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Since her father died, Samira became used to not sleeping a full night. First it was the grief: the endless crying that could flood the entire state of New Jersey, followed by the nightmares of her appa dying in a waiting room, and then the stress of having to take care of the house because her amma saw it as a burden she suddenly could not lift anymore.
Then, studying. Infinite hours of Samira sitting at her desk or in the library, her eyes burning from the effort. Focusing on her studies was better than unlocking the door of her emotions, so she did that. High school, pre-med and then med school. Never just memorizing for the test but going beyond that, reading articles and asking questions no one thought about. She swore she’s gonna be the doctor her appa never had, the kind of doctor that could see through what was in front of her.
In order to achieve that dream, that purpose, she put her life on hold. So of course when she started her residency at PTMC she worked the most hours HR could allow her to (when a department is as understaffed as them, HR allowed a lot of overtime but even them had their limits and that was not letting Samira work more than 4 doubles a month). Every year, she poured more of her into the hospital and statistically it showed: the record of the best patient satisfaction score into the hospital, patients asking to be treated directly by her, many colleagues supporting her research.
In reality, it was tearing her apart. Every day she got up, changed into her scrubs, had an almost non-existing breakfast consisting of drinking a glass of water and eating whatever was left on her counter (9 times out of ten, that would be a granola bar). Every morning she promised she would find time to buy groceries so at least she would have a proper coffee before shift. However, every night she would come back to her apartment, tired, her body aching in ways that wasn’t just physical but emotional too, and she didn’t have the strength to remember that promise.
It doesn’t help that every night she fell less in love with her job. Every single thing that was nice or would feel rewarding was immediately tainted by the person who she was supposed to admire, to follow their lead. Samira found it impossible to enjoy (if working +12 hours in an emergency department could be considered somehow enjoyable) her shift when Robby was around. He was the lead attending, the chief of the department, the dayshift “er cowboy” and the worst mentor she had. When she started her rotations at PTMC she met Dr. Adamson, one of the kindest souls she ever met and the person who actually inspired her to write her research about racial disparities.
It was truly unfortunate that he died during the pandemic, mostly because his predecessor was nothing like him. Dr. Robinavitch was a man tormented by his ghost, but the difference is that he used his trauma to torment the others. Another reason Samira couldn’t sleep is because of his voice in her head (especially after awful shifts) telling her she’s slow, she should be taking more patients, she’s wasting time and resources even though she’s right at the end, she should move to another specialty…the list could go on and on. It hurts being the only one receiving that treatment and still chasing for his approval.
But one day, Samira decided she had enough and she left. She hoped Oceanside would be different, maybe a chance to find happiness or at least something closer.
(Spoiler alert: she found it)
Right now, Samira couldn’t sleep because of the party in front of her house. She didn’t have to think much to know the source: the Codys. However, she was surprised that her…boyfriend?...partner?...lover?, hadn’t shut it down yet. Andrew knew her schedule and would never let a party disturb the free hours she has to sleep. She checked her phone and no messages from him.
She didn’t think much about that because suddenly, there was someone pounding on her door making her sit quickly right up. Her heart started pounding, as her brain tried to decipher who it could be. Andrew? No, he had the spare key, unless he somehow lost it? Samira didn’t think much about that as the knocking hadn't stopped yet. Barefoot, only wearing a big black t-shirt that didn’t belong to her, she exited her bedroom and walked through the hall to the front door. Before opening the door, she grabbed an umbrella but quickly dropped to the floor when she realized who it was.
Andrew was looking right at her with the most scared eyes she’d ever seen, and in his arms was Lena. Samira opens the door wide enough to let him in, the doctor in her kicking into action as if she was in a trauma room. “Put her on the couch” she said while grabbing her work bag that was on the bench beside her door.
“What happened?” she asked returning to the living area, her stethoscope already around her neck. Seeing Lena like this, pale and barely opening her eyes, squeezed her heart in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“I-I-I don’t know”, Andrew stuttered, he was on the floor on his knees, hands gripping his thighs with so much force. He was debating between looking at Lena, his girlfriend or the floor, deciding to do the latter. “I came home and found her like this. She's too warm Mira”.
