Anatomy of a Meet Cute by Addie Woolridge
Chapter Two
Sam tumbled through the door of her third-floor walk-up, sweaty. Why had she let her stupid pride get in the way of sharing a ride with Grant? He could have berated her for twenty-five straight minutes, and it would have made the absurd BART-to-Muni-to-hiking-up-the-Potrero-Hill-of-doom trek home seem like the foxtrot. Really, the two flights of stairs up to her shared apartment were just salt in a very open judgment wound.
“Look who’s back,” Duke’s low voice called from the living room, where he and their other roommate, Jehan, were sprawled on the couches, his beloved Louisiana State University Tigers baseball game on at top volume.
“Hey,” Sam called, closing the front door with her sneaker. After shoving her suitcase down the narrow hallway that led to their bedrooms and the shared bathroom, she turned and marched toward the couch, then flopped onto the empty space next to her roommate with a muffled thud.
“How was LA? And your mom? Was she still”—Jehan paused, wiggling her perfectly shaped eyebrows—“weird about the move?”
“Not as weird as I expected. Mom just sort of pretended that she hasn’t stopped speaking to me, which was strange because then she’d do things like pass Isaiah the salt to give to me when I asked for it. But whatever. On the upside, my brother seems happy,” Sam said, letting her eyes come to rest on the TV remote just as Duke picked it up to turn down the volume. Her brother had left for Los Angeles about six months before she’d moved. To say her mother took the news of his departure poorly would have been generous. When Sam moved to the Bay Area to start her fellowship, her mother had gone nuclear. Starting with a fit of tears that rapidly turned into a series of but-you-can’t-even-make-a-frittata-how-will-you-survive-on-your-own phone calls, and when that didn’t work, the silent treatment.
Sam would be lying if she said the cold shoulder hadn’t broken her heart. In the past, she would have even given in to her mother’s demands, but she couldn’t be in two places at once. She would figure out how to make it in the Bay Area, and her mother would adjust sooner or later. Maybe.
“Okay, but she didn’t freak out on you again?” Duke asked. There was less wiggle in his eyebrows but just as much curiosity in his tone.
“No. I think the tantrum-throwing phase is officially over. Now it’s just the awkward let’s-talk-at-Christmas phase.” Sam laughed, mostly to cover up the sting. Diana Holbrook had basically put her daughter on ice once Sam accepted a highly coveted spot as a research fellow with San Francisco Central Hospital. She’d done the first phase of her residency in a public hospital back in Ohio before applying for the fellowship. At SF Central she would learn how to run her own research program focusing on pregnancy and public policy interventions. This wasn’t training that she could get just anywhere, but as far as her mother was concerned, she could deliver babies in Akron just the same as she could in San Francisco.
“Did your mom actually say let’s talk at Christmas?” Jehan asked. If Sam hadn’t known the shock on her face was sincere, she would have laughed. Jehan genuinely thought the best of everyone, including the semiferal cats outside their apartment that tried to claw her face off if she got within ten feet.
“Not in so many words,” Sam said, kicking her legs out in front of her. Her roommates knew that as fickle as her mother sounded, Sam missed her. Sure, her mom had a list of expectations a mile long that Sam never seemed to meet, but she was also loving when she wanted to be. After all, this was the same woman who’d read Sam one children’s book about thirty-five times a day without complaint for six months. Never mind that Sam had the book memorized. It was the sound of her mother’s voice that was comforting, especially when her dad was away and her brother had the nerve to go to big-kid school without her.
Sam scratched at a fray in the fabric of the couch, trying to decide how to explain their complicated relationship. “I think my brother hoped we’d all eat tacos and hug it out, but Mom’s not there yet.”
“Do you think she’ll ever come around?” A crease formed along either side of Jehan’s mouth as she frowned.
“Maybe.” Sam stopped pulling at the fabric, then said, “But in my experience, it’s better to just let her come to you. Mom’s a fine line you have to walk. If I ask her for anything, she thinks I’m incompetent. But if I don’t ask for enough, she thinks I’ve forgotten she exists. Better to just let sleeping dogs lie.”
