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If there was one thing that Cal hated it was waking up to see a text from her mother.
Coming up to Princeton this weekend. Fancy meeting us for lunch? x
Cal rolled her eyes. That kiss on the end irked her more than it should've done. Her mother was a stern and prestigious woman who didn't come across as somebody capable of much emotion. However, with her own family (and with her daughter and husband in particular) she was very affectionate and cheery. The contrast had always confused cal, even from being a little girl; she realised it must have been because Dr Tara Stevenson was a workaholic world-renowned physician with a reputation to maintain, whilst Tara Stevenson in her role of Mum was rarely seen and something she didn't take on often. It didn't help that Cal had been looked after by Gabriela for the majority of her younger years in New Jersey.
On the opposite end of the spectrum was Cal's father, Angus: he didn't practice medicine anymore and only taught it, which meant he could be as relaxed as he pleased. He was very much a stereotypical father in the sense that he had an abundance of bad jokes stored away in his brain, he liked to simultaneously drink beer and watch the baseball on TV, and sleep in his armchair on a Sunday afternoon when he was halfway through reading the newspaper.
What baffled Cal the most is that her fellow medical professionals- especially those who shared the same specialities as the Stevensons- didn't realise they were related. She thought that the accent would have been a dead giveaway, but it did, however, make life better for her when they didn't know. Cal loathed nosey people and especially those who asked about her family life. She found it easier to say, with a slight tinge of sadness in her voice for effect, that her parents were dead. They stopped wanting to ask questions when she said that.
Perhaps she was still bitter about how pushy they'd been towards her when forcing her to follow in their footsteps. Cal couldn't argue, though, she had a good job and had met Lincoln because of it, but she wished that her parents would have just listened. Even for just five minutes. Maybe things would be different now if they had.
Ignoring her mother's text, Cal got out of bed to make breakfast. Lincoln himself was sat at the table reading one of his biology textbooks as he munched on a slice of heavily buttered toast.
"Morning," he greeted with his mouth full and then after swallowing, "Do you want some toast?"
"No, thanks, she replied, making her way over to the coffee pot that Lincoln had already filled up. "Just caffeine will do me."
"But you need a proper meal, Cal."
"And that's why I'm taking some of that leftover soup to work with me, so I can have it at lunch."
"I'm talking about breakfast-"
"I know you are," Cal interrupted with an amused smile. "I'm the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around."