One hand was on the kid’s forehead, Lena’s little cry against Samira’s cold hand almost made Andrew tear up. He should’ve been home sooner, should’ve noticed the first symptoms, should’ve…
“She has a fever” Samira, as always, pulled him out of his mind. “It’s not that high, though”. She looked at him briefly, as much as she wanted to comfort him, he wasn’t her patient right now.
“Lena, honey, can you tell me where it hurts?” she asked softly, removing the sticky hair off her forehead.
“My head” Lena coughed, “and my throat too”
“Ok honey, I'm gonna check you.” Andrew watched her use her stethoscope and helped her sit on the couch gently while he stayed there, unable to do anything but look. “Please take a big breath…good, now I'm gonna check your throat…”
He couldn’t help the panic creeping through his body. What if it was something serious? What if they had to go to a hospital? He’s never seen his niece like this, vulnerable, aching, without energy other than crying. It was breaking him. If this is a punishment for his sins, then he should be the one paying and not her, not her Lena…
“A…An… And… Andy… Andrew!” His body was in the living room but his mind was sinking deeper and deeper, thinking that he failed this kid because that’s what he did with the people he loved. Samira’s voice was like another chance to breathe again, a second chance he didn’t think he deserved.
“I’m here” but his voice was barely a whisper.
“Can you grab the children's tylenol and the cough syrup? It’s in the medicine cabinet. I’m gonna take her to bed okay”
Samira knew she could’ve asked him to pick Lena up, but she chose to give him an out, a chance to do something, to be useful even for a few seconds, that didn’t require watching the kid. It was just the flu, something that every kid in the whole world could catch easily but Andrew loved Lena in a way that couldn’t simply be put into words. He swore to be her fierce protector but this was an invincible enemy he could not battle against. Somehow, he thought Lena’s getting sick is his fault because he didn’t prevent it. But she could notice there was something else behind that was worrying him, something deeper that’s tormenting him and making him feel sad.
Something she couldn’t name but could blame the person behind that thought.
She chose to not think about that. Her priority was Lena, to help her get better. Samira put Lena in the middle of her bed, quickly arranging the pillows so she could be slightly elevated, as that would help reduce the coughing.
Andrew watched her tuck Lena in, giving her the medicine and putting a damp cloth on her forehead (she must’ve gotten it from the ensuite bathroom before he arrived). This time, he let his mind go somewhere else.
Watching his Mira laying beside her because Lena said weakly “auntie mira” and his girlfriend knew before she could mutter the rest. Samira lay on her side, facing her and slowly caressing her hair, helping her relax. It wasn’t long before Lena fell asleep but Samira didn’t stop her movements, her eyes continued watching her with a mix of worry and adoration.
She has the look of a mother without being one.
Part of him wanted to take back those thoughts, because now all he could picture were images of her…of Samira pregnant, caressing a belly that grew larger month by month. A baby, or perhaps two, if life deemed him worthy of being a father to twins—worthy of changing the story and writing an ending different from his own. Andrew imagined a nursery painted in pastel colors, filled with stuffed animals and a rocking chair... he could almost hear the laughter, the lullabies he wasn't sure he’d have the courage to sing, yet would know by heart nonetheless... the weight of a love in his arms, a love only she could give him...
No one would ever have a kid with you
That angry voice shattered his dreams and it felt like being stabbed. He couldn’t help but feel he was right. Why would someone have a kid with him? Why would Samira? He was a broken man, his hands may know how to build but also knows how to destroy. He also knows he isn’t normal, that his mind acts differently, that people called him weird when they thought he wasn’t hearing.
No one would ever have a kid with you
“Andrew, come here” his anchor reached for him (why wasn’t she tired of always doing that? “lay with us”.
His body responded automatically to her voice, moving carefully to lay on the other side, Lena between the two of them.
“Who said that?” she asked, her voice was low, careful of the kid sleeping curled next to her. Andrew didn’t know he said that out loud. But he chose to stay silent, he didn’t want to ruin the moment with his baggage. “He was wrong you know”
For the first time in what felt like hours, they stared at each other.
“He was wrong” Samira repeated each word firmly “you know why?”
He didn’t.
“Why?”
Samira smiled at him, making his chest feel warm again. Her right hand stopped caressing Lena, who was thankfully sound asl
eep, and reached for him, interlocking their fingers.
“Because I would”.