“That’s blood, Sam. You’ll have to work it out, eventually.” Duke’s southern drawl wrapped around her. The guy managed to be both relentlessly pragmatic and good humored at all times. It was part of the reason why Sam had agreed to room with him and Jehan after exactly three seconds of talking to them during the hospital’s informal New Fellows Weekend.
“Eventually being the key word.” Sam smiled and eyed her friend, who scratched a day’s worth of fine stubble clinging to his chin before stretching up.
“Sounds like you’re just bein’ stubborn, but have it your way.” He grinned, the deep lines of his smile stretching across the dark skin of his otherwise ageless face.
“I will, thank you.” Sam smiled. Noticing the papers spread out in front of Jehan, she asked, “What’s all that?”
Jehan lit up like the Bat-Signal, a massive grin crossing her face. “They are marriage license applications.” She paused for dramatic effect, and Sam could have sworn she saw Duke flinch. “Because Travis asked me to marry him!”
“Oh. Wow,” Sam said, forcing brightness into her tone. Her roommate’s engagement was the exact opposite of what she’d hoped would happen. Travis had come with Jehan to the New Fellows Weekend, and he left Sam and Duke with a sour taste in their mouths. After spending six minutes with the guy, Sam decided he was clingy and controlling. He spent three-quarters of the weekend asking Jehan why she couldn’t stay in Washington, DC, where he worked as an analyst for a bank, and the last quarter glaring at anyone who didn’t recognize him as the sole reason Jehan was matched with such a prestigious program. This last part was nearly impossible to give him credit for, since Jehan was an actual badass.
“That is so exciting. Can I hug you?” Sam asked, standing up and forcing Duke to take his feet off the ottoman so she could reach her friend, who bounced off the couch like she was a rubber ball.
“Yes! Thank you. I didn’t expect it at all,” Jehan said, hugging Sam as if her excitement were transferable.
“How did it happen?” Sam asked, pulling back and reaching for Jehan’s left hand.
“Oh, I don’t have a ring yet. He asked me over Zoom.” Sam could almost hear Duke’s eyes rolling from across the room, but that didn’t slow Jehan’s joy. “I guess he was just so excited about the idea that he couldn’t wait until he saw me next.”
“Smart man,” Duke said, a good-natured look scrawled across his face as if he were reminding Sam to act ecstatic, before standing up and shuffling toward the kitchen, the top of his six-foot-four frame nearly grazing a low-hanging light fixture as he went.
“Well, that is fantastic.” Sam took a step back so she could see Jehan’s face. “I know it just happened, but have you thought about a date at all?”
Jehan’s smile faltered slightly, but she picked it up so fast Sam hardly had time to notice. “Well, that’s being discussed. He wants to get married ASAP. I believe his exact words were ‘let’s wait just long enough to prove you are not pregnant.’” She laughed, shaking her long hair over her shoulder. “But I want something more traditional, the whole big Egyptian engagement party, and then set a date.”
Sam smiled. “Obviously it’s up to you two, but—”
“I’d throw the party,” Duke shouted from his room, interrupting Sam as she searched for nicer words to say the same thing.
Rolling her eyes, Sam called back, “You already had your chance to weigh in last week.” From somewhere down the hall, Duke chuckled as she turned her attention back to her friend. “But Duke is right. Take your time with this. Planning a wedding during the first year of your fellowship seems like a lot . . . unless you’re secretly pregnant?”
Jehan laughed at Sam’s half-assed attempt at a joke. “No. Although throwing a big engagement party is probably just as much work as my fellowship.”
“Yeah, but it’s work you want to do,” Sam said, releasing her hands. “Besides, didn’t you, like, triple major while working two jobs in undergrad?”
“It was a double major,” Jehan snorted as if the adjustment made her less impressive.
“But one was in nanorobotics,” Duke said, walking out of his bedroom. “Sam, didn’t you read the Meet the Hospital guide?”
“No. Why would I read that? I am going to meet everyone at orientation and then get stuck asking about their hobbies anyway. Easier to honestly not know than to act like I don’t while people repeat themselves.”
Duke gave Jehan a sideways look. “Twenty bucks says she is gonna ask to borrow your face flash cards.”
“You made flash cards? Who are you?”
