Anatomy of a Meet Cute by Addie Woolridge

Chapter Five

Sam dropped the mail on the kitchen counter for her roommates and opened the fridge, feeling exhaustion creep into her every movement. She had gone looking for Dr. Franklin right after talking to Grant. And then she went looking for him again after seeing a few more patients, and again after filing some paperwork. She even went looking after their outpatient-report meeting. By about the fifth pass through, the head of general surgery finally took pity on her and let her know that Dr. Franklin was most likely gone for the day. Not to be deterred—or let Grant say I told you so—Sam broke down and sent Dr. Franklin an email asking when he’d be around. So far, she hadn’t heard anything, but she had only been relentlessly checking her email for two hours, so there was still time.

Grabbing an apple off one of the shelves, Sam was in the middle of cursing herself for whatever wild notion had made her decide not to get snack food at the grocery store when her phone rang. She exhaled as Mom scrolled across the screen, accompanied by a photo of a woman wearing too much hair spray and blue eye shadow in a hospital bed, holding baby Sam and smiling next to her father, whose dark skin made her mother look even more pale than her freckles implied. Her father wore his favorite old T-shirt from the navy and had a hand on her older brother’s chest, ostensibly to keep the mischievous-looking toddler from bolting around the room long enough to take Sam’s first family photo.

The picture made her smile. Her mom hadn’t called since Los Angeles, and Sam had started to wonder if she would ever speak to her again. As controlling as her mom could be, Sam missed her laugh, the text messages with the beautiful photos she took of their garden back home, and the regular report on their cat-obsessed neighbor, which was only complete with her mother’s color commentary. Their relationship was rocky, but Sam knew her mom’s forgiveness and love could be earned with the right combination of humor and deference to her judgment.

“Hi, Mom, what’s going on?”

“Hi, Sammy. How are you?”

“Good. I just got home and am trying to figure out whether I want to snack or shower first.” Sam chuckled as she pulled a knife from the drawer. Putting her mother on speaker, she began slicing her apple as she spoke. “How are things on your end?”

“Things are fantastic. Your father mentioned he got a text from you, and I knew I had to call.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam murmured, still focusing on the apple. For years, her dad had played the family-moderator role. He kept up with both her and her brother and tried to curb some of her mom’s more extreme impulses. It never really worked, but Sam appreciated that he tried.

“He said you were asking for a status report on one of Mrs. Morrow’s cats. Pretty sure you wanted an update about the latest antics of Precious, a.k.a. the wicked beast that has started breaking into our garage to steal our canned food.”

“Better or worse than when he peed in the shed?” Sam asked, imagining the smush-faced cat howling at their Costco stash of soup.

“Is it possible for it to be worse?” Diana laughed. “Anyway, I just got off the phone with your brother. You know he is helping me organize a little reunion for our retired navy friends in Southern California? We are even going to blow up my photos from our time there and put them on display.” Sam hadn’t known that. She and Isaiah generally avoided talking about their mom, unless it was to share tips from their respective therapists, friends, or memes.

“So exciting.”

“Well, it gave me an idea. Why shouldn’t we do the same thing in Northern California? Wouldn’t want our friends on the other end of the state to feel left out, would we.”

“It could be a good idea,” Sam hedged as she opened the freezer, praying to find some forgotten ice cream in there. No such luck. “Or you could always invite them to LA, make a big weekend of it.”

There was silence on the other end, and regret filled Sam’s lungs. She knew better than to make suggestions when her mother clearly had a plan. Bracing for a potential storm, she added, “But yeah, a party in the Bay could be fun too.”

“I’m so glad you agree, because I was thinking it could be a fun project for you and me to work on together.” Her words sounded tight, as if Sam not jumping up and down over the prospect annoyed her.

“What did you have in mind?” Sam stopped hunting around for food, giving her mother her full attention. She didn’t have much time, but a joint project always made her mother happy. It was how Sam had ended up painting her bedroom lavender when she was sixteen. Did Sam like the color? No. But her mother did, and the trade-off meant that Sam could get her driver’s license, so it was worth it. Kind of.

“Nothing big. Isaiah is helping me find a venue in LA since I don’t live there. I was thinking you could do the same thing in San Francisco. Then just a bit of help with planning and such. But only the easy stuff.”

