Page 61 of Lily In The Valley
I froze for half a second. Then remembered Elena handed me the chart. I flipped it open. “Hemoglobin low. Platelets even lower. ANC was tanking, like his immune system is going on strike.” My voice didn’t shake when I said the numbers aloud, but I could feel the sweat prickling at my back.
Dr. Sayegh gave a short nod. “Start transfusion orders before noon. And double-check his central line site. Last nurse said it looked irritated.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She was already moving again.
By lunch, I was sitting in the staff’s lounge alone with a turkey and cheese sandwich and bottle of water I hadn’t touched. My hands were still cold. I’d washed them so many times, the skin between my fingers was starting to peel. Across the room, a group of second-year fellows laughed over a TikTok someone passed around. I smiled politely when one of them glanced my way, then looked down at my phone. No new texts. I clicked open Khalil’s last message from the night before.
Big Head
Don’t let them rattle you. You belong there.
I hadn’t responded. I typed “first day was fine,” then deleted it. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the truth either. That afternoon, I presented my first patient in rounds. My voice sounded too loud. Too clipped. I stumbled over the chemo protocol name and corrected myself mid-sentence.
Dr. Sayegh didn’t blink. “Next time, prep your notes before entering the room. Confidence inspires confidence.”
It wasn’t said with venom. Just expectation. I nodded. Even though her words landed like a slap. I knew better. I was better. By the time I made it home, my legs felt like they’d been filled with wet sand. My apartment was still mostly unpacked. Take-out containers littered the kitchen counters and trash. I kicked off my shoes, shed my scrubs into a corner, and collapsed onto the couch in a tank top and underwear. I stared at the ceiling. The silence was louder than anything I’d heard all day.
Mama would’ve asked how it went. She would’ve told me to treat myself to a little dessert. Something soft and sweet to cut the edge of a rough day. I swallowed hard. I pulled my phone out and scrolled Instagram like it might numb me.
The next morning,I left my apartment twenty minutes earlier just so I could breathe somewhere that didn’t smell like antiseptic. Still + Stirred was a tiny corner coffee shop tucked between a bookstore and a yoga studio. The windows were fogged from the inside, plants hung in the windows like littlegreen chandeliers, and a chalkboard out front read, “You survived yesterday. Here’s to something warm for today.”
I like that.
Inside, the walls were painted a faded terracotta, and Billie Holiday crooned softly from a dusty speaker in the corner. It was the kind of place where you could disappear without disappearing completely.
The barista, a light-skinned girl with bantu knots and a “BLACK COFFEE MATTERS” pin on her apron, smiled when I stepped to the counter.
“Hi, welcome to Still + Stirred! What can I get for you?” she asked.
“Double blonde espresso, oat milk, splash of hazelnut and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”
“Coming right up.” She smiled.
I took my drink and slid into the corner table near the window. The wood was chipped, but it had a perfect view of people pretending their lives weren’t unraveling, too. Outside, a dad balanced his toddler on his shoulders. A woman walked by with headphones and a bouquet of flowers tucked into her bag. The world felt far away in the best way. I opened my laptop, pretending I was about to review new oncology protocols, but I kept staring at the blinking cursor in my empty Word doc. Instead, I clicked over to the group chat with my best friends.
Nessa Ann
tell me why I forgot to take the salmon out to thaw
all I want is a salmon bowl
Lynnie Mae
again??? Come on Nessa.
Nyah Myah
you’re being dramatic. Just cook it from frozen in the air fryer
Nessa Ann
that’s gonna poison me is it???
Me
no, it’s not going to poison you