“Someone who majored in nanorobotics and worked in a remote village to improve emergency medical outcomes using cell phone technology from 1995,” Duke answered for their roommate.
“The old-tech part wasn’t in the guide,” Jehan said, giving Duke a quizzical look.
“Some people make flash cards; I LinkedIn stalk.” Duke shrugged over the sound of Sam’s laughter.
Turning to look at her, Duke said, “So, Mini Martha Stewart, you gonna clean the bathroom today, or was all that sparkle-tape chore chart for fun?”
“It’s called washi tape, and it is both fun and functional,” Sam said, glancing lovingly at her chore chart. “Besides, the schedule was Jehan’s idea. I just made it appealing.”
“Don’t blame that pink-glitter chart on her. And if that glitter ends up in my hair or anywhere on my face, you better let me know,” Duke said, eyeing the thing hanging on the fridge with mistrust.
“Do you really think I’d have you out here looking like a Christmas tree?” Sam joked before hooking her hand on her hip and adding, “Yes, I’m gonna clean the shower. Why, do you want to get in first?”
“If he isn’t showering, I want to shower,” Jehan piped up.
“Now hang on.” Duke held up a hand. “Are you washing your hair, ’cause if that takes you four hours—”
“I’ll clean the shower, but y’all have to keep me company while I do it, ’cause I need to tell someone about the ridiculous plane ride I just had. It involved magic mushrooms and a fight with another doctor.”
“Wait. What? How did you not lead with that?” Jehan asked, her incredulous tone filling the cracks between the floorboards in the living room.
“Honestly, I was so tired from coming up that hill that it sort of slipped my mind.” Sam shrugged, making her way toward the hallway closet.
“Well, I wish you had remembered, because now we have to try and squeeze all three of us into that tiny bathroom,” Jehan sighed.
“I second that. Get out your little toothbrush, your rubber gloves, and your homemade cleaning products, Dr. Holbrook.” Duke could joke, but Sam had never met anyone who loved to be tidy more than him. He would put her father’s naval precision to shame.
Sam smiled at her two new roommates. Sure, she still had a week’s worth of Los Angeles dirt to wash off her clothes and a full day of New Staff Orientation to think about, but before she could stress about the future, she had at least an hour’s worth of laughing to do with two people she wished had entered her life much sooner.
“See ya,” Jehan called over her shoulder as they walked into the shiny hospital building. Her research would focus on examining the efficacy of low-cost nanotechnologies to help patients in emergency medicine, while Sam and Duke had the same obstetrics and gynecology focus. Duke would be spending his time looking at data on former cancer patients who were pregnant and receiving care in public-hospital settings. Meanwhile, Sam was hoping to develop and analyze direct intervention methods to improve outcomes for marginalized pregnant people. It was wild to think of tiny, lovely Jehan tracking how robots could help with gruesome gunshot wounds and kitchen accidents. Then again, Jehan seemed thrilled, so who was Sam to judge?
The three of them had spent the morning huddling in the general New Staff Orientation and learning about the basics of time cards, which didn’t really apply to them, and how to blow the whistle on HR concerns, which would apply to them, although Sam hoped she wouldn’t need the information. Now, facing down the doors of her specialty orientation, Sam felt the butterflies return in full force.
“I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna run to the bathroom. Save me a seat, yeah?” Sam said to Duke, not really waiting for an answer before dashing to the blue door marked RESTROOM.
Walking into the first available stall, she sat down. Feeling green around the gills, Sam closed her eyes, forcing herself to take three deep breaths to try to get a handle on the butterfly rampage inside herself. God, she wanted this to go better than the plane. This was a chance to redeem herself and prove she wasn’t nearly as helpless as Mark the Mushroom Man had made her feel. All she had ever wanted was to help people, and in a few minutes, she would be one step closer to her own panel of patients.
Opening her eyes, she walked out of the stall and began washing her hands. Even though she was half-Black, anxiety had robbed her skin of enough color that she looked gray. Using a damp paper towel, she wiped a bit of stray mascara out from under her brown eyes, fussed with the tight curls in her ponytail, then pinched some life back into her cheeks. Taking one more deep breath, she pulled the bathroom door open and dashed across the hall to the conference room the new fellows and residents were gathering in.
