ONE
HOLLY
“Where the hell is my stethoscope?”I mutter, digging through the mountain of clothes on my bed. The clock on my nightstand blinks in angry red digits against the backdrop of a still dark window, reminding me that my flight leaves in exactly two hours and eleven minutes. “I just had it yesterday!”
“Maybe it’s hiding from you,” Josephine calls from my doorway, leaning against the frame with a steaming mug of tea in one hand, while the other lingers on the barely there bump of her belly. “Like everything else you need seems to be doing.”
She has the nerve to look both relaxed and cheerful at such an ungodly hour of the morning. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders in perfect waves and she barely looks like she burst through the door in a frenzy at 6am this morning, demanding to know if I had strawberries in the fridge because her mates forgot to pick any up and the organic grocery store doesn’t open until 8am.
“Not helpful, Josie.” I toss a pair of scrub pants over my shoulder, narrowly missing her face. “Seriously, I packed it last night. I distinctly remember putting it in my medical bag.”
“Which medical bag?” Josephine asks, sipping her tea with infuriating calmness. “The one you take to the hospital, the little Red Cross one you keep for emergencies, or the fancy one your mom got you for graduation that you never use because it’s too pretty and she’ll be mad if it gets banged up?”
I hesitate, my hands buried in a pile of socks. “The one I always use. The hospital one, that I…”
“…always put in the same place?” she prompts with a smirk.
“In the hall closet.” I scramble off the bed, nearly tripping over an open suitcase as I rush past her. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because watching you panic is the most entertainment I’ve had all week.” Josephine follows me into the hallway, carefully navigating around boxes labeledJosie’s Winter ClothesandJosie’s Booksthat have somehow multiplied since she officially moved out last month.
I yank open the closet door and there, sitting innocently on the top shelf, is my leather medical bag with the stethoscope’s tubing peeking out of the side pocket. Relief floods through me as I grab it, checking inside to make sure everything else is there.
“You’re a disaster,” Josephine observes, not unkindly. “How on earth are you going to survive in the wilderness without me?”
“It’s not technically the wilderness,” I correct her, tucking the bag under my arm. “It’s a small town with an actual medical clinic. They have electricity and running water and everything. The wilderness part is just for emergency response.”
Unfortunately. The thought of spending the rest of my life entirely removed from civilization becomes a little more attractive every day.
“But no Josephine,” she points out, following me back to my bedroom. “Who’s going to remind you to eat something besides protein bars? Or force you to sleep when you’ve been awake for thirty-six hours straight?”
If she weren’t prone to hormonal swings in temper, I’d point out that I spent significantly more time cleaning up Josie’s messes than she did mine. I might have a tendency to burn the candle at both ends, but she spent more than her fair share of late nights bent over the toilet after too many jello shots. I had to make her promise to avoid the red ones because I nearly gave myself a heart attack once thinking she was literally puking up her own insides.
That said, I almost never had fun in college unless Josie was involved.
It’s hard to reconcile the former party girl with the nesting mother she’s about to become, though she has thrown herself into the new role just like she does everything else. And she seems more than happy to practice her nagging on me so she gets it right before the baby comes.
“I’m a grown woman and a doctor,” I remind her, resuming my frantic packing. “I think I can manage to feed and water myself.”
Josephine makes a skeptical noise that I choose to ignore. Instead, I focus on the impossible task of fitting everything my anxious mind thinks I might need for the next eight weeks into two suitcases and a carry-on. The airline’s weight restrictions mock me as I try to zip the bulging bag.
“I just can’t believe you’re going to be gone for Christmas.”
I wince at that, hearing the echo of my mother’s voice in her words. I wouldn’t have scheduled this rotation over the holidays if I’d had a choice, but the winter elective block had been my only choice. Josie will be busy with her pack anyway, and I wouldn’t have wanted to intrude. The alternative of going home to an undecorated house for a silent dinner of duck noodle soup and dumplings with my parents is something I can only tolerate once every few years. We never celebrated Christmas when Iwas a kid, and the forced family time just always felt like an opportunity for potential conflict.
“Why is all your stuff in my closet?” I grunt, throwing my body weight onto the suitcase to close it.
“What stuff?”
“Your club dresses.” I gesture wildly toward my closet, where a collection of sequined, sparkly garments has mysteriously appeared among my sensible button-ups and slacks. “Like, all of them. Why are they here when you have a walk-in closet the size of my entire bedroom in your new place?”
Josephine’s face falls slightly, her hand moving unconsciously to her belly bump. “I didn’t want the reminder that I can’t fit into any of my cute clothes anymore.”
The self-consciousness in her voice makes me pause. I cross the room and pat her belly as I pass, my irritation softening. “Pregnant and fat are not the same thing, Jojo. And don’t you have a closet full of designer maternity clothes now?”
“Just because they’re expensive doesn’t mean they’re cute,” she grumbles, but a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Besides, the personal shopper my mates hired picked out most of them. I didn’t even get the fun of crying in a dressing room after looking at my reflection in what might as well be a funhouse mirror.”
“You’ve never looked more beautiful,” I tell her honestly, folding a sweater with more care than it probably deserves.
