Page 22 of Dr. Intern

“It is when you have to remember all of their names.”

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Before I meet Parker for his surgery marathon, I make a quick stop at the cafeteria. His caseload has been heavy since he returned from his time off, and I don’t anticipate a break at all today. While Parker may be a robot who can power through without basic needs like food, I’m at the mercy of my blood sugar and have to make sure I plan accordingly.

Deciding on a breakfast biscuit and a handful of snacks for between cases, I swipe my card and plop down in a quiet corner of the cafeteria for a moment of peace before the insane day. The plush booth squeaks as I slide in, and despite the sterile appearance, it’s incredibly comfortable.

If I could just close my eyes . . .

As I’m about to nod off, my phone rings, Luke Bryan blasting from the pocket of my scrub pants.

“Hang on a sec, Mom,” I say into the phone as I place it on the table and put in my headphones. “You still there?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yep, I’ve got you. Sorry, I’m in the cafeteria,” I explain, pulling out my biscuit and taking a huge bite.

I hear tapping on her end, followed by a brief pause. “Sorry, was just texting with the realtor,” she says, sounding distracted.

I’m too tired to delve into her comment, so I just grunt in response, focusing on my food.

“Beauregard, I can hear you chewing through the phone. Can this not wait a moment? I swear, it’s like I completely dropped the ball on teaching you manners.”

I swallow my bite quickly to reply, slightly annoyed. “You’re the one who’s always on me about my A1C. I feel like you should be glad that I’m nourishing my body.”

She huffs into the phone. “I would be if you weren’t putting complete crap into it. I swear your numbers are worse than an eighty-year-old man.”

She’s wrong—nobody that’s eighty years old has type one diabetes because insulin has only been around commercially for fifty years. They would likely have died long before they made it to their forties.

For some reason, my mom has been on my ass about my A1C since I started residency. It’s like she’s channeling all of her energy into me now that she’s retired. Honestly, considering she isn’t pulling thirty hours straight without sleep every couple of days, I don’t think she can judge what I put into my body.

I’m just doing my best to make sure I don’t pass out, regardless of the nutritional value of the food. Plus, they’re already working on an artificial pancreas, so in five years I won’t have to manage any of this shit on my own.

“Did you call just to lecture me?” I ask, half-joking and half-serious. “Because while this has been a pleasure, I’ve got a case soon.”

“Oh, of course, I live to point out your flaws,” she retorts sarcastically.

I smirk. “Glad you finally admit it.”

“You exhaust me,” she sighs, clearly tired of our conversation, which is a good thing because I need to get my ass to the OR. “The reason I’m calling is because your father and I are coming home early.”

I take a sip of my lukewarm coffee. “Remind me where y’all even are?”

It’s been months since they’ve been home, and it’s not like keeping up with them on my mother’s blog has been at the top of my priority list.

“London,” she replies swiftly. “We booked a flight home tomorrow because we’re meeting with our realtor this weekend. Someone made an offer on the house that we just can’t refuse, and we need to be out by the end of the month.”

I nearly spit out my coffee as I look down at my watch. It’s already the twentieth.

“It’s not what we intended, of course. We wanted to keep the house for you to live in while you were in residency, but our realtor said we would be incredibly foolish if we didn’t take the deal. You know how the housing market is right now.”

Yep—the Atlanta housing market is at the top of my mind at all times.

My mind races as I work through what this means for me. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate already, now I need to find somewhere to live at the last minute.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“And where will you two stay?” I ask, hoping they have something else lined up already. My mom is a planner so I can’t imagine she would accept an offer without a plan B.

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