Chapter One
Adrian
T he door to my apartment slams behind me at the same second I roll my eyes. My mom can’t see me since we’re on the phone, but the lack of traveling right now is making her lose her sanity.
She’s going on about the silent feud her and the neighbors are having. Apparently, they changed their flowerpots the same day she and Dad did.
God forbid.
I know some people have horrible neighbors, and we definitely have had some bad ones throughout the years we moved around for their jobs. But Mr. and Mrs. Lewis are among some of the best we’ve had.
Even if they tend to have a habit of subconsciously seeing it as a competition for the best kept yard. They’re like eighty years old, retired, and bored as hell. Plus, Mrs. Lewis makes the best peanut brittle for Christmas.
And from the long, dramatic sigh my mom takes at the end of her rant, we both know she’s just restless. This always happens when they’ve been in one place for too long. My dad has moved into the educational field now, but they’ve always loved travel nursing more than anything. Especially Mom.
I grew up moving around a lot, until high school. But even when we were at our house in Bakersfield, Mom would do flight nursing. She’s always said she likes not getting too comfortable in one job—being thrown into a new environment and having to adapt to someone else’s routine. It’s thrilling to her.
Whereas I think Dad enjoyed the different learning opportunities, and new facilities, more than the adventure part of it.
I grew up seeing my parents as basically the closest thing to real-life superheroes, and I had a happy childhood. The happiest . But I’ve known since I was younger that when I grew up, I’d want the stability they never craved.
We all know the only reason they’ve stayed in California for the last few months is because I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in May and they wanted to be with me when I moved here, to Amada Beach.
Which is exactly why I suggest, “Why don’t you take an assignment for the rest of the year somewhere? I know you’re itching to do something other than flight nursing right now.” I shrug even though she can’t see it. “Plus, there’s still a few states you haven’t been to yet.”
“Only nine,” she mindlessly comments. But I can tell she’s thinking about it. “Are you sure you’d be okay with that?”
That makes me pause and I fall down onto my couch. “Yeah, of course I’m sure, Mom. Why aren’t you?”
She’s quiet for a second before she finally admits what’s been on her mind. “I think I’ve just been feeling guilty. This time you aren’t across the country, but only a few hours from us. And before, my assignments were more than likely closer to you.”
“So?” I probe, feigning confusion.
I’d never tell my mom this, especially now, but I was sad as fuck when they left. It does feel weirdly different this time than when I moved out for undergrad. There’s this unspoken understanding that I’ll probably never live in my parents’ house again.
“You’re out there in San Diego alone. And I just want to make sure we’re here if you need anything.”
“Mom,” I draw out, appreciating her concern, even if it isn’t necessary. “This is a huge part of who you are—and one that’s inspired who I am today. I’ve never wanted you to stop on my account.”
“I know,” she quickly confirms.
“I’m even closer to Grammy and Pop now, so I’ll be with them as often as I can. And a three hour plane ride is just as easy, if not easier , for me than a car ride.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I can feel her resolve starting to crack.
Good .
“Maria will still be here, if there was an emergency…” she reminds me, but it’s for herself. My godmother Maria is my mom’s oldest friend, practically family since their dads were also best friends. She’s always treated me as more than her godson, and I’ve had my own room at her house since I was about twelve.
“True,” I agree, hoping to further encourage her. “Plus, if I get this job, I won’t have a lot of time off between that and my courses. So, please , do what you and Dad want, and don’t worry about me.”
“We’ll always worry about you,” she chastises affectionately.
“You know what I mean.” Rolling my eyes, I kick off my shoes and grab the protein shake from the gym bag at my feet.
After a quiet moment, she finally says, “I’ll talk to your dad. But let’s talk about this interview! It’s a big step, bub.”
Nodding to myself, I take another drink, buying time to figure out how I’m feeling. “I think I feel good about it. If it’s meant to happen, then it will.”
It’s kind of cliche, sure, but it’s been my motto throughout life. And it hasn’t proven me wrong yet.
This interview feels different. I saw the veterinary assistant job posting the night before I moved to Amada Beach. I stayed up later than I had planned, revising my resume and adding my new degree. Dr. Timothy Miller, the owner and lead veterinarian of the animal hospital, called me about thirty minutes after my parents left my new apartment.
Dr. Miller’s call was a pleasant surprise and gave me something to look forward to. When he said he wanted to be transparent ahead of time about the hours he was expecting and the hourly pay, it was better than anything I would’ve expected.
“Good, you’re going to do great. But just remember, your dad and I don’t mind helping cover what the loans and grants don’t. So if—and it definitely will—but if it doesn’t work out, don’t pressure yourself to find another job.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She’s not quiet about the fact she’d rather I didn’t work while finishing my education. She understands having to balance work, school, and life. I know my parents have worked hard to make sure I don’t have to worry about that. It’s a conversation we’ve had multiple times, yet I can’t put into words how grateful I am. Not that they’ve let me when I’ve tried.
But I want this job. It sounds like an amazing learning experience. Amada Beach Animal Clinic is a small hospital but it’s highly respected, working with many of the facilities, zoos and sanctuaries in the area. Plus, it’d be nice to get out of my apartment for more than just the gym and when classes start next week.
“Call us first thing tomorrow to tell us how it goes?” Her voice is hopeful, as if I’d deny her such simple motherly pleasure.
“Will do. My first class is at eight a.m. tomorrow, though, so it will be first thing.”
“Doesn’t matter what time—we wanna hear all about it.”
I smile as I start to stand and promise, again, to call. We say our goodbyes before I go to take a shower, collecting my thoughts and practicing the interview questions I read online again.
