"I'm starting to worry that strawberries have become a personality trait."
Willa Brown is a doctor. Willa Brown is good at it. Willa Brown loves it. Willa Brown only hates one thing about the job: Evan Buckley, Buck for short. But it's fine, it's no...
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WILLA BROWN WAS BORN TO BE A DOCTOR. It wasn't just because both her dads were—and still are!—doctors. It wasn't just because there are one hundred and four million doctors worldwide. It was because she had the spirit for it. You could ask her dad (the one that didn't run the hospital, the one that was there the most) and he'd say how she would dissect and put back together her Barbies so much that half of them were amputees. She was the one that put band-aids on kids in her school—from her personal Hello Kitty first aid kit. She was always going to be a doctor.
Willa, however, didn't know what sort of doctor she was going to be. She still doesn't, in fact. She went through the entirety of medical school, got to her parent's hospital, and spent all that time being extremely indecisive. At this point, she probably should have made a decision, but y'know what? It's fine. She's fine. It's going to be fine.
At least she's got a friend with her life fully planned out: Valerie Santos, pediatrician. Val, an immigrant from Puerto Rico, is even planning on having a child. Like, an actual, real life child. The child in particular is to be decided—that's the big problem with adoption, there's a lot of planning along with a lot of chance.
Willa's with Val now, in the break room. They kept a sock on the door, just in case someone wanted to come in dicks-a-blazing (they've watched enough Grey's Anatomy to be paranoid). Willa nurses a shitty coffee, curled up in the itchy sheets, back pressed against the wall. She fiddles absentmindedly with the strawberry pins on her lanyard. Val stands opposite, staring at her phone screen.
"How'd the date go last night?" Willa asks after a minute or two of silence.
Val laughs bitterly, glancing up at her friend. "I'm a lost cause, Will, a huge lost cause. At this point, let me die alone."
"You won't die alone!" Willa exclaims. "You'll have me."
Val smiles. "Well, aren't you so sweet," she says, sarcasm lightly lacing her voice.
"I try my best to make your day a little better. It's not like I have any other more important job rather than keeping you happy—" Willa's pager beeps. "Well, look at that. Bluff has been called. I throw in my towel." She quickly downs the rest of the cup, wincing at the gritty bits that fill her mouth. "I should have picked a hospital with better coffee."
Val nods gratuitously. "The one in Boston had an espresso machine." She sighs, wistful. "I miss that sort of coffee. Made saving lives just a little bit sweeter."
Willa giggles. "Bye, Valerie. I'll leave you to mope in peace." She blows her friend an exaggerated kiss before leaving the break room, closing the door shut behind her.
Willa speed-walks to the ER, hair fluttering as she turns the corner. She nods to the doctors that she passed. She meets Walter Souza halfway, grabbing onto his forearm as they continue in unison on to the door. The two of them went to medical school together. Both her dads often remark that he is the son that they never had. Walter often reminds them that he actually has parents, but they wave that off. Willa jokes that he is their favorite child.
"Do you know what the page is about?" Willa asks.
Walter shakes his head. "Nothing too serious, I'm not seeing any other doctors in a hurry."
Willa looks around, but the general silence (besides normal hospital noise) supports his theory. "My bet is that it's a car crash."
Walter raises his eyebrows. "So we're betting now?"
"Val's not here and she's ninety percent of my impulse control," Willa turns around, walking backwards to face Walter. "Ten bucks each. So, what's your bet?"
The doctor thinks for a moment, before saying, "heart attack."
"You sure about that?" Willa asks.
"Well, now you're making me nervous!" Walter teases.
Willa laughs before flipping back around. They exit the hospital in unison, joining the two other doctors already outside. Jason and Tony nod to the duo.
"What's the call about?" Walter asks.
"Car crash," Jason supplies.
Willa looks over to Walter, a grin playing across her face. He, in an on purpose manner, looks everywhere but her. He clears his throat, "oh, hey, looks like they're coming this way!"
"Nice save," she whispers to him. He pokes her shin with his foot in indignation. She giggles, giving him one final glance before the ambulance pulls up. Tony opens the swinging doors.
Willa can tell it's the 118, even without looking at the number, because she recognizes the faces spilling out of the ambulance with the patient—Henrietta Wilson, Chimney Han. She actually doesn't know if Chimney is his actual name, but she hasn't had the time to ask.
The patient has a neck-brace and obvious wounds on his face. Willa bites back a wince, it looks like it hurts. She has to constantly keep a poker face in this sort of business, but God, she loves it.
"Both arms are broken, femur is fractured," Hen states.
"Hurts," the patient adds, pointing out the obvious.
"Looks like it," Water says, worried, hands hovering. He's obviously waiting for orders from Jason.
Willa scrunches up her face in sympathy. "We'll get you fixed up just fine." She looks back at the EMTs, noticing offhandedly that there's another man. "Is there anyone else?"
"Just him," Chimney responds.
Tony nods in thanks. Willa moves to help, but Jason shakes his head. "It's fine, Brown, we'll take it from here."
Willa watches in mild confusion and anger as they cart the patient away without her. You know, as the nepo baby of two highly renowned doctors, she had hoped that she would have been treated with a little bit of respect. But maybe that's the reason why she's not helping the guy with the broken femur—man, she wishes she was helping the guy with the broken femur.
Willa realizes in a split second that she's just standing there, staring at the doctors who are filing back into the hospital. Instead of surrounded by supplies, she's surrounded by firefighters. She forces out an awkward huff.
"Sorry about that," Willa says, looking over at the three of them. "I have not yet won over my superiors, it seems."
The new guy—pretty sure firefighters call them "probies"—leans on the ambulance, there's a cocky smirk on her face. Oh, no. Absolutely not.
"Well, you've won me over—" the new guy begins. She can tell where this is going right from the get-go.
"No," Willa states. The man stops, mouth still open. "I mean, no, thanks."
Henrietta stifles a snort under her hand. Chimney just flat out laughs.
Willa pauses for a moment, before nodding at the three of them. "Well, it was nice to see you guys. Bye."
Both Henrietta and Chimney wave goodbye. The probie is slightly frozen in place. Whatever, that's fine.
Willa later asks around about the new guy and learns two things: his name and his reputation. Evan Buckley, nicknamed Buck. He has slept with a large percentage of the staff. He is, without a better word, prolific. She dodged a bullet there.
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author's note!
1216 words
Hello again! Same day update, I know, but this is actual writing!! Hope y'all liked it!
