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The first time May heard Dennis Whitaker’s name, it was in her Clinical Pharmacology class.
“No way,” her kind-of-friend, Gina, had said, interrupting her while she was in the middle of speaking. She had a tendency to do that, but it was especially annoying this time around, because May had been trying to open up to her. Ever since she’d started nursing school, despite enjoying it, despite feeling like it was right for her, a part of her still felt guilty about abandoning law. She’d always thought her mother’s decision to stop pursuing that career had been a shame, no matter how good she was at policing, and now, she was doing the same thing. No one was ever going to finish what her mother started.
Clearly, the battle inside May’s head hadn’t mattered to Gina. “Some med student in Pittsburgh was living in the hospital he was doing one of his rotations in,” she’d said.
The cluster of girls Gina was talking with had giggled as she passed the phone around to them.
All May really remembers feeling is uncomfortable. Clearly, there had to have been a reason the guy had resorted to staying in the hospital. She’s spent enough time in them to know that they’re the last place anyone wants to live. So this guy, whoever he was, had probably been in a very dire situation.
She hadn’t said any of that, though. Instead, she’d just forced a chuckle and said, “How’d you even find that out?”
Turns out, his now-roommate had told a friend who had told a particularly gossipy friend, and it had spiraled from there.
It doesn’t really matter, though. Mostly, she just feels bad for him. And after all these weeks, she’s still thinking about it. She really hates that it’s been turned into some sort of joke amongst healthcare students. She’s ranted to Buck about the students making light of it, even. The point is, Dennis Whitaker’s story has really stuck with her. Even as she walks into the bar, on what’s supposed to be her monthly catch-up with Buck, something she always looks forward to, she keeps thinking about him.
She just hopes he’s doing okay, is all.
When she and Buck walk inside and make their way into a booth, May does her best to push Dennis Whitaker out of her mind. She doesn’t even know him.
“Okay,” May says. “So, how’s Theo doing?”
She and Buck talk for a few minutes about his foster son-who-isn’t-his-son-but-also-is, and Buck is excitedly telling her about how he’s finally found a daycare that’s good at accommodating Theo’s ADHD, when a man walks over to their table. He has dark, wavy hair and beady brown eyes, and his stare is laser-focused on Buck.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” he says, turning to May. “I was wondering if I could steal your friend and buy him a drink?”
Buck opens his mouth, and May knows he’s going to (reluctantly) say no, but she nods her head.
“Go,” she says, smiling at him. “Have fun.”
The thing is, Buck doesn’t get to go out all that much anymore, now that he has Theo on his hands. And May knows him well enough to know that this guy is exactly his type.
“You sure?” Buck says, and she nods.
After he leaves, May finishes her drink in silence, before making her way to where the bartender is. She tells him to surprise her, and then waits. For what, she isn’t sure. But something interesting happening right about now would be nice.
By the time she’s given her drink—a vodka cranberry—she’s resigned herself to a night of silence. She hopes Buck is having a good time right now, at least.
May’s pulled out of her thoughts by someone sitting down next to her. She turns around and smiles politely at him, and he returns it. When she turns back, she gets this…influx of some sense of familiarity