But as I’m walking to my car, I notice the dark clouds rolling in from the west. My lips tug up, feeling a little more confident than I was a few seconds ago.
Maybe most people would consider storms a bad omen, but not me. I’ve always found comfort in the chaos of thunderstorms, especially loving the refreshing feeling that lingers in its wake.
To me, this feels like the universe is giving me a pat on the back as I put my car in gear and pull out of the parking lot.
F ighting the urge to bounce my leg, I run my hands down my thighs. Again .
Thankfully, I’m pretty sure Dr. Miller can’t see the fidgeting from his side of the desk. Or he’s choosing to ignore it. Which is good, considering it probably isn’t the best nervous habit for someone who wants to perform surgery as a career.
The interview seems to be going well but the more he talks, the more I want this job.
He’s willing to work with my school schedule, since he’s planning to hire more than one person for the position. On top of that, even though he’s not a teaching facility, he’s willing to mentor me during the time I’m working here, and he works closely with the Aurora Hills Animal Hospital—one of the most respected teaching facilities in California.
One of the veterinary surgeons who works with Dr. Miller specializes in exotic animals. partners with the San Diego Zoo, as well as the big cat and exotic animal sanctuary nearby. Not to mention another doctor who specializes in equine health, or the number of aquatic animals the facility comes into contact with.
I’m still figuring out what my path in this career will be, but there’s something about this place that feels promising. Like it has the potential to make whatever that decision is a reality.
“I can’t promise anything,” Dr. Miller starts, breaking the short silence, “since I have a few other interviews to go through, but this feels like it could be a great match. I only have a couple more questions, and I apologize in advance if they’re too personal.”
My eyebrows crease but I shrug lightly. “Go ahead and ask, sir.”
He tilts his head back and forth, seeming to think over his words. “How would you describe your relationship with your mental health?”
Some of the new tension starts to dissolve as I piece together where this is going. “I’ve been lucky to never go through a hard time in that way. But that doesn’t mean I underestimate how important it is.”
He offers me a small smile, seeming to accept my answer but is unsure. “I assume by this point, you’ve heard your instructors talk about it a time or two. So, I won’t nag you, but I do like to get an idea of where someone’s headspace is, especially when they’re taking on a job in this field, while still going to school.”
As a vet student, I’ve learned about the mental health statistics in almost every course I’ve ever taken.
Initially, when I was just eighteen years old and taking my first introduction into animal sciences course, I figured it would be similar to what I’ve seen my parents go through in their careers as nurses. It’s a high stress job that often breeds compassion fatigue and burnout.
And that’s true about being in the veterinary field as well. But according to the studies, all of that mixed with consistently having to perform euthanasia and the different types of expectations on veterinarians from the clients, results in one of the highest rates of suicide for a profession.
Working in the field before you’ve even gotten your license can cause burnout early on, even though it’s great on a resume and offers hands-on experience.
“I understand. It’s a huge reason why I’m thankful you’re offering me three shifts a week, if I do get the job,” I add with a wry smile. “But I hear you and your concerns, and regardless of if I get the job, I know it’s time to start thinking about that aspect of the career.”
That seems to appease him more. He nods and adds, “With this not being a teaching hospital, there are some limitations in what I can offer. However, for someone at your level and applying for a veterinary assistant position, there shouldn’t be any hindrances. Aurora Hill’s facility is fantastic, but it’s much bigger. Eventually, that’s what you’ll need—obviously I couldn’t offer you a residency if I wanted to—but right now, I think there’s a lot more hands-on training, as well as one-on-one mentorship opportunities, than what you’ll find anywhere else.”
It sounds like he’s trying to sell me on the job, rather than the other way around.
“I’m not necessarily looking for jobs, sir. I happened to come across your posting and it sounded like a dream come true. Any extra experience and knowledge I can gain, I’ll happily take.”
He gives me an assessing look. It reminds me of the way my dad looks at me when we’re talking about the big decisions in life. Like he sees something that I haven’t quite figured out just yet.
“You’re choosing to work while you go to school? May I ask, why?” His tone is neutral but there’s still that weirdly paternal expression on his face.
That’s the first question I feel slightly unprepared for. Not even my parents asked me that. Maybe they didn’t have to, they just knew.
Thinking it over for a second—trying to find the right words to articulate why I’d choose to add more responsibilities onto my hectic course load.
“There are a few reasons, actually. Like I said, this seems like too great of an opportunity to turn down. I’m new to town. And to be completely transparent, even through study groups and coursework, making friends in a strenuous program like Animal Medicine can be hard.” Sitting up a little straighter, I add, “And my parents have never shied away from hard work and what it took for them to get to their positions as highly respected nurses across the country.”
“Is that so?” It comes out curious, no sense of a double meaning.
“Yes, sir.” I nod. “My dad went to nursing school while on a football scholarship at UCLA. My mom worked two jobs to put herself through school. They’ve worked hard to make sure I don’t have to do that, but I want to. I’m excited to start my career and my priorities have shifted, even in the three months since I graduated with my bachelor’s degree. I don’t see why I should wait to start my career in this field.”
Dr. Miller chuckles easily. “Fair enough. And as long as you can find a healthy balance, I completely agree.”
After a few more minutes and questions—some routine, some more personal like how I’m adjusting to Amada Beach—Dr. Miller stands from his side of the desk. So, I follow suit.
“It was great to meet you, Adrian.” He reaches across the table and shakes my hand.
Firmly, I return the gesture and tell him, “You as well, Dr. Miller. Hopefully, I’ll talk to you soon.”
With a warm smile, he nods once. “Good luck in your classes.”
Accepting his dismissal, I walk out of his office and to the front doors. When I see the storm clouds have cracked open, letting a heavy rain pour down, I smile to myself.