Page 20 of Lily In The Valley
“What hospital are they bringing him to?” My nerves amped up even further. I rushed to change out of my scrubs.
“Memorial Hermann downtown. Meet me there, Kelly. If they tell me something bad, I won’t be able to take it.”
“Of course, Mama. I’m changing now. I’ll be there.”
The housestill smelled like his cologne. That rich, woodsy scent my father swore he didn’t overuse, even though it lingered in curtains, pillows, and memories. He shuffled before me, my mother propping him up as they made their way to the living room, where he plopped down on the couch. My mother satbeside him, annoyance etched into her sharp cheekbones and luminous skin.
My father stretched out on the sectional portion of the couch, holding my mother close to his side. Leave it to Kenneth Reid to have a “health scare” on the most important day of my life. The scare? A bad case of gas.
I folded my arms as I stared down at the two of them. My father showered my mother’s face with quick kisses as she feigned disinterest.
“Mama, we can leave. Daddy’s going to be fine.”
“Kelly, still ain’t got any love for your old man? I just got out of the hospital,” my father pouted, seemingly soothed by the circles my mother rubbed on his stomach.
“For heartburn?” I shuffled in my stance, sucking my teeth.
“That wasn’t heartburn. It felt like somebody sat a Box Chevy on my chest.”
“Because you eat like you’re still twenty-five and made of steel. Smothered everything, hot links, fried this and that.” My mother smirked, taking his jaw in her hand. “Your body gave you a warning, Kenny. Take the hint.” They kissed again, this time deeply. I gagged.
“I’m leaving you two to whatever this is,” I said, waving my hand in their direction. My parents chuckled into each other. As they stared back at me, I saw the weariness they shared. “I’m glad you’re okay, Daddy,” I added, genuinely happy it wasn’t something worse.
My mother sat up, scooting over, breaking their embrace. She patted the cushion between them. “Sit down. We never got to open your decision email.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to open it here. Not when there were one too many sets of eyes waiting to see my reaction. When my mother told me my father was headed to the hospital, I’d made itup in my mind that I’d open it at home, with a bottle of wine, and a few playlists ready for whatever the email would entail.
I opened the email and clicked the link leading to my Match Portal, my heart thumping hard enough to echo. One click. Then another. I held my breath.
Congratulations! You have been matched to the Seattle Regional Medical Center–Pediatric Hematology-Oncology Fellowship.
I blinked at the screen.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
My mother moved closer, trying to read the words, knowing it was futile without her glasses. My father sat up straighter beside me.
“You matched?” My mother squealed.
I nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. “Seattle.”
My mom beaned. “Baby, that’s amazing! That was one of your top five, right?”
I nodded again, this time slower. “Yeah. Number four.”
It wasn’t Hopkins. Wasn’t Boston. Wasn’t Stanford. Seattle. Still top-tier. Still a win.
“Seattle? All the way on the other side of the country?” My father’s face scrunched.
“It’s a great program,” I said automatically, still staring at the screen. “Research-focused, patient-first model. They’re doing groundbreaking stuff with gene therapies.”
“You can research gene therapies at Texas Children’s.” He tilted his head. “You go there, you’re leaving everything behind. Your life, your people. What happened to you working at the clinic with me?”
I didn’t flinch. I knew he was trying to rile me up, guilt me into staying. “Daddy, I’ve told you time and time again, I don’t want to work in the clinic. I want to specialize.”
“I don’t see why you have to go halfway across the country when you’re already helping people right here.”
“It’s not about proximity. It’s about purpose.”
