Nomi.
My heart thrums in a wild, tachycardiac stress response to those old bumper stickers, their exact placement burned into my memory alongside every other detail about Nomi I hoarded our senior year. I got my first glimpse of thenew girlwhen she showed up to the inaugural varsity debate team practice. Dressed all in black, her long, dark waves dyed the color of a moonlit night, she looked so—sointimidating—but when our eyes met, my mouth hanging slightly open, she smiled, soft and seeking.
And I stupidly told her she was in the wrong place. She had to be, I thought. Because someone that beautiful and interesting and completely fuckingcoolcould notalsobe a varsity debate nerd like me. We weren’t the same species of human. She was the one wearing calf-high lace-up boots, and I was the servant ready to lick them. That soft smile transformed into a scowl as she entered the room anyway and took her seat opposite me, but it returned when our coach enthusiastically welcomedher, already aware of her total domination in the southeast debate circuit and her strong performance nationally. By the end of practice, I was in total awe of her, and she hated me like everybody else did. But it didn’t matter to my heart. Nomi Wyeth was an argument I couldn’t win and a fight I was desperate to have. We battled every day after that—across the podium, over valedictorian, and later, when the arguing turned to frantic kisses in dark classrooms after practice, that felt like a battle, too.
And now fifteen years later, I’m back, and here we are, battling again, and I’m losing, again. All it would take is one call from Nomi, and all hope of returning to Philly Gen would be vanquished for good. I have to apologize, and Ihaveto get it right.
But she’s here,now? I’m not ready—I haven’t perfected the speech I spent the weekend rewriting. I hit Eric’s number, cursing when it goes straight to voicemail.
“Eric—just texted you my revised apology speech. Could you please review? Nomi’s here, and—”
A beeping sound interrupts me from my car’s speakers, and my mother’s name appears on the center console. “Accept call from Mom?” the robot voice asks.
I hastily disconnect the call to answer the other, my heart now pounding in my chest. Maybe it’s the way we lost Dad, or all the years I’ve spent in Emergency Medicine, but every time Mom calls, my sympathetic nervous system goes into full fight-or-flight mode, always expecting the worst. Mom knows this and usually texts before calling to say:I’m fine, everything’s fine, gonna call you now, okay sweetie? Love you.
But she didn’t text this time. The muscles in my throat constrict.
“Everything okay, Mom?” I half-bellow into the speakerphone. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, sorry to scare you, sweetie, my texts aren’t working. I’m spending the night at your Great Aunt Edna’s house because she’s not feeling well.”
I exhale shakily. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
“Also, Aunt Edna wants you to visit—you haven’t been by yet. Fix that soon, okay, Julie? Now get to work, can’t be late for Dr. Appa. Love you, bye.” Mom hangs up, no response from me required.
I press my hand to my chest, willing the anxiety to recede into its cave until it emerges again and terrorizes me another day.
There is no emergency, everyone you love is okay.I breathe in and out, repeating the mantra in my head, eyes closed as I grip the steering wheel. Ialmostbelieve it.
The sound of nails rapping against the window tears me from my breathing exercise.
Fuckinghell. My cousin Veronica’s grinning on the other side of the glass, her eyes narrowed in fiendish glee. “Julian!We were just talking about you!”
Then I see her, standing in front of the old Strange Drugs Pharmacy. Nomi’s bright-eyed and grinning, but not at me. She’s staring down at a stack of papers in her hands. She looks up at Veronica’s words, and my rapid pulse flounders, then slows in despair as her joyous expression vanishes upon seeing me, a reaction as familiar as the bumper stickers.
I launch out of the car.
“Veronica.” The car door shuts behind me like a terse punctuation mark. I want to walk briskly past them, disappear into the clinic’s comforting fluorescent lights, and lose myself in the medical service of others, the only time I ever feel worthy.
Butdammit, I have orders, and running away isn’t an option. My jaw clenches, as if trying to prevent the word, but I force it open. “Wyeth.”
Well. That’s a start.
She rolls her eyes.
“You two are neighbors now! Nomi just leased Strange Drugs, but I assured her you won’t be around for long. Your probation from PhillyGen’s—what? Six months?” Veronica smiles as if airing my dirty laundry is the best part of her day.
“It’s not probation; it’s an intensive residency.” My gaze flicks back reluctantly to Veronica as I grind out the carefully negotiated language Philly Gen’s legal counsel prepared to save face in the event the hospital wants to reinstate me. I glance at Nomi. “You leased the old pharmacy?” The surprise is evident in my voice. “Why?”
Nomi clears her throat and, rather than answer me, turns to Veronica. “I’ve got to go, but when can I take possession?”
Veronica hands her a small ring of keys. “Technically the lease doesn’t begin until July first, but since no one’s using the space, they’ve agreed to let you move in early. But no business until after the city council meeting, okay?”
And it’s back—that joyous look from earlier. It makes my heart sing, though I did nothing to earn it and have no right to savor it.
“Oh my God, Veronica, you’re amazing!” Nomi grabs my evilest cousin and hugs her like she isn’t a cobra wearing a human skin suit. “Thank you!”
Veronica smiles at her, actuallysmiles, and it doesn’t feel nefarious at all.
