“No.He did not.”My hand covers my mouth.
“I couldn’t finish the date.Told him what I thought of that and walked out.”
I nearly choke on my martini.
As the hours pass and drinks flow, I feel like my body relaxes.
“Another round?”Liz asks, and I nod, knowing Mom will be at work until late, and I’m not ready to go home to myself.The thoughts of Brant and memories of our time together will return, and I just can’t think about him.I need to focus on my life here.My friends, my mom, my dream job.
We leave the bar a few hours later.I take the subway to the grocery store to grab a few things like vegetables, fruit, new lunch containers, and my creamer.It feels good to do something that I can control.
By the time I get back to Mom’s, I’m carrying two bags and have a slightly fuzzy head.She’s still not home when I unpack everything, then throw together a batch of chili for dinner.The apartment is quiet, it’s exactly what I was dreading.
When Mom finally gets home, she kicks off her shoes and groans dramatically.“You’re an angel,” she says when she sees the food.She comes over and hugs me.I hug her back, closing my eyes, enjoying the comfort of her arms.
“Come sit and eat.You've worked all day.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
We sit together, and she tells me about her crazy day, rude patients, drama coworkers, and a missed lunch break.It's comfortingly ordinary.
Later, I climb into bed, freshly showered, my bag packed for the morning.I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m.and stare at the blinking screen of my phone.
Tomorrow is the start of everything.
My whole life has been leading to this moment.
My dream job at a dream hospital.
I take a deep breath and exhale into the dark, silently hoping that everything I’ve worked for will finally start to make sense.
But still, sleep doesn’t come easy.My mind wanders back to Pulse Point and the first few days there.
Nerves twist in my stomach like a knot.My palms are clammy around the strap of my bag as I step out of the elevator and into the pediatric wing.
I pause in the corridor, just for a second, inhaling the scent of the familiar antiseptic.Okay,I whisper to myself.You can do this.
Keeping my head up, I walk down the hall, trying to remember to breathe.
The pediatric ward is huge.The floors, the monitors, even the damn IV poles are sleek.It’s state-of-the-art, no doubt about it.It reminds me of the new expansion at Pulse Point, with the bright colors and attention to detail, but this is on another level entirely.Bigger, polished, and impersonal.And while it’s a little intimidating, it’s also exhilarating.Every piece of equipment I’ve ever dreamed of using is right here.
Someone calls my name, and I’m ushered through introductions.Nurses, interns, two attending doctors, whose names I instantly forget.Everyone’s friendly in that New York way… efficient, polite, and mildly distracted.
There’s no Brant here.No mentor standing in the wings, ready to catch me if I trip.No subtle glances across the break room.No one asking what I think before telling me the answer.No one pushing me to make the call myself.The attending I’m shadowing today just tells me what to do.Explains the procedure, demonstrates, moves on.
I swallow that truth and nod along, smiling when I’m supposed to.I won’t judge anyone yet.I don’t even know where I fit in, and I’m okay with that because these things take time.
By mid-morning, I’m already thrown into the deep end, charting, assisting on rounds, catching snippets of whispered jokes and hospital shorthand I haven’t learned yet.It’s chaos, and I love it.
I introduce myself to a couple of nurses, Juniper and Seraphina, near the supply room.They’re kind, quick with a smile, and one even compliments my kindness and ability to keep up as a new resident.It feels rehearsed, like something they say to every new resident on their first day.But I smile anyway, taking the compliment, and it helps a little.
By the end of my shift, I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline.My feet ache, but my heart is full.I ride the subway home with the city lights blurring past the windows and Pulse Point still lingering in my mind.
That night, Mom makes lasagna and asks about my day while we eat.I offer her the edited highlights, but the warmth in her eyes tells me she knows it was a big day.
I crash into bed not long after, nerves still buzzing as I try to calm my mind.Tomorrow’s another chance to find my footing.To prove I made the right choice.
The ward becomes a little more familiar as the days slip into a week.My name’s on the roster now, I know which nurses like which coffee orders, and I’ve stopped having to ask where to find the right supply closets.
