13. Medical School
Chapter 13
Medical School
Fourth Year
JV: Hey. What are you wearing?
I smiled down at my screen as I walked into the grand conference center in San Antonio. My research team members and a few of my classmates from medical school joined me as we approached the check-in desk. The woman at the desk handed me a badge with my credentials: Diana Richards, Medical Student, Columbia University.
DR: Business casual. Just got to the conference.
Nothing sexier than business casual, I thought with quiet amusement as I replied to his text. In the last month since Javi and I had parted ways in Corpus Christi, despite his promises that we would “return to being friends,” our communication had taken a decidedly flirtatious turn. His texts were filled with suggestive jokes and innuendo that made me flush and laugh in equal measure. I was certain he must be having some kind of competition with himself to see how many times he could get me to blush in one day.
He had begun to request to FaceTime more often than phone calls, and he usually— coincidentally —made these calls to me from his bed, typically shirtless. The first time it happened—the first time I was greeted not only with his smiling face, but also the jump scare of several inches of smooth, tan skin over the curve of trapezius and deltoid and pectoral muscles—I had to act like I wasn’t incredibly flustered the entire call. But it had happened so many times now over the last month that I was finally starting to become desensitized to it. I don’t know why my brain had initially decided to act like a schoolgirl who had never seen a shirtless man before, but I was starting to regain a bit of my dignity.
The change that was continuing to leave me flustered and a little bewildered was Javi’s new salutation, the new way he now ended each of our conversations: Just say when, Diana. I’ll be waiting. Love you.
My heart lurched a little in discomfort at the thought. I was so surprised the first time he said it, I hung up without even saying goodbye. Now I typically rolled my eyes at him and said, ‘good night, Javi, love you too,’ but even then, it took a lot of effort to remain nonchalant.
I didn’t know what my end point was—when to take the leap, to see what this was between us. With Mr. Valenzuela home and doing well, making good progress on his recovery, I was quickly running out of excuses not to acknowledge it. But the 3,000 miles that stretched between us still loomed large.
I read his next message.
JV: What’s on the agenda today ?
I picked up one of the programs from the check-in desk to see for myself what the day held. There was a welcome breakfast going on now to which my group would be heading shortly. There were lectures on ethics and leadership and various neurological disorders to choose from; a panel of neurology residents speaking on residency interviews; a networking lunch. I knew that I would be presenting my research the following day in the morning before attending a residency fair in the afternoon. I typed a reply.
DR: Looks like a lot of good lectures to choose from.
I followed my group as they headed to one of the larger conference rooms to grab coffee and bagels as we mingled with doctors and students from all over the country. I knew I should put down my phone and join the throngs of people conversing, but my eyes kept darting back down to the screen.
JV: I bet you’d be very interested in the two o’clock talk on Sunday
My brows furrowed as I stared down at my phone in confusion. When I finally put enough brain cells together to take the program back out of my pocket to inspect, I read ahead to the last day of the conference.
Sunday, 2:00 pm – Keynote Address: The Power of Innovation in Shaping Neurological Care, by inventor and entrepreneur, Javier Valenzuel a
My heart leapt as I read the words again, not believing what I saw directly before me.
“Javi?” I whispered to myself. I whirled around, searching the room frantically.
“What’s up, Doc?” A voice I would recognize anywhere teased from behind me. I whirled on the spot, my heart leaping as I saw him standing there with his trademark grin, looking dashing in his crisp gray suit—no tie, the top button of his white shirt casually undone.
“Javi!” I cried, my professional demeanor completely forgotten as I rushed into his open arms. I squeezed him to me tight, his hands naturally settling on my lower back.
I pulled away from him, hitting him playfully in the chest. “Javier Valenzuela! How could you not tell me?”
He looked incredibly pleased with himself, grinning widely down at me. “They asked me to give the talk months ago. I was considering backing out after everything that happened last month with my dad, but then I found out you’d be presenting your research here and it felt like it was meant to be.”
Meant to be , I agreed in my mind. It did feel like fate. After all this time apart, running toward our goals on opposite ends of the country, our worlds were colliding.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said in wonder. My heart felt like it could burst at the sight of him.
His eyes crinkled with the force of his smile. “Glad I can still surprise you after all these years.”
Javi looked over my shoulder, and I followed his attention distractedly. I realized with some horror that several members of my research team and my classmates were staring at us, clearly interested in the person I was embracing in the middle of a professional conference. I quickly extricated myself from Javi’s arms and brought him over to my group to introduce them. They were delighted to meet not only my best friend, but the conference’s guest of honor.
“Are you planning on going to most of the talks this weekend?” I asked Javi after my colleagues had gotten their fill of him.
“I wish I could go to half the talks this weekend,” he replied regretfully. “My schedule is unfortunately packed. I didn’t realize when I signed up for this how many people would insist on meeting me for lunch, dinner, coffee, etc. But don’t worry, I wouldn’t miss your poster presentation for the world.”
