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“Shhh!” I admonished her. “My dad loves this grill more than he loves me!”
With that, we watched in silent fascination as our coats, filled with memories and multiple stains, burned to a crisp. The flames engulfed the last fibers, and the embers began to die down until the final pinpoints of flame slowly petered out.
“You burned your coat?” a deep male voice queried. I whipped around.
“Amir?! Am—Am—Amir. What are you doing here?”
“Your dad called. Well actually, both of your parents. They thought you might be happy to see me.”
I jumped in his arms, tears streaming down my face. “They did? Oh, they did!”
Epilogue
Do I regret it? If I had it to do again, knowing now what I didn’t know then, could I have endured the rigors of medical school training?
Lost in the excitement of what was to come, I temporarily missed the fact that my head was set to “spin cycle.” After all, I had been pressured, cajoled, almost coerced into becoming a doctor. Somewhere in there was my heart, the heart that partlybeat for Amir, the two young transplant patients, the young woman with Lou Gehrig’s disease.
More than anything else, all of my life was influenced by my mother’s sharp admonition in my childhood that if I failed in medical practice, I would be a nothing, a forgotten soul, an unattractive little girl lost in the wind.
Yet she was evolving, softening. Hadn’t she brought my love back to me? Or did she? I realized it was likely my father who had engineered Amir’s return into my life—at least temporarily.
There was still a great deal of post-traumatic stress from having grown up as an awkward child. That had left me no alternative: the only way to make up for my disadvantages would be to achieve success at the highest level possible. I felt that pressure every day. The albatross of superior performance was still around my neck.
And then there was my budding pride and ego, having to prove to the Alex Goldmans of the world that if I wasn’t good enough to live with, I would find a way to be better without them. I was still open to the possibility that I hadn’t explored all of my potential soul-mates.
Perhaps Dean Vernon was wrong about me. Maybe I had become enough of a bitch for a surgical career. It remained to be seen whether or not I could hold onto any compassion as opposed to turning into the medical pit bulls I had encountered. And then again, did I even have a chance at empathy? Was it do or die, sink or swim? If you can’t beat them, join them?
I didn’t know what would become of Amir and me in the long term, but for now, I had the comfort of knowing that I didn’t have to cut him completely out of my life. Yet ironically, we would be separated, as he ultimately decided that he wanted to return toPakistan to bring modern medical practices to the small rural towns of his native country.
Residency in New York City was on my immediate horizon, and we agreed that our disparate careers right now would require a 100 percent commitment, so we had to be free of commitments to each other. If things were meant to be...
For now, I felt a mixture of excitement, nerves, intimidation, and empowerment. Like it or not, I was finally a big cat, and I had a feeling I was ready to roar.
END
