“You’re always exhausted, Dr. Sunshine.”
Julian Keller and I met in med school and have been thick as thieves ever since. We bonded over our mutual hatred of most things that aren’t brain related. The nicknames started as a joke—something we swore we’d never tolerate. Now I can’timagine a day passing without being called Dr. Sunshine or calling him Kells at least once.
The snow thins to slush near the curbs as we march toward where the brunch spot’s located, knowing I need to meet Nate and his mom in an hour.
“So,” Julian says eventually. “How was your shadow shift with Steinberg?”
“Brutal … like always.”
He nods, unsurprised. “You’re not quitting, are you?”
“It’s unbelievable how that woman does diagnosis. It’s like that show with the asshole doctor but you’re standing right there.”
Julian glances sideways at me. “You hated Neurobiology of Disease in med school.”
“I didn’t hate it. I failed it.”
He slows, forcing me to match his pace. “You didn’t fail. It was a hard requirement, and you froze.” He catches my gaze. “Could have happened to anyone.”
While still in med school, our professor for this class would start with a round robin of symptoms, and a different student would diagnose each time. During my turn, my brain lagged. My motor cortex and muscles spoke different languages, leaving me unable to speak.
“I panicked. And then I avoided it.”
“So you’re not avoiding it now?”
I hesitate. Julian Freaking Keller, the resident every attending thinks walks on water and every nurse wants to bone, has had a totally different experience in this diagnostic program than I have.
“Remember—” I swallow. “How I had to make up hours at a hospital two counties over just to stay on pace with general medicine requirements?”
Julian nods. “And your boards.”
I look away. The humiliation still burns—my barely passing score posted in the lounge, weak references from general medicine paired with mediocre results. I’m in neurology; my post-residency prospects were already slim, and now…
I kick at a dirty snow pile. “I need a glowing rec from every freaking specialist I’m working with in this program. I won’t get it if I quit because I failed to diagnose something outside of my specialty and got yelled at.”
“Doctors are dicks.” Julian hums. “Nate knows this?”
My mouth tightens. “We’ve done distance before. A couple of times. Two months here, six months there. We were fine.”
“Fine isn’t good enough for you two.” His voice softens. “You’re—you’re the annoying couple everyone wants to be.”
“I know.” I exhale sharply. “He said if it happened again, he’d relocate. You know, not even a discussion, just a fact. A promise.”
“And that scared you.”
“Yes.” The response is rushed with certainty. “He shouldn’t. He has a career too. Almost finished logging hours for his architect’s license. He wants to design modern structures with art deco influences—things I can’t even describe. He shouldn’t follow me just because I wasn’t good enough.”
Julian stops and grabs my arms, steadying me until I look at him.
“Robyn. Are you sure this isn’t about?—”
“This has nothing to do with my mom.”
Julian clicks his tongue. “I was actually going with your dad.”
I exhale. “Dad is… a whole different story.”
“He’s a tool, Robyn.”
