The picture of the two of us in Greece filled the screen for a moment before I held it up to my ear. She picked up after two rings.
"Hello? Sweetheart?" My mom's voice was soothing through the phone, even when she seemed panicked. "Is everything all right?"
"Hi, Mom," I said, casually. "Everything's fine. I just wanted to say hello."
I felt her relax. Her voice was more even now. "Oh, good." I heard her settling into an office chair. "I'm glad you called. How are your classes going, Elizabeth?" Even though she was my mom, she always used a patient, professional tone. Sometimes, I think she speaks to me like I'm one of her patients. I'd only seen her address a few patients before—mostly people who had hurt themselves while she happened to be around—but each time, there was a soothing tone in her voice that calmed them.
"They're good!" I answered, truthfully. My classes were going well. My grades were good. I wasn't lying, but I was definitely trying to sound happier than I really was and I hoped she couldn't tell. "I recently turned in a paper where I argued for that new initiative with deep brain stimulation, and I did really well. Earned the highest grade in my class."
"I expected no less. You're quite masterful with a pen," my mother said. There were more noises from her end of the call, doors opening and closing, people shuffling around. It sounded busy."Did you mean Dr. O'Hara's new neurological project?" my mother asked, excitedly. "You should send her a copy of it! I'm sure she'd love to read it, especially now that her additional funding has been approved by the board."
I smiled as I thought about something like that happening to me someday. Petitioning a board for a grant. Having something I put forth deemed worthy of an in-depth study. Developing a new treatment or technique that could revolutionize modern medicine. It was so exciting. But, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. "I really doubt Dr. O'Hara has the time to read through a paper written by someone who isn't even a med student yet," I said as I shook my head. "But how are you? How's your day going?"
I smiled as my mother took in a deep breath. She always did that before launching into one of her best surgical stories.
This one began with her hands already inside of a patient's chest. "And as I'm holding this old man's old heart, it completely flattens in my hand! Like some sort of... punctured sports ball,. I’m telling you, honey, it looked like someone had pulled every ounce of life out of that thing." She made a small, disapproving sound with her mouth.
"And you were still able to give him a transplant with all the damage he'd done to the last one?" I asked, bewildered at the procedures the transplant team had to follow to make sure the right organs went to the right people. How would someone even begin to determine who should live and who should die like that? TMy mom's velvety voice brought me back to reality.
"That's how it works," she tsaid. "I can't say that I agree with giving him a perfectly viable heart, especially after the way he treated the last one, but it isn't up to me." She spoke with perfect, practiced indifference. She told me that was going to be the part of the job I'd struggle with the most. I cared for other people. I couldn’t always detach emotionally. But she also assured me that caring for people was the source of my power. It was something I was born with that couldn't really be taught. "But you'll learn all about that process in med school, and by the time you're done with that, you'll be a doctor! My little girl, a doctor!" My mother was swooning over the future as I laughed and rolled my eyes.
"Mom, that's years away..."
But, my mom was on a roll. She continued on about the private practice we'd open together. going over every single detail from the name we'd put on the sign above the front door down to the receptionists we'd hire to fetch us coffee and lunch. "And we could get matching business cards that say co-owner and co-owner on them!" she finished with a bright giggle.
"That sounds great, Mom," I said. It did sound great. But, for whatever reason, I was thinking about Nathan.
I pictured him sitting next to me on the couch as my mom rambled on about our business. He'd be there to remind me how amazing it was that my mom believed in my skills enough to go into business with me. Even though I’m not sure I want to do exactly that. Nathan is great at putting things into perspective and I already missed him for that. The twist of guilt in my stomach came back once more as I thought of telling my mom about the real reason I called. I didn't want to tell her that I'd let myself get distracted by a boy—a football player, no less— but I couldn’t help where my minds was at. Would she think less of me as a med student if I told her that something was keeping me from studying for the MCATs?
"And we could get lunch from that sandwich place in the city that you really like!" my mom said. I realized she’d been talking this whole time and I had no idea what about.
“Sounds great, Mom. Maybe on Friday?" I looked over to see the time. "Oh, actually, Mom, I have to go."
"That's okay, honey. I'm swamped over here, too." We quickly said our goodbyes, promising to call more often as we did. As soon as the call ended, I rested my head on the back of the couch and closed my eyes again. Not even a later, my phone vibrated against my leg. I picked it up, expecting to see a message from my mom reminding me to send my paper to Dr. O'Hara, but, instead, Nathan's name popped up.
I took a deep, cleansing breath before reading it. The text wasn't long, but it brought back the twitch in the center of my forehead.
Nathan: Hey, I just wanted to apologize if what I said made you uncomfortable. I don't want to move too fast for you or scare you off, but I needed to be honest.
There was a huge part of me that wanted to woman up and tell him that I felt the same way. That he was always on my mind. That I dreamed of him every night. Nathan was sweet, and I enjoyed spending time with him, but the timing for the two of us just wasn't right. In my near future, I saw nothing but classrooms, exams, internships, residencies, papers, rounds, and patients. I'd worked my whole life to get into medical school. It's been my dream since childhood and I'll be damned if I was going to get distracted by a relationship. If I had meet Nathan just a year earlier, or maybe a few months down the road, this would be different. But now? Impossible. We both had careers to think about.
I started typing before I could talk myself out of it.
Elizabeth: Hi, Nathan.
Even typing his name was difficult. I kept going before I could chicken out. But there was no reason to string him along if I was ready to end things. I wasn't truly ready to part ways with him, but it didn’t change the fact that we both had too much at stake to be distracted by romance. I resumed typing with newfound strength.
Elizabeth: I do understand why you said what you said. I'm glad you were honest, but I just don't feel this is the right time for us.
I reconsidered my last message for a moment, but typed it anyway.
Elizabeth: I think it would be best if we stopped seeing each other.
I heard thewooshsound, telling me that the message was sent and I didn't want to drive myself crazy waiting around for a replay, so I held my finger over the power button and turned off my phone. I never did that. I told myself that the last little vibration was nothing. Just theturning offthing. It definitely wasn't a message from Nathan. I left my phone on top of my desk, knowing I wouldn't need it.
I looked at the clock, grateful that I still had time to get down to the testing center tonight. I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder as I left the dorm apartments. The cold air blew my hair around my face. I kept looking around, on the off chance that Nathan had received my text and had started sprinting toward my room.
Despite the sunshine, the air was so cold that it burned in my throat as I trudged up the main hill on campus. When I reached the testing center, my nose was bright red, and the blonde woman behind the counter straightened in her office chair to greet me. "Hey there. How can I help you today?"
