The aroma of fried cheese, spicy tomato, blistered peppers, and whatever else Samiah had ordered from their favorite Spanish restaurant’s tapas menu permeated her friend’s condo. Thank goodness it did, because London had just burned the zucchini that was supposed to be used in place of lasagna noodles in the dish Taylor was teaching her to make.
“What did you do?” Taylor snatched the spatula from London and scraped the charred vegetables from the pan. “You’re the only person I know who can burn food so badly that it sticks to the bottom of a nonstick skillet.”
“And this is why I ordered tapas,” Samiah said. “I still get nightmares from the grilled cheese you made me months ago.”
“Ha ha,” London deadpanned. “I know the Mediterranean diet is the best for me, but I’m not sure this will work if I have to make the dishes, Taylor. Cooking is the one thing I do not excel at, which is why I don’t do it.”
“You’ll learn!” Taylor said. “The recipes are super simple. You just need some practice.”
“Well, can she please practice in her own kitchen? I happen to like mine and don’t want it going up in flames,” Samiah said. She turned to London. “And remember, it’s not just your diet you need to worry about. You still need to do more to reduce stress.”
London pointed to the top of her head. “Doctor here. I know all of this.”
Samiah pointed to her own head. “Doctor’s friend here. I know you know this, but I don’t see you practicing it. Have you been journaling?”
“The journal is in my purse.”
“Anything written in it?”
“I plead the Fifth.” London held up both hands. “I promise to journal and try at least one recipe a week from that book,” she said, gesturing to the cookbook Taylor had brought with her tonight. She picked up the lid for the jar of sun-dried tomatoes that had been spared from joining her ruined veggie lasagna. “Can we please just eat? I’ll stick to the shrimp and the peppers tonight. Both are pretty healthy.”
“Fine,” Taylor said, “But I want reports on your meals. And if I have to cook for you, I can do that. I just want you to be healthy.”
London’s heart jumped to her throat. She set the jar on the counter, walked over to Taylor, and pulled her into a hug. “That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”
“Aww, I love us,” Samiah said. She wrapped her arms around both of them.
After a few seconds, London shook Samiah off. “Okay, let go. You know I hate this mushy stuff.”
“I could have used another minute or two, but whatever,” Taylor said. “Let’s eat.”
London wiped away the evidence of her ruined dish from the counter, and the three of them went into the living room. They sat around Samiah’s coffee table, where the dozen or so tapas were spread out.
“Okay, woman, what’s up with this emergency girls’ night?” Taylor asked. “Is Daniel putting a ring on it or what?”
Samiah’s head snapped back as she loaded a helping of garlic-butter shrimp onto her plate. “What? No,” she said.
“No?” London sat up straight. “Why else would you bring us here on a Tuesday night if not to announce your engagement?”
“Girl, Daniel just moved in like a second ago. We haven’t even agreed on what to do about his ridiculous CD collection—he has to put some of that shit in storage,” Samiah said in a lowered voice. “Besides, I would have just texted if that was the case.” She picked up her phone, swiped across the screen, and turned it so that it faced them both. “The Just Friends app is officially in the App Store. That’s the reason we’re celebrating tonight.”
It wasn’t the news London had expected, but that was her own fault. Knowing Samiah, she totally should have predicted this would be related to her career.
“Congratulations,” London said. She clinked Samiah’s glass of sangria with her own. Her friends had agreed the sangria was okay because it contained fruit. “To hard work paying off.”
“Amen!” Samiah said. “This app kicked my ass, but it was so worth all the effort.”
“There it is!” Taylor swayed back and forth from where she sat on the floor, next to the coffee table. She held her phone aloft. “Taylor’d Conditioning’s ‘Lost in the Woods’ Survival Experience is front and center. Is there some kind of rewards program for the vendor that brings the most people to the app?” she asked Samiah.
“No, but that’s not a bad idea. I may add it later.”
The door to the bedroom opened, and Daniel walked out. He wore a starched white button-down shirt and blue tie. His bottom half sported ratty basketball shorts and bare feet.
“Evening, ladies,” he said. “Don’t pay me any attention. Just grabbing a bottle of water before my meeting.”
“A shirt and tie instead of a hoodie?” Taylor remarked. “Will the head of the FBI be on this call or what?”