Spotting Duke, Sam slunk past a few semifamiliar faces until she reached the chair he’d saved for her and dropped into it with a noisy exhale.
“Doing okay?” Duke whispered. “You look pale.”
“Fine. Just nerves. Gotta make up for the—”
The conference room door whooshed open, halting Sam midspeech. Her mouth went dry. Somewhere in her chest, the butterflies she had recently caught began pummeling her heart, causing it to beat erratically against the lump in her throat.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Duke hissed, eyeing her with concern.
“Hi, everyone, let’s get started.”
For a moment, Sam almost let herself believe that he wasn’t there. That the clipboard in his hands wasn’t actually happening to her. At least, until she heard his voice. That same velvety tenor. It had no sharp edges but gave no ground either.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Grant Gao, a senior fellow and an attending here at SF Central Hospital completing my specialist training in maternal-fetal medicine and emergency surgery. A little later today you will also hear from the head of our residency and fellowship programs, chief attending physician Dr. Howie Franklin.” Grant looked up from his clipboard briefly, and Sam felt herself sink to the bottom of her chair. Why did Duke have to pick seats so close to the front of the room?
“We’re just gonna get through a quick roll call to make sure no one is lost; then we will get down to business. Is Sophia Beck here?”
As Sophia raised her hand, Duke leaned over, oblivious to how much attention he was drawing to them, and whispered, “What are you doing? Are you all right?”
“Faith Choi?”
Sam fought the urge to shove him back toward his seat as she hissed, “That’s the guy from the plane.”
“You got in a fight with the senior fellow?” Duke said, his voice creeping above a whisper as his body started shaking with silent laughter.
“Michael Gordon?”
“Don’t laugh. I have to get out of here. Do you think it is too late to be assigned to the emergency—”
“Michael? There you are. Welcome, Michael.”
“This is too good. I gotta text Jehan.”
“Samantha Holbrook.”
Sam wasn’t sure that she had ever prayed so hard for a sinkhole to magically appear and swallow her whole. As the silence stretched around the room, Sam sat up and raised her hand, silently cursing any god she could think of for failing to strike the building with lightning so powerful they would be left in complete darkness.
“Ah.” The single syllable hung in the air between them for what felt like one hundred seconds, making the lump in her throat turn over a few times, as a lazy smile crossed Grant’s face. “Hello again, Sam. Or should I say, Dr. Holbrook. Nice to see you.”
“Hello,” Sam croaked. Next to her, Duke was nearly falling out of his chair with the effort it took not to cackle.
“It looks like we’ll have plenty of time to work through all of the tools that can be helpful if anyone ever needs you on a plane again.” Dr. Gao chuckled, then said, “Right, moving on.”
Sam tried to swallow her humiliation and started coughing instead. Duke reached over to thump her back, still grinning and holding his phone. Risking a glance upward, she almost kicked herself. Of course Grant had the nerve to stand there looking dapper in scrubs, as if they suited him better than any tuxedo could. And of course he and his stupidly perfect bone structure would mention her failing in front of all her new coworkers.
Duke slid his phone in front of her, pulling her out of her mortification-induced trance, right as Grant called, “Duke Washington?”
Looking down at the phone, Sam read Jehan’s response to Duke’s text:
So, we are stopping on the way home for shame ice cream tonight, yes?
Sam nodded her head at Duke so hard that her ponytail shook. If nothing else, at least she had some friends to help her pick up the pieces of her dignity. The thought almost made her smile. In fact, she was halfway there when Grant said, “All right. We’re all here, so if you’ll just stick close to me, I’ll give you a tour.”
Pushing back from the chair, Sam stood up and gathered what was left of her pride. She was not going to let Grant make her feel useless. She had her mother for that. And she hadn’t spent the last few months calling her father only when she knew her mother was out just to let Grant scare her into failing now. Nope. Instead, she would prove both of them wrong. Trudging to the door, careful to look Grant in the eye and smile as she crossed the threshold. It should have been an act of defiance, but the smile he sent back made her face heat up all over again.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Sam turned toward Duke and said, “You better tell Jehan we’ll need to add wine to the list.”
Without missing a beat, Duke’s laugh rumbled behind her. “Already taken care of. Hang in there.”