Page 148 of The Clinch
Not enough to make me comfortable. Enough to make me feel less singular.
We get sent to another room for white coat sizing. The sight of the short white coats rattles me more than I want it to.
Back in the hallway, I check my phone and find half a dozen emails, two portal notifications, and a class GroupMe already moving faster than seems reasonable for people who met three hours ago.
AMELIA
Anyone want to grab coffee?
A few people answer immediately.
Nia turns to me at the same time. “A bunch of us are going downstairs. You coming?”
I almost say no out of instinct, because there is always a schedule and always the next thing, and because the habit of moving with purpose is so old in me, it can pass for personality.
Then I stop.
This matters. The small beginning. The first names that might become familiar. The first coffee that might turn into a study group or a friendship, or simply the relief of one face I recognize next week when everything feels harder.
After losing the Olympics, the pregnancy, my name, and the entire version of my life I thought I was building, I have finally fought my way back to a path I wanted before everything went sideways. Not because it came easily. Because I refused to let the worst thing that ever happened to me be the end of me.
Becoming a doctor is not what I settled for. It’s the dream that survived.
Standing in the hallway of the Grossman School of Medicine, I let myself think one reckless, fragile thought.
Maybe this life is big enough for both.
My phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me up short.
EDEN
Just finished with Lukas downtown
Heading to Brooklyn to work on Leo
Want a ride back?
The message holdsme up short while the hallway keeps flowing past. Leo is nowhere near me, and somehow the shape of him still changes the air.
Students drift toward the elevators in loose clusters. Voices overlap in that bright, slightly frantic way people sound whenthey are trying to make new acquaintances feel effortless. Nia is still beside me. Mateo is saying something about the anatomy lab that Rebecca seems to find either fascinating or horrifying.
I should stay.
For once, the answer feels simple. I should go downstairs with them, stand in line for coffee, learn two more names, maybe laugh at one joke that makes next week feel less anonymous.
But I’m already shot. My brain feels overfilled, my social battery frayed at the edges, my smile one polite exchange away from giving out.
Choosing the familiar feels easier. Worse, it feels good. That’s what makes me hesitate.
The typing bubble appears.
EDEN
No pressure
Just thought I’d offer before you melt on First Av
I laughbefore I think better of it.
