Page 31 of Harper's Holiday Romance
Mine too, but she didn’t need to know that.
Sarah knew, and she side-kicked me under the table.
“Ow.” I scowled.
The food order was swift. I ordered the peanut sauce enchiladas for my main, followed by a Mexican chocolate brownie dessert; its flavour was a little bitter, and the cinnamon overpowered the cocoa, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
The majority of the conversation came from the top of the table. I hated being on the end. I felt so disjointed, but I remained composed. I wouldn’t allow our guests to know about the discomfort I felt in being bundled in the corner with nothing but Julia’s deciding stare as company.
“So, Julia, what do you do?” Sarah asked politely.
I focused my energy on the stem of my second glass of wine.
“I’m a medical resident.”
“Oh, cool,” Sarah chimed. “I thought about being a doctor.”
“You did?” I challenged. It was news to me.
“Yeah, when I was nine. I went fishing with my dad, and there was a dead fish; I felt really bad and told my dad I was going to be a doctor so next time I could save it.” She shrugged.
“Not quite the same, but okay.” I laughed. Sarah elbowed me in the rib. “Ow.”
“She studied at Brown.” Her dad beamed proudly.
Of course she did. I knew it. She was an Ivy League alum. I didn’t know much about the American educational system other than what I saw on the TV, but even I knew the prestigious Ivy League universities and how low their acceptance rates were.
“Dad,” Julia cautioned.
“What? You’re so modest,” he countered. Bob leant forwards on his elbows. “She’s going to be a neurosurgeon,” he announced to the table.
“Wow,” Billie marvelled.
“A neurosurgeon, huh? Isn’t that one of the hardest specialities to train in?” Sarah asked. All eyes were on Julia now. Everyone clearly found her fascinating. She was charismatic. I could admit that.
“It is one of the longest and most complex careers,” she confirmed.
“It’s about fifteen years, isn’t it?” Billie asked. How did she know that? Billie and her never-ending fountain of knowledge.
Julia nodded. I imagined dedicating fifteen years of my life to a career and immediately felt inadequateknowing my job selling houses required little in the form of qualifications.
“She wasn’t satisfied with being an orthopaedic surgeon like her old man. I knew she was destined for big things.” Bob knocked back another whiskey on ice.
“Dr. Derek Shepherd, eat your heart out,” Sarah joked.
Wherever possible Sarah tried to refer real life situations back to the hit ABC dramaGrey’s Anatomybecause it was her life’s goal to live vicariously through the characters. The last time I checked she’d binged the series for the eighth time.
“Flattered, but I don’t want to go out that way.” Julia shook her head.
Grey’s Anatomyand its seventeen thousand seasons played on loop in the four years me and Sarah lived together, so I had no choice but to be aware of Derek Shepherd’s death. The sobbing that erupted from Sarah’s body was impossible to forget. The conversation was one I could participate in to a degree, but I felt compelled to stay quiet.
“Don’t,” Sarah put her hand up. “It still hurts my heart.”
“You’re so dramatic.” I laughed. “I don’t think it can compare toLove Island.”
Billie shot me the dirtiest of looks. I knew the topic would trigger her.
“Do not compare that trash TV to one of the greatest shows ever made.” She was firmly in the camp with Sarah, although not as obsessive.
