Aarti took a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the doctors’ lounge, stifled a yawn, and claimed her favorite table by the window while her stir-fry reheated. She liked the view, even if the brown vinyl chairs on this side of the room had torn seats. Finally getting to eat almost two hours past noon at least provided quiet.
She pulled a fork rolled in a napkin from her bag. Jo often packed her a lunch after a night of cooking for her, and Aarti wondered if Jo made extra just so she could. Upon unrolling it, a flash of red caught her eye. She smoothed the paper to find a heart drawn in marker. When she turned it over, it was blank.
A heart? Jo had drawn a heart for her?
They’d been sneaking around for months, scrambling to find rare nights and even rarer days in which to spend with one another. Jo didn’t work on Mondays since it was her least busy day, but even taking one day off from a new restaurant was often difficult.
A heart.
What had Jo meant when she drew it? Aarti traced the red ink with her fingertip. Did it mean Jo loved her? Exhilaration surged through her like she’d gotten an amp of IV epinephrine. While Aarti had suspected her feelings had been heading that way for some time, and she knew Jo cared for her, she hadn’t assumed Jo felt the same. They’d never said the words. Were they in love? Were they even in a relationship? They hadn’t used the term girlfriend, but then again, so few people knew about them, they hadn’t needed to define what they were to each other.
The buzz of the microwave startled her. She carried her food to her seat. Once she’d settled, she slid out the napkin and looked at it again. Their time together was precious, and seeing Jo was the highlight of every week. In such a short amount of time, Jo had gotten to know her better than anyone, could read her better than her family or colleagues, and had become the most important person in her life. Aarti’s chin quivered. Someone so dear, something so precious, shouldn’t have to be kept a secret.
She stabbed a piece of tofu and stared out the window at nothing in particular. Her morning had been hectic, but the empty lounge gave her uninterrupted time to consider what might have inspired Jo to do this. Or it did until her mother entered and scanned the room, her eyes brightening when she saw her.
Aarti quickly folded the napkin into her hand.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Singh.”
“Hi, Mom. How’s your day?”
Her mother gestured toward the opposite chair. “May I join you?” At Aarti’s nod, she sat and unwrapped her sandwich. “Difficult surgery this morning. Couldn’t get her heart started off pump and ended up losing her.”
Aarti knew the death of a patient, especially in the operating room, always affected her mother. She squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Her mother skated past the platitude and eyed Aarti’s lunch. “That looks healthy. Did you make it?”
Aarti pushed a mushroom aside and speared a snow pea. “Yes, healthy but delicious.” In truth, her only contribution had been rinsing the rice, at least until Jo had slid her hands under her shirt from behind. The next thing Aarti knew, her back was on the tile with Jo’s head pressed between her thighs. Later, when they’d sat down to eat and uncooked grains of rice had fallen from Jo’s hair, they’d laughed until they cried. The memory made her smile.
“What’s that about?” Her mother circled a finger in front of her face. “You seem to be enjoying something amusing.”
“It’s nothing.” Aarti wasn’t about to tell her mother about the memory. She crushed the napkin tighter.
“You had that fortieth anniversary this weekend, right?” Her mom extricated an onion from her sandwich and set it aside. “Are you looking so vibrant because it went well?”
Aarti’s stomach tightened at the dozens of lies she’d told her parents since Maya’s wedding. She hated dishonesty. “Yes, they were quite pleased.” While true, it wasn’t the entire reason for her demeanor.
“I don’t know how you find time to plan events around all this.” Her mother made a sweeping motion. “Or why you’d want to. You’re going to exhaust yourself.”
Her mother was partially right. Aarti often had trouble finding enough hours in the day, sometimes using her lunch to return calls or send emails to her clients. In this month alone, she’d planned the anniversary, a bat mitzvah, and a birthday party. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed a free weekend, but it was worth it. The high of doing what she loved was difficult to replicate. “I’d like to do even more events.”
Her mother made a choking sound and reached for Aarti’s water. She took a long swallow and returned it. “And how do you plan to do that?”
“My contract is up for renewal soon, and I plan to negotiate.” Aarti had discussed it with Jo last week. “I’m going to ask Jeff about dropping to three-quarter time.” She tensed and waited for her mother’s response.
“No longer full time? Perhaps your father and I made a mistake in gushing about how well Maya and Jackson’s wedding went. You did an outstanding job, but leaving cardiology to do that?” Her mother’s nose and upper lip scrunched. “We paid good money for your education.”
“I’m not leaving cardiology, just reducing my hours.”
Her mom opened her sandwich and redistributed the vegetables. “I hesitate to tell you this now because I don’t want to validate your decision, but I recommended you to Susan this morning.”
“Susan?” Aarti thought she knew the members of her mother’s team, but that aside, her mother was referring clients to her?
“The new anesthesiologist that started a few weeks ago. She’s engaged, and they want to set a date for next fall.”
“Who’s she marrying? Does he work here, too?”
“No, she’s a paralegal or something.” Her mother glanced at her, but quickly looked down.
She? “Oh.” Her mother was sending a same-sex wedding her way? “Thank you. Susan knows how to contact me?”
“I gave her your number.” Her mom wrapped the rest of her sandwich. “That doesn’t mean I approve of your plan. What am I supposed to tell people? ‘My daughter who followed in my footsteps would rather plan baby showers and quinceañeras’?”
Her mother’s vitriol stung. Yes, Aarti had chosen cardiology to please her, but then she’d disappointed her mom when she hadn’t become a surgeon. “Let them talk. It’s not a reflection on you. Give the rumor mill half a day, and they’ll have something else to focus on.”
“Indeed. Like how my single daughter who never dates is planning a lesbian wedding.”
Aarti sighed. “You referred Susan to me. Besides, I am a lesbian.” She’d never responded like this to her mother before, and it showed in the way her mom’s eyes blazed.
“You know how I feel about that.” Her mother quickly glanced around, likely to ensure they were alone.
Aarti slipped the remains of her meal into her lunch bag and stood. “I do.” She clutched the napkin in her hand. “But it doesn’t change the facts.” Aarti paused beside her. Yes, they were at odds, but she wasn’t heartless. “I’m sorry about your patient this morning.” With her lunch and the precious note in one hand, she squeezed her mother’s shoulder with the other.
Back in her office, Aarti smoothed the wrinkled piece of paper. She wasn’t sure how to interpret Jo tucking a heart in her lunch, but it had to be positive. Warmth spread through her. Even the unsettling encounter with her mother wouldn’t dampen her spirits today.