he knew this was coming. You know, we’re all getting older. He knows how to handle this stuff.”

“He wants me to get married,” I tell her. When I say the word “married,” my lips twitch slightly and I have to try hard not to look unenthusiastic about the idea.

“Family is everything, right?” she smiles.

“I don’t disagree with the notion. I’d rather just not dive into it yet,” I say.

“You will when you’re ready. Though, he’s got a point. You’re thirty-five now. Eventually, it’s going to be too late to do all those family things,” she says.

“Yeah. It’s just that most women are…” I stop speaking when I see a lone cat walk across the street.

“Most people aren’t worth the time. I get it,” she says. Her special cigarette has now burned halfway. The lit embers pulse downward, toward her fingers. She takes another drag.

“Exactly. Plus, I’m a fucking surgeon. I barely have any time for myself these days,” I say.

“Marriage isn’t a cake walk. Let me tell you,” she laughs and throws the joint. Then, she closes her eyes, but tilts her head up at the shining moon.

“I bet,” I say. “We should go inside. Dad will be wanting to have the honorary drink with his son soon.”

“It’s a good tradition. But I prefer the honorary joint with the sister,” she says.

I put my arm around her shoulder and smile. “Things will get better sis. They always do. Even in these circumstances.”

A tear falls from her eye. She tries her hardest to shield her face from me. No other tears form after that. “I know they will,” she says.

But the memories are all too perfect. There were the winters up north. There were the summers at the beach. Mom holding the whole family together, always with a giant smile on her face. Yes, everything was far too perfect, which is why this is so fucking hard for everyone.

I walk inside and quickly analyze the situation. As a surgeon, this is what I’m trained to do. If there’s a problem, there has to be a solution. Of course, the sad realization is that we haven’t caught up with our desires. Not yet, at least. We’re still fucking floundering and my mom is on her deathbed. My dad hasn’t got a clue as to what to do and for the first time in my life, I don’t either.

We just sit and wait. We drink. We stare. We laugh sometimes when we think about certain memories, but that always comes back to the one fact that remains. Someone we love is dying.

Later, my father gives me a glass of scotch and motions me to follow him to the study. “How are you holding up?” I ask him.

“Never ask a man that sort of question. He’ll always lie,” he says, with a slight smirk to his lips, though they never rise too high.

“I suppose you’re right,” I nod.

“I wanted to give you something.” He walks toward his desk and sits down on the red leather chair behind it. Setting the drink down on an elegant coaster, he sighs and shakes his head. “What a day, huh?”

I keep silent. I wasn’t prepared for this, but I’m going to remain strong for my family. Whatever he needs from me, I’ll be there. “Remember when I bought Jenna that cabin in the woods up north?” he asks me.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I was pretty pissed.”

“It was a modest marriage present,” he jokes. “You see, I’ve always had a plan for you too.”

“A plan?” I ask him. I lean against the bookcase, filled with endless pages, quite possibly never read.

“Family, son. It’s all that matters. But now, life has reared its ugly face at us, causing us to act faster than normal. There was something I wanted to give you, as well,” he says.

“I don’t need much,” I tell him. “I just want to be here for everyone.”

“That’s exactly my point. Someday, you’ll be in a similar situation to me. You’ll understand the importance of everything then, I’m sure,” he says. He reaches for his glass and takes a drink. The ice lightly taps against the inside, near the rim. “This house is our house. We don’t pay a thing for it anymore. Well, nearly.”

“I love this place,” I tell him. It’s up in the mountains, yet not too far away from civilization. Outside the window are the endless lights of the city.

“I know you do. Your sister never cared much for it. But you… you’ve always had a fondness for escape, even if you are an extrovert. It’s the perfect place for a man like you. That’s why I want to gift it to you,” he says.

“Gift it to me? Dad, I can’t accept that,” I whisper.

“Well, if you don’t, it’s going to Aunt Carolina,” he laughs. “And then you’ll never see the inside of this room again.”

“Yeah, because she’ll turn it into the cat grooming area,” I laugh with him. “I guess I can’t let that happen, huh?”

“No, you can’t,” he says, buckling down once more. “This gift comes with one special condition.”

One special condition. Everything comes with conditions in this family. I sigh and look him in the eyes. “What condition?” I ask him. This is starting to feel like a business deal gone wrong.

“That you find a woman and marry her,” he says. “And you better do it before I leave this earth, dammit.”

“Dad, you’re healthy. You’re going to be around for a long time,” I tell him. It’s true. Even at his age, he’s looking five to ten years healthier than most men. The Mason family has always had good genes.

“Stop ignoring what I just told you. I’m being serious, James,” he says.

“Marriage,” I sigh once more. Fuck me. “That’s what you want out of me?”

“Love. Family. Real happiness. Continue the family name,” he says. “Find a nice girl who hasn’t been tainted by society yet. I know that’s what you’re after.”

“You’re old school,” my father used to tell me. I’m not sure if I am, but he’s at least a little bit right. The women I come across at bars or in clubs, even at fancy restaurants are not the women I’m after. Everyone is constantly staring at their devices, their television screens. They’re too afraid to confront what’s in front of them. Not me. I confront death on a daily basis. I deal with tumors the size of fucking watermelons. I’ve seen horrible things and because I’ve faced my fears head on, I’ve grown as a man.

“It would take me ages to find someone I like,” I say. “And I’m not sure the whole marriage thing is for me.”

“Spoken like a true progressive. Well, if you can’t do it, you can’t do it. The house will go to Aunt Carolina. Cheers.” He holds up his glass in the air.

“I’ll try my best,” I say.

What the hell do I even mean? The house is definitely going to Aunt Carolina, that asshole. But I can’t lie to myself. There isn’t anyone special out there for me. It’s just me vs. the world. It always has been.