I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my expression. He sensed it immediately, adding, “But maybe we can sneak out for a bit? Explore the city?”
I nodded gratefully. “I already made dinner plans with my team tonight, but maybe?—”
“Dessert?” he completed my sentence.
I grinned. “Milkshakes? The night before a big presentation counts, right?”
“Definitely counts,” he agreed. “Meet me at the fountain, out by the riverwalk around eight pm.”
I nodded happily. Even if I wouldn’t get to spend all the time with him I might have hoped for, every second with him was one I hadn’t expected to have this weekend. I was delighted at the prospect. After breakfast had concluded, he walked me to the room where the first lecture would be held before hugging me goodbye.
After the first lecture, I wish I could have told you what was so interesting about myelin oligodendrocyte glycoprotein antibody disorders, but I would have been far more able to expound upon things like the texture of Javi’s dark hair or the tiny white scar abutting the curve of his upper lip, where he had hit the corner of a coffee table as a toddler, or the dimple in his left cheek, so deep it looked like I could lose my pinky nail in it.
I sighed at the thought.
The rest of the day’s events and the dinner with my colleagues—the second-best Mexican food I had ever tasted, only inferior to Juan Valenzuela’s cooking—passed in a distracted blur after that. I made excuses to my group after the dinner, telling the classmate I was rooming with not to wait up for me as I parted ways with them.
I found the fountain promptly at eight, but was too jittery to sit and wait. I paced slowly back and forth in front of the streaming water feature. The evening was balmy despite it being well into October. I shed my blazer, more comfortable in my pencil skirt and camisole.
“Who said you were allowed to start taking your clothes off without me?”
I whirled, choking on a surprised laugh. He sauntered up to me, holding a paper cup out as he approached. I took the offered cup as I shook my head at him, taking a long sip from it. Pistachio.
“ Take a walk with me?” he asked, nodding in the direction that led away from the conference center to the main thoroughfare of the riverwalk. We settled into a relaxed stride along the river, conversation flowing easily between us as we caught up. We met the crowds milling in and out of the restaurants and bars, the bright lights and colorful umbrellas over outdoor tables reflecting off the dark rippling water.
Maybe it was the romantic atmosphere, or maybe it was the feeling that the universe was conspiring to bring us together this weekend, but I felt my reservations and fears start to melt away as I walked alongside him.
Say when. I’ll be waiting.
He had said it dozens of times over the last month. He had made it abundantly clear that he wanted more from this relationship than friendship. I had found a dozen reasons to hesitate, to question, to worry. A little voice in my head would always tell me we were going to ruin something good by wanting more.
But what if we were denying ourselves something even better?
I leaned over and laced my fingers through his. He didn’t pause in the conversation or stop to acknowledge the subtle action. But he squeezed my hand gently back, his thumb brushing along my knuckle as we walked.
After we had walked nearly the entire length of the riverwalk, we finally turned to head back to the conference hotel. When we were in sight of the hotel in the distance, Javi let go of my hand without discussion. My palm felt cold in his absence, though the evening was warm. I tried to hide my frown. I wondered idly if he was worried about being seen by people we knew. We stayed quiet until we were back in the lobby of the hotel.
“I’ll walk you back to your room,” he suggested. Even though I knew it was a completely innocent offer—he knew I had a roommate asleep in my room—I still felt suddenly nervous, a thrill of anticipation fluttering in my belly. We rode the elevator together to the third floor, down the hallway, before I stopped in front of my door and turned back to him.
“This is my room,” I told him, fiddling with the key card in my hand.
“Big day tomorrow,” he said.
I had been so preoccupied with Javi that my research presentation had been pushed far into the back of my mind. Now that it was brought once more to the forefront, I was nervous for two different reasons.
He leaned forward ever so slightly, and I looked up into his face expectantly. He had one hand in the pocket of his slacks, his other hand brushing absentmindedly against the scruff on his chin. I was momentarily distracted when his finger brushed against his lower lip. And then his lips were suddenly all I could think about—I couldn’t steal my eyes away from them. His lips curved into a little smile, as if they liked having my undivided attention.
He stepped forward and closed the space between us. I thought he was going to kiss me—probably because I couldn’t think of anything but kissing him. But he drew me in for a hug instead.
“Good night, Doc,” he whispered. “You’re going to kill it tomorrow.”
He relinquished me and turned to go.
I stood at the door as he slowly backed away, waiting with anticipation for him to say it: Say when . I’ll be waiting. His reminder that he was ready for us to be something more.
But it never came.
When I saw him finally disappear behind the turn for the elevators, I felt my lips pull into a frown.
I turned to enter my room, feeling disappointed, my head mulling over this turn of events. I quietly prepared for bed, trying not to wake my roommate. Once I was settled in my bed, my head still felt like it was reeling.
Why didn't he say it? I thought. Has he waited long enough? Am I too late?