Page 4 of Dr. Attending

Then, one night when I was avoiding my responsibilities and cleaning my room, I spotted it again. I don’t know what compelled me to pick it up, but I sat down on my bed and cracked it open. The pages were filled with what seemed like the most random assortment of things: short-legged beach chairs, pink packets of artificial sweetener, the sound of leaves crunching in the fall, birthday cards that sing. And as I read, Ifound myself doing something that I hadn’t done in a long time. I was smiling.

I had forgotten how the little joys in life—the ones that often go overlooked—sometimes mean the most. The book reminded me that I needed to slow down. To look for something good in each day. To change my perspective, just like my mom used to tell me to do.And somehow that little reminder of her was the one thing that pulled me through my grief. It kept me connected to her in a way that I never expected. In a way that made me forever grateful to whoever it was that gifted me the book.

Ever since that day, I’ve been keeping a list of my own. A list I try to add at least one thing to each day, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. And tonight, as I sit here surrounded by Willy’s takeout and the company of my siblings, I decide to make my entry about them.

Family Dinners

I grin as I type the words into the note I keep on my phone, and place it on the table in front of me.

I thought choosing a medical school in the same city as Parker and Claire would allow us to see each other more often, but it feels like the only time our schedules converge perfectly is for our monthly family dinners. And while I’ve always been independent and comfortable on my own, I miss them both a ton.

“Remind me why we couldn’t do this tomorrow night?” Claire whines as she closes the sliding glass door and walks toward us. “It’s not fair that we’re missing someone.”

The early August heat is brutal, but for some reason she’s making us sit on the balcony. It makes no sense becausethere’s a perfectly good dining room table inside where the air conditioning is blasting, but I guess I should know by now that this is my older sister’s show—the rest of us are just supporting actors.

“I don’t see anyone missing,” Parker comments mid-bite, not playinginto her antics.

I close my eyes and exhale, praying for patience because if I had to guess, Claire is about to say something to purposely piss him off. She just can’t help herself—middle child syndrome is ingrained in her psyche.

My sister’s icy-blue eyes glimmer with amusement as she sinks into the gray outdoor sectional beside me.

“How could you forget yourbrother?” she taunts predictably. “I would think you would appreciate him a little more given how well helooks after me.”

I sigh because I love her, but this is exhausting.

Claire put her life on hold to care for our mom during her chemo treatments last fall, and when Mom finally passed, she had a tough time. She’s always been the extrovert in the family, and I think that living alone in the penthouse only made her feel more isolated.

I didn’t have the time to be there for her because I had just started medical school. And since Parker was buried in work at the hospital, he didn’t either. For some reason, my brother thought the “solution” to my sister’s grief was to move his friend Beau into the condo to keep her company.

In hindsight, the idea was ridiculous because Beau had just started his orthopedic surgery residency—he barely had time to pay attention to himself, let alone another person. But he didn’t let that stop him though, because one thing led to another and by January, they were dating.

Do I love that my sister found someone just as spirited as she is?Of course.

Does my brother love it?Depends on the day.

He’s learned to accept it . . . until they start taunting him. Their latest joke is that Beau is going to become part of the family one day. I’m not sure why, exactly, the word “brother” sets Parker off, but every time they say it, the vein in his forehead starts to steadily pulse—just like it is now.

Parker’s Adam’s Apple bobs as if he’s trying to swallow down his irritation.

“Claire,” he warns, his voice dropping low.

I’m sure he thinks that he sounds intimidating, but his tone does nothing to curb our sister’s menacing smirk.She lives for the drama.

Her dark curls fall over her shoulder as she leans forward to grab her steak quesadilla from the table. “Yes?”

Right as Parker is about to open his mouth, Cassidy’s hand lands on his upper thigh and gives him a quick squeeze.

I’m not sure what kind of sorcery she has in her touch, but Parker thinks better of whatever he was going to say, and he lets out an exasperated exhale instead.

“I’m happy that you’re happy.”

God bless that woman.

My sister might enjoy focusing on Parker’s faults, but he really has changed since Cassidy came into his life. He’s more playful, more present, and a hell of a lot more patient than the focused dickhead we knew growing up. And I say that with all of the love in the world.

“Well, I’d be happier if Beau were here,” Claire pouts. “You know I’ve barely seen him in two weeks? Tomorrow is his only day off, but I have stupid school all day. It’s literally so unfair.”

“Only two semesters left,” I offer, wishing I could say the same thing for myself.

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