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Mission accomplished, she hangs up. I sit and turn the phone over in my hand. Does anyone else have calls like this from their mother? Do they hang up without an “I love you”? Did we catch up? I told my mom I was taking someone to Javier’s wedding: who is that going to be? The blue wall looms over me, the abundant herbs running along the kitchen windowsill that I’ve been keeping alive for Liss while she’s been in Africa. Complete blank. I don’t have any male friends. I push up from my chair, fill the kettle with water, and place it on the stovetop.
I press the button to call Georgie, but it goes straight to voicemail. My parents would think they’d died and gone to heaven if there was the prospect of me marrying someone from college or from the hospital.Another doctor, darling—how wonderful!I skim over the guys I know better than just a nod in the hallway: nope. They’d all think this was the oddest thing in the world to ask them to do.
And despite the flirting at dinner the other night, I suspect Fabian will have figured out by now how uptight I am. I was never the cool, hippy chick who I can see would be much more his speed; I can really see him with someone wild and fun. And I absolutely don’t want to go there, I remind myself, but that still doesn’t solve the problem of the hole I’ve just dug myself into.
6
Kate
Aweek later, I shoot out of the ER to escape a night where I lost count of the patients who didn’t make it, and I jump onto a bus to go and meet Jo and Liss. My God!Liss.Liss is back. I text Jo that I’ll be there in thirty minutes, and collapse into a seat beside a large man who’s breathing heavily, eyes closed. I watch the in-out in-out of his chest, before giving myself a shake and staring out of the window.
Liss arrived back in New York yesterday from her water project in Africa, and the apartment has been dead without her live-wire presence. She did a degree in civil engineering, but decided to use it in the developing world, so now she disappears off to Africa as often as she can, and I have a rotation of temporary roommates. Her family is a lot like mine. I’m the conformist; she’s the rebel like Georgie. But where my sister is a campaigner, Liss is a builder, never happier than when she’s knee-deep in dirt and sweating on a construction site. I don’t think her father has ever forgiven her for using her degree to do good in the world.
I scroll through my phone, grinning as I find the place I’m meeting them. Liss has chosen a typical hipster hangout close to the apartment, all nonsense detox juices and chai tea, and the medic in me is already rolling my eyes. They charge a fortune for flavored water.
“Oh my God! Look at you!” she bursts out when I arrive, almost leaping over the table to hug me as my arms come around her, and my eyes prick, inhaling her warm scent of earth and patchouli. Student nights dance before my eyes, both of us in our tiny apartment with whatever drink she’d forced on me in an effort to loosen me up. Jo grins at the pair of us as Liss steps back and tracks me up and down. “God, how straight up you are! You look like a real doctor, K.”
I laugh as the stress of attempting to keep everyone alive, of trying not to worry too much that I’ve made some awful mistake, washes out like the tide. Have I changed that much in four months?
As is Liss’s way, I’ve no time to breathe before she launches right into it.
“Oh my God, K, you have to save me.” She squeezes my hand. “I was just telling Jo. I’ve got to move out of the parents’ house. I’ve been back twenty-four hours, and they are already on my back. “When are you going to do something decent with your degree?’ Yada. Yada. Yesterday my father said, ‘I don’t think you’re going to make very much money in Africa, Alicia.’”
I laugh. “What did he say when you told him that wasn’t the objective?”
“You see this is what I love about you guys.” She circles a long finger between Jo and me. “You understand! When I told my dad the aim was to make a difference, he said, ‘Well, you can’t live off making a difference, Alicia,’ and we got into a big argument about what ‘making a contribution to society’ meant.” She rolls her eyes.
“You can come and camp on my couch,” Jo says.
“Or come back to the apartment,” I say. “You can camp on my floor. In fact, your old room might even be up for grabs. I’ve not seen Lucy, who took your room, for ages. How long are you back for?”
“Actually,” she says, eyes meeting mine, “moving back into the apartment would be amazing. I’d love to be close to campus. I ran out of money, and I need to save up again before I can go back. That’s why I’m at home. That’s why my parents are giving me such earache; they think I’m here to start planning and building a career.” She makes a face. “I’ve got a temporary job with my old professor helping in the department. They want someone to fill in while one of the staff members is on maternity leave.”
“God, that sounds perfect,” Jo breathes.
“I know, right? And the pay is good, too. It was a total fluke. I was heading to the library to look at some research on irrigation design, and I ran into him.”
I study Liss’s glowing face and deep tan. She’s pursuing her life’s dream while here I am treading water, floundering in my first job.
“You look so brown and healthy,” I say, and she doubles up laughing.
“Oh no way! I’m tanned because, duh it’s Africa! And I’m thin because I’ve had the most god-awful illnesses. There are drugs for all the ones the West is familiar with, but Africa has other bugs and they’re dreadful. I have been through the mill physically.”
My brain kicks into full gear. “Are you okay? Do you want me to check you over? What meds have you been given?”
She grins at me and waves her hand. “Stop being a doctor, I’m fine.”
“Can’t stop doing that,” I mutter, and although I’m itching to examine her and get all the details and sort her out, I tamp it down. What would it be like to be a medic out there?
Liss points a finger at me. “Don’t even think about working in Africa. A lot of the Western doctors out there”—she shakes her head—“they burn out so fast. The day-to-day decisions you make about people who are starving and dehydrated … they’re tough. Don’t get me wrong, the work is important, and it sounds awful to say it, but you have to be realistic about the toll it takes.” I grimace at this: I already feel burned-out working in the ER. I’ve learned really fast that you can’t save everyone.
I glance over at the line at the counter and catch a guy looking over at us. He’s kind of cute but posh looking in his smart suit and my mind immediately leaps to Javier.
“Oh God, I’ve got my own awful parent story.”
“Spill,” says Liss, grinning. We’ve swapped stories about our manipulative families for years.
“My cousin Javier is getting married at the end of May—”