Daniel’s eyes shot to Samiah. She held up her hands. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t say anything.”
“Holy shit, you are talking to the head of the FBI tonight?” Taylor screeched. “You totally need to put on pants for that, dude. C’mon.”
“I’m fine as long as I don’t stand up,” he said. He walked over and planted a kiss on Samiah’s forehead while simultaneously filching an aioli-covered patata brava from her plate. “My meeting with an ordinary fellow government employee who shall not be named will probably run a couple of hours.”
“We’ll try to keep the noise down,” Samiah told him.
He waved that off. “Don’t worry about it. My microphone will be muted throughout most of the meeting and I’ll have on headphones.” He gestured at London and Taylor. “Good night, ladies.”
“Tell the FBI director I said hello,” Taylor called to his retreating back.
“Is Dimples really going to be on a call with the head of the FBI?” London asked once Daniel had closed the door to the second bedroom. It had been converted into a home office that looked more like the cockpit of a fighter jet with all the computer equipment his job required.
Samiah drew her fingers across her lips and motioned as if she were throwing away the key.
“That means yes,” London and Taylor said to each other.
“Remind me never to say anything incriminating while I’m in your house,” Taylor said. “This place is probably bugged.”
“I don’t think undercover agents bug their own homes,” London said. “But you still keep the incriminating stuff to yourself. No one is bailing you out of jail again.”
Taylor stuck her tongue out at her, but it was all in good fun.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Taylor flapped her hands like a bird flapping its wings. “I have got to tell you guys about this chick who went full-on Karen in my humanities class today.”
As Taylor began an animated recounting of her entitled classmate’s tantrum over her grade, London’s thoughts meandered to the impromptu Zoom meeting she’d had just before coming to Samiah’s tonight. She had vowed to get out of the habit of checking her email after leaving the hospital—one concession she’d made in her effort to develop a better work-life balance and practice better self-care. But checking her work email was as automatic as cringing when she encountered a pickle on her hamburger—it was just something she did.
And once she saw the email from the director of the fellowship program at the hospital in Chicago, she had to read it. Of course, once she read the email she didn’t have to accept his invitation to a quick chat over Zoom. But she had.
And she had nearly lost her damn mind at the incentives the three doctors on the other end of the call had lobbed her way.
It was nice to be wanted—okay, so it was better than just nice. It was a full-on ego hand job—but there was a difference between having your ego stroked and having the red carpet laid out for you in mind-blowing fashion.
London had sat behind the wheel of her car, Googling the typical extras fellowship programs used to lure highly sought-after candidates. She could find none that came close to what she’d been offered. The salary was so lucrative that most surgical residents would FedEx their acceptance letter via same-day delivery, but there was so much more. She would get to work with a team of cardiothoracic surgeons headed up by Dr. Eveline Mayberry while they crafted a new study in pediatric heart surgery. It was groundbreaking work, and she would be at the forefront.
Just when she thought her decision to remain in Austin had already been made.
London fought the urge to physically rub her stomach. The ache had settled there the minute the meeting concluded, and nothing she did was able to abate it.
“Hold on,” Taylor said. “What’s up with you?”
It took London a second to realize Taylor’s question was directed at her. “Huh?”
“I just said that I was thinking of adding an interpretive dance class for NFL players to my list of workout classes and you didn’t make a snide comment.”
“I thought you were talking about the Karen from your humanities class?”
“I moved on from the Karen like five minutes ago,” Taylor said. “I knew you weren’t paying attention, Ms. Rude Butt. What’s going on with you?”
“First, tell me you are not serious about that dance class.”
“Of course not. Maybe not. It was a joke, but you didn’t respond, which makes me nervous.”
“Same,” Samiah said. “You’ve been unusually quiet tonight. I don’t trust it.”
“I’m fine,” she said with a sigh. London pitched her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Work, family, or the fuck buddy?” Taylor asked.
She scrunched up one side of her mouth. “Honestly, all three.”
“Oh, shit.” Samiah added more sangria to London’s glass, using a big wooden spoon to scoop fruit out of the glass pitcher. “Which one do you need to start with?”
“They’re all intertwined in a way,” London said. She ate a chunk of wine-soaked apple, then repositioned herself on the sofa, tucking one leg underneath her and bending her other knee so that she could rest her cheek against it.
