“You don’t?—”
“I do, though.” Julian cuts me off. “He sucked at graduation.”
“He hasn’t been the same since we lost Mom.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to?—”
“He doesn’t like doctors.” I hitch a shoulder to shrug off the hurt that he still sees me going into medicine, like joining the ranks of those who failed to save Mom. We talk twice a year; see each other even less. “He wants me to at least be a good one.” My tone’s firm, done discussing my father today.
Julian huffs becauseheisn’t. “You are more than good enough, even if your dad doesn’t see it.” His grip firms slightly. “And Nate loves you. He’ll work with you—no matter what comes next.”
I know Nate loves me. It sits on top of my chest like a heavy rock when I think about what my failure securing a good attending position in Chicago might do to his career.
“Hear me out. The work we do takes a toll. On your schedule. Your energy. Your priorities. Sometimes, people die on you, and suddenly surviving feels like enough.”
I swallow. “What are you trying to say, Kells?”
“You’re running yourself ragged trying to get this hypothetical attending job.” He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. “Are you sure things with Nate are okay?”
I huff out a breath. “I—” I tap on the side of my leg. “It’s not like we get a lot of time together, you know? We’re notnotfine, but it’s?—”
Julian nods. “You have to talk to Nate.” His gaze on me is a window into a frozen ocean. “Your career choices affect him. Don’t diagnose your relationship in silence.”
Rebecca’sfavorite brunch spot is a loud and warm diner. It smells of coffee and fried eggs—cutlery clinking, plates sliding against sticky tabletops, the hiss of the espresso machinecutting through conversation. She hugs me the moment she sees me, all wool coat and vanilla-cardamom perfume, her cheek chilled from the outside. We sit and order a large mimosa pitcher; citrus and cheap champagne mingle with everything else in the air.
Nate sits in the booth next to me. The burgundy vinyl squeaks every time his warm thigh bumps against mine.
“I’ve had a rough couple of days at work. Chief of neuro… she’s a beast, but…” I stir cream into my coffee, the spoon clinking against porcelain.
Rebecca’s and Nate’s faces break into that same uneven grin that deepens the crease at the corner of their mouths.
His mom taps her knuckles on the table. “But what, sweetie?”
“I don’t know,” I add, exhaling. “I missed something. I?—”
Rebecca covers my hand with hers, and Nate slides closer to me, wrapping his arm over my shoulders. “You’re doing something really hard. And you’re still in training, sweetheart.”
I nod. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
“And why wouldn’t you be?” Rebecca asks, as if the suggestion were a personal affront.
“It’s a great opportunity, and I have six months left. It’s about to pick up even more—probably closer to eighty hours. More weekends. And I’m already strugg?—”
“You’re learning,” Rebecca says. “You’re meant to struggle.”
Nate nods, smiling, but the curve tugging at his lips is a fraction too tight. His arm and thigh tense, as if he’s holding himself in rather than me.
“I am really proud that you’re persisting,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “You’re rocking this diagnostic thingy, babe.”
“Nate, I’m worried that?—”
“You don’t have to worry. You’re amazing. Everything’s going to be okay,” he states, his eyes catching brown under the light.
I tap the table, counting the possibilities, the smooth coldness of the wood beneath my nails calming me. I want to be the best neurologist I can be, learn and train as much as I can so I can see things others miss and save patients others would have let slip through the cracks…
If it was just my professional future on the line, I’d risk moving to the middle of nowhere, trading city noise for the endless hum of cornfields, and losing state-of-the-art equipment and top-notch consultants for a standard county hospital.The type of facility that failed my mom.
It isn’t just me, though. My stomach twists at the thought. It’s Nate’s too—I’m not willing to give him up. I can’t risk him having to leave the Windy City of big architectural dreams.
