Page 6 of Anatomy of a Meet Cute
“No. Why would I read that? I am going to meet everyone at orientation and then get stuck asking about their hobbies anyway. Easier to honestly not know than to act like I don’t while people repeat themselves.”
Duke gave Jehan a sideways look. “Twenty bucks says she is gonna ask to borrow your face flash cards.”
“You made flash cards? Who are you?”
“Someone who majored in nanorobotics and worked in a remote village to improve emergency medical outcomes using cell phone technology from 1995,” Duke answered for their roommate.
“The old-tech part wasn’t in the guide,” Jehan said, giving Duke a quizzical look.
“Some people make flash cards; I LinkedIn stalk.” Duke shrugged over the sound of Sam’s laughter.
Turning to look at her, Duke said, “So, Mini Martha Stewart, you gonna clean the bathroom today, or was all that sparkle-tape chore chart for fun?”
“It’s called washi tape, and it is both fun and functional,” Sam said, glancing lovingly at her chore chart. “Besides, the schedule was Jehan’s idea. I just made it appealing.”
“Don’t blame that pink-glitter chart on her. And if that glitter ends up in my hair or anywhere on my face, you better let me know,” Duke said, eyeing the thing hanging on the fridge with mistrust.
“Do you really think I’d have you out here looking like a Christmas tree?” Sam joked before hooking her hand on her hip and adding, “Yes, I’m gonna clean the shower. Why, do you want to get in first?”
“If he isn’t showering, I want to shower,” Jehan piped up.
“Now hang on.” Duke held up a hand. “Are you washing your hair, ’cause if that takes you four hours—”
“I’ll clean the shower, but y’all have to keep me company while I do it, ’cause I need to tell someone about the ridiculous plane ride I just had. It involved magic mushrooms and a fight with another doctor.”
“Wait. What? How did you not lead with that?” Jehan asked, her incredulous tone filling the cracks between the floorboards in the living room.
“Honestly, I was so tired from coming up that hill that it sort of slipped my mind.” Sam shrugged, making her way toward the hallway closet.
“Well, I wish you had remembered, because now we have to try and squeeze all three of us into that tiny bathroom,” Jehan sighed.
“I second that. Get out your little toothbrush, your rubber gloves, and your homemade cleaning products, Dr.Holbrook.” Duke could joke, but Sam had never met anyone who loved to be tidy more than him. He would put her father’s naval precision to shame.
Sam smiled at her two new roommates. Sure, she still had a week’s worth of Los Angeles dirt to wash off her clothes and a full day of New Staff Orientation to think about, but before she could stress about the future, she had at least an hour’s worth of laughing to do with two people she wished had entered her life much sooner.
“See ya,” Jehan called over her shoulder as they walked into the shiny hospital building. Her research would focus on examining the efficacy of low-cost nanotechnologies to help patients in emergency medicine, while Sam and Duke had the same obstetrics and gynecology focus. Duke would be spending his time looking at data on former cancer patients who were pregnant and receiving care in public-hospital settings. Meanwhile, Sam was hoping to develop and analyze direct intervention methods to improve outcomes for marginalized pregnant people. It was wild to think of tiny, lovely Jehan tracking how robots could help with gruesome gunshot wounds and kitchen accidents. Then again, Jehan seemed thrilled, so who was Sam to judge?
The three of them had spent the morning huddling in the general New Staff Orientation and learning about the basics of time cards, which didn’t really apply to them, and how to blow the whistle on HR concerns, which would apply to them, although Sam hoped shewouldn’t need the information. Now, facing down the doors of her specialty orientation, Sam felt the butterflies return in full force.
“I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna run to the bathroom. Save me a seat, yeah?” Sam said to Duke, not really waiting for an answer before dashing to the blue door markedRESTROOM.
Walking into the first available stall, she sat down. Feeling green around the gills, Sam closed her eyes, forcing herself to take three deep breaths to try to get a handle on the butterfly rampage inside herself. God, she wanted this to go better than the plane. This was a chance to redeem herself and prove she wasn’t nearly as helpless as Mark the Mushroom Man had made her feel. All she had ever wanted was to help people, and in a few minutes, she would be one step closer to her own panel of patients.
Opening her eyes, she walked out of the stall and began washing her hands. Even though she was half-Black, anxiety had robbed her skin of enough color that she looked gray. Using a damp paper towel, she wiped a bit of stray mascara out from under her brown eyes, fussed with the tight curls in her ponytail, then pinched some life back into her cheeks. Taking one more deep breath, she pulled the bathroom door open and dashed across the hall to the conference room the new fellows and residents were gathering in.
Spotting Duke, Sam slunk past a few semifamiliar faces until she reached the chair he’d saved for her and dropped into it with a noisy exhale.
“Doing okay?” Duke whispered. “You look pale.”
“Fine. Just nerves. Gotta make up for the—”
The conference room door whooshed open, halting Sam midspeech. Her mouth went dry. Somewhere in her chest, the butterflies she had recently caught began pummeling her heart, causing it to beat erratically against the lump in her throat.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Duke hissed, eyeing her with concern.
“Hi, everyone, let’s get started.”