Sam’s mind began spinning as her mother listed every retired navy member within three hundred miles of San Francisco who should be invited to the party. This reunion didn’t sound small. And of course Isaiah was doing all this for her. He always cracked under family pressure. All Mom had to do was pack for the shortest of guilt trips, and off he went. If Sam didn’t help, she’d be in the doghouse again, and who knew how long it would be before her mother spoke to her this time.

“I really want to help, but I just don’t think I can plan a big thing. My fellowship is really starting to get busy, and I have this program I want to start. The hospital—”

“Oh no, Sammy. This wouldn’t be a big ask. Really, I am thinking something low key.”

“I know you think it’s low key. But—”

“I get it, Sam.” Her mother’s voice went cold with disappointment, and she could almost feel the relationship door slamming in her face. “You’re too busy. You have your own life to focus on.”

“Mom, I want to do it. I just can’t take on too much.”

“No, no, no. Really, Sammy, don’t worry about it. You moved out to California to focus on your career, and you’re on track with your personal goals. My little party isn’t your work. I get it. Truly, I do.”

Her mother always did this—say something stunningly passive aggressive in a soothing tone so that it was hard to argue.

Sam’s mind began to spin and crack. She didn’t really want to do this, but Diana’s demands were clear. The party was her one chance to get back into her mother’s good graces. Admittedly, Sam wished that her mother’s forgiveness could be purchased with a pedicure and some girl talk, but after more than two months of silence, she would take what she could get.

“Mom, you can still have the party, and I can help. I just can’t handle every logistical detail.” Sam heard herself begin to break. Hadn’t she just said she didn’t have time to help? She needed to get off the phone before her arm was fully twisted and tied behind her back. Duke had called her stubborn, but clearly he’d never seen her with her mother.

“I appreciate that, sweetheart; I really do. But I just don’t see the point in having a party when I don’t know the area like someone who lives there.”

“I have been here for all of two months. I hardly think that qualifies—”

“It’s a shame. But you’re right. Your work has to come first. I was being selfish.”

Sam flinched. Diana Holbrook had spent the majority of her time propping up the family, packing and unpacking the house. She hadn’t even had a chance to have a career until after Sam’s dad retired and they settled in Ohio when Sam was in the seventh grade. Even then, her mom went back and got her teaching credential and became a high school biology teacher, helping pay the bills while Sam’s dad retooled his résumé. Then she continued to work, putting Sam and Isaiah through college. Her mother was difficult, but she wasn’t selfish.

“No, Mom. You really aren’t being selfish. I’m just so slammed.” Sam gritted her teeth over the sound of her mother’s resigned sigh.

“Forget I even said anything.” The enthusiasm had completely deflated from her mother’s tone.

Closing her eyes, Sam left her apple on the counter and dropped herself onto the couch. “Honestly, Mom, I can help. It’s no big deal. I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? Because I wouldn’t want you to feel put out.”

Too late for that.“I’ll make it work. I’m sure Isaiah has some pointers too.”

“Well, if you are sure . . .”

“One hundred percent,” Sam said, sinking lower onto the couch. Sure, she’d fudged the decimal point on that number a bit. But really, 10 percent and 100 percent were not that far apart.

“Oh, Sammy. Thank you. This is going to be so much fun! I’ll send you what I am thinking, and we can go from there. Sound good?”

“Sure does.” She was lucky her mother didn’t pick up on anything other than a sentence that had her name in front of it, or Diana would have realized that she was as excited about this party as she was about eating the apple she had sliced up.

“All right, sweetheart. Well, I need to run, but take care of yourself.”

“Love you.”

“Bye!”

Her mother breezed off the phone just in time to miss Sam sighing like a duchess in a novel from the 1800s. So much for avoiding the guilt trip. If anything, her mother would ask her to buy a whole new wardrobe for it. Pushing herself off the couch, Sam shuffled back into the kitchen and yanked open a cupboard. Spotting Duke’s peanut butter, she felt her heart lift as she reached for the jar with only a little remorse and a silent promise to buy him some more Jif before he noticed it was gone. Sure, she was stuck with the adult equivalent of a lavender room, but at least she had something to make her apple worthwhile.