“I guess the easiest to explain is Drew,” she started. “He has moved far past fuck-buddy status.”
“Has he now?” Taylor asked with a smug lift of her eyebrows.
“I am not in love with him, so don’t even go there,” London said. Yet, the moment the words left her mouth, she felt as if her nose would sprout a branch like Pinocchio. She groaned, tapping her forehead against her knee. “This is ridiculous. It’s way too early to even contemplate being in love with him, but what the hell do you call it when the thought of not seeing someone every day makes your chest hurt?” She pressed a fist between her breasts. “And I’m not talking figuratively here. It literally hurts when I think about him going back to New York.”
“Oooh.” Samiah winced. “You got it bad, girl.” She hitched her head at Taylor. “You know that blend of uplifting essential oils she gave us? I start diffusing it two days before he leaves for an assignment,” she said, pointing to Daniel’s office. “And I still wait around for his text messages and phone calls like I don’t have other shit to do with my day.”
“What’s up with that?” London asked. “A simple ‘how are you?’ text from Drew has me smiling like a damn fool.”
“You are so in love,” Taylor said. “It’s adorable.”
“Shut up.” London squeezed her eyes shut. “It just seems so dramatic. And extremely inconvenient. I have too much on my plate right now.”
“When does Drew leave for New York?”
“Trident is wrapping up their work. He hasn’t said anything yet, but I doubt he’ll be in Austin by this time next week. But this is about more than just Drew,” she said.
She looked at her two friends. These women who she’d met only six months ago, who were already like sisters to her. She wouldn’t be leaving just her family—she would be leaving them.
“I got a job offer,” London said.
“What! Congratulations!” Samiah screeched.
“Yes! Girl, gimme some!” Taylor held her hand up for a high five.
“In Chicago,” London finished.
Taylor dropped her hand. “Chicago?”
Her words had sucked all the air out of the room, replacing it with a pregnant silence that hovered over them until Samiah finally said, “Umm…okay. Wow.”
“Are you taking it?” Taylor asked.
“I don’t know.” London hunched her shoulders. “I would be a fool not to. This is one of the most competitive fellowships in the country, and I would work with some of the top doctors in my field, including one of the first Black women doctors to ever perform open-heart surgery on an infant. She’s a pioneer in the field of pediatric surgery and my idol. I can’t even describe how amazing this would be for my career.”
“Why is it even a question?” Samiah said. “Go!”
“But she has a house here,” Taylor said. “And friends.”
“Her house isn’t going anywhere if she doesn’t want to sell, and this isn’t the Dark Ages. We can have our girls’ night from anywhere in the world. That’s what FaceTime and Zoom are for.”
“It’s not that simple,” London said.
“But your residency is coming to an end, so you’re not obligated to remain at Travis County Hospital, right?”
“No, but it feels as if I’m abandoning them.”
“Exactly,” Taylor said. “Stop pushing her to leave.”
“Stop pushing her to stay just because you don’t want to lose your friend. I’m here,” Samiah said sympathetically. She directed her attention back to London. “This is not you. You are more practical than this. If this job in Chicago is the best move for your career, you have to do it.”
“Okay, so maybe it is that simple,” London said.
She’d wrestled with this decision for months now. But at the heart of every argument she’d made and every pros and cons list she’d concocted was this one truth that Samiah had laid out so succinctly. This was the best move for her career.
She thought about her patients, many of whom she’d seen multiple times in the past five years. She thought about the MSE room she’d fought for, and how much it would hurt to leave just as it was finally being created.
She thought about Nina, and how much her little sister needed her. Koko and Miles too. She remembered visiting April in the hospital the day Miles was born, and they’d just celebrated his ninth birthday. She’d already missed so many moments of their childhoods; if she moved to Chicago, she would miss so much more.
“I still have some time before I have to give them an answer,” London said.
She had a week. One week.
Today’s impromptu Zoom meeting was basically a shit-or-get-off-the-pot warning. This was the thick of “match season,” that time of the year when residents either were matched with fellowships for further training in their specialties or moved on to full-time positions in hospitals and clinics around the country. The hospital in Chicago couldn’t hold her spot forever. She wasn’t that damn special.
They deserved an answer from her.
It was time for her to figure out what it would be.