Lois, the most seasoned nurse in the unit, narrows her eyes at me over the top of her computer screen. Her reaction is why I had to sneak up here in the first place. Everyone knows what today is.
I give her a big smile. Lois commands more respect than half the doctors I know. Her glares could weaken the knees of anyone wearing a white coat, but I like to think she and I have a special bond after working together off and on these last five years.
“Evening, Lois,” I singsong. “How are you?”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she says flatly.
Lois isn’t one to mince words. I once thought she was smiling at me, but it turned out she was only inspecting her teeth with the back of a spoon, making sure nothing was wedged in there after lunch.
I lean across the counter and try to see whose file she has open on the computer.
She angles the screen away from me.
“Lois, c’mon. Is that Camila’s chart? I tried to look at it in the system but my log-in won’t work on any of the computers.”
“That’s because Dr. Patel had IT disable it until Monday. He knew you’d be up here, sniffing around. You just can’t help yourself.” She has this uncanny ability to speak as if your mere existence on Earth is enough to grate on her nerves.
“Are you serious?” My eyes go wide. “They can do that?”
“As far as I know, it’s the first time it’s ever been done. Consider yourself special.”
She goes back to typing, her lips pursed in a tight line.
“C’mon. This is how you’re going to treat me after five years? What about all those laughs we shared?” There were no laughs. “And the inside jokes?” Again, none. “I know I was your favorite resident, even if you didn’t say so.”
She slowly raises her gaze back to me, and her tough exterior gives way a fraction of an inch. She’s a glacier thawing in spring when she speaks again. “Honestly, what are you still doing here anyway? Isn’t it your big night tonight?”
I check my watch. Shoot. Sneaking around the hospital took longer than expected.
I have to be at the hotel in an hour.
That’s not much time. Panicked, I lean forward to get a better look at the patient chart she’s working with. My feet dangle off the floor. “Can’t you just tell me what they decided for Camila’s treatment? Did an attending lead afternoon rounds? So help me, if those fourth years forgot to—”
She rips the chart out of my grasp.
“Dr. Martin, they’ve got it covered. And even if they don’t, we do,” she says, nodding toward the nursing staff behind her. “I promise. Now go, and I’ll see you on Monday.”
Right. Well.
I slowly slide off the counter, knowing I’ve been defeated. I have no choice but to leave the care of these patients in the hands of other people, at least for one night. I have somewhere to be.
I tip my head to Lois and turn to sluggishly trudge out of the unit, knowing it’ll be the last time I do it as a fifth-year general surgery resident. Come Monday, I’ll begin my year-long fellowship in pediatric burn surgery. The power is already rushing to my head. I’m daydreaming of all the grunt work I’ll pass on to the interns when I hear my name called across the hallway.
“Natalie! Nat-a-lie. Earth to Natalie!”
I shake myself out of my stupor just in time to avoid a collision with my closest friend, Dr. Lindsey Brooks.
She works in the hospital’s OB/GYN department. Though we graduated medical school together, she’s already an attending because her residency was only four years. Now she spends her days delivering babies and playing the superhero. Instead of red and blue Superman spandex, she wears bubblegum pink scrubs. Her hair is naturally pale blonde, and even now—after a full day at work—it’s pulled up into a high sleek ponytail that swishes when she walks. She gives off the perpetual hyperactive energy of someone who’s had too much caffeine. On paper, we shouldn’t be friends, and yet we’re soulmates.
“I was coming to find you.” She looks deeply concerned. “Someone said they saw you hiding behind a plant down in the lobby.”
“What?” I try to sound incredulous. “No. That wasn’t me.”
To save me from further embarrassment, she pretends to believe me.
“What are you still doing here?”
I shrug and glance away, feeling defensive. “I wanted to come check on my patients.”
“Seriously? They give you a weekend off and you aren’t even going to take it? You should be getting ready right now, dolling yourself up.” She glances down at my clothes. “Tell me you aren’t going to wear your scrubs to the ceremony.”
Honestly, I thought about it, but I still act deeply affronted by her accusation. “Of course not. I have a dress and heels in my bag.”
It’s the same dress I wore to my college graduation, my white coat ceremony, my medical school graduation, and now my graduation from residency. I thought about ordering a new dress the other day, but I was on call and it slipped my mind. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with Ol’ Faithful. It’s simple and black and sleeveless. It hugs my figure and cuts off below my knees. It’s acceptable for any occasion. I’ll probably be buried in it.
“I really wish I could be there tonight,” Lindsey says, looping her arm around my shoulders.
I see right through her. She’s acting chummy, but really, she’s maneuvering me away from the BICU knowing I might turn around and find my way back there if she doesn’t force me away.
Lindsey’s on call tonight. She tried to get one of the other attendings to swap shifts with her, but no one was available. Good friend that she is, she’s been beating herself up about it all week.
“Linds, it’s fine. Noah will be there.”
She frowns. “Just Noah? Your parents didn’t fly in?”
“I didn’t even tell them about it. It’s not a big deal.”
She narrows her eyes reproachfully. “It is, Natalie. It’s a very big deal.”
It doesn’t feel that way. It’s just one more step on the way to my end goal: Dr. Natalie Martin, premier burn surgeon, best in the world. Natalie, the surgeon general is calling again, asking for advice! will be a thing I hear often. This whole ceremony isn’t necessary. I’d prefer if they just handed me a Xeroxed certificate during rounds, stamped my forehead with a gold star, and let me get on with my work.
“If nothing else, you’ve paid for this night, so enjoy it. Have a drink for me.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She forces me into a hug—oh God, make it stop—before she has to run to check on a laboring mom. Down in a stall in the lobby bathroom, I take extra care with my white coat, sliding it off and folding it up neatly, brushing a stray piece of lint off the collar before I rip off my hospital-issued navy scrubs.
Once it’s tugged on over my head, I realize my dress is tighter around the bust than it used to be, but it still fits fine. I take my hair down from my ponytail and know without looking in a mirror that the medium-length brown strands are curly (genetics) and crinkled (ponytail holder), so I smooth it into a low knot at the base of my neck and call it a day.
I don’t worry about makeup. Lindsey curses my olive skin and dark lashes, swearing she’d swap her features for mine any day. I don’t think much about it, honestly, but it is nice to not have to worry about smeared eyeliner or caked-on foundation when I spend my days in a burn unit that’s heated to a balmy 85 degrees to keep the patients comfortable.