People were scattered throughout their home, mostly gathered in small groups with overflowing plates in hand,though the real party was in the open-plan family room and kitchen. The island was covered end to end with pies.
Whitney was nestled on a sofa between Dr. Mercer, who I still couldn’t think of asMeri, and Dr. Shapiro, one of the few burn surgeons who didn’t believe in eating the young. She glanced over when I walked in but that was the only recognition she offered.
I kinda loved it.
There was nothing better than being in on a secret.
Acevedo clapped me on the back, saying, “I told O’Rourke and Stremmel about your rescue experience and they want to talk to you. They think we can juggle a few of your second-year rotations to get you more time in trauma and emergency.”
I’d promised myself I’d see the year through before making any decisions about specialties. Elective rotations weren’t even offered until the third year so it hardly mattered whether I chose a direction before then but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready to dive into trauma surgery.
“That would be incredible,” I said.
“Stremmel is going to want you to commit to staying here for your fellowship but?—”
“I don’t mind,” I said quickly. I missed the West Coast like crazy and I wouldn’t say I adored this town, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Not while Whit was here. “Actually, I’d love it.”
“Don’t show your hand too fast,” Acevedo said with a laugh. “Let them work for it. Come on, we’ll get you a beer on the way.”
And that was how I found myself grazing on pie and beer while Stremmel and O’Rourke, two of trauma surgery’s biggest power hitters, argued over how they’d convince the residency director to swap out my second-year breast surgery rotation for an extra spin through trauma.
I was a big fan of that idea. No shade to breast surgery, but one less rotation spent learning procedures that I’d never useas a trauma surgeon made all the difference. Except that meant breaking away from my cohort. They’d all go on to breast surgery while I hooked up with a new team in trauma.
I knew we’d split up sooner or later. Obviously. Tori didn’t have a specialty in mind yet but Reza walked through the door knowing he was headed for surgical oncology, and Cami had always leaned toward general but our time in pediatrics had her waffling. Even if we stayed together this year and next, the rest of our residencies would be a mix of required rotations and electives.
And it wasn’t like we’d never see each other. If all else failed, Cami would still herd our asses up for weekend journal sessions.
But they were like family to me now. I didn’t want to be the one to break us up.
Watching the trauma guys was amusing as hell. They were like a black and white film era comedy duo where Stremmel was the curmudgeon who only spoke in glares while O’Rourke was the Jack Russell terrier talking in stream of consciousness circles.
“Here’s how the rest of your year is going to go,” O’Rourke said around a mouthful of cashews. He held the bowl of nuts in the crook of his arm like he was running to the end zone. “Four months on general, which is gonna be great. Do you know Emmerling? Emmerling’s awesome. She’ll kick your ass, but you’ll thank her for it.”
Stremmel nodded. “Accurate.”
“Then you’re on general night float which is a bitch and it’s gonna fuck up your life but everyone has to do it.”
Another nod from Stremmel. “Mmmhmm.”
“Then you’re playing in our sandbox,” O’Rourke continued, knocking back another handful of cashews. “Two months in trauma and emergency surgery, one on trauma night float.”
“Is that going to fuck up my life too?” I asked.
“You won’t even notice it at that point,” O’Rourke said. “But that gives you three straight months with us this year and then you’ll roll right into your Emergency Department rotation which you’ll love. You’re gonna be a pro at that on day one.”
I didn’t know about that but I appreciated the vote of confidence.
O’Rourke dropped a hand to my shoulder. I was pretty sure it was the cashew hand and that I now had salt and nut dust on my shirt. Of all the things that ended up on me in a given day it wasn’t the worst, though I had learned a lot about him tonight.
“We’re doing this thing. We’ve got a plan for you, young man.” My best estimate put O’Rourke a couple years younger than me, though he seemed like the kind of guy who called everyone he likedyoung man. “But if we do this and then you fuck off to Penn or U-Mich or UC fucking San Diego for your fellowship, I will dedicate the rest of my career to trolling you. Do you understand?”
“O’Rourke.” Stremmel sighed. “Could you spare us the drama? Please?”
“I’m not going to San Diego.” My gaze traveled across the room to where Whit sat, her back to me as she and Dr. Mercer told a story that had the group rolling with laughter. “There’s a lot keeping me in Boston.”
“Good to know,” O’Rourke said.
Dr. Shapiro circled the island, her eyes darting to the mostly devoured pies before stopping beside Stremmel. He looped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. I forced myself to look away because neither one of them wanted me staring, but how had I made it this far without knowing Shapiro and Stremmel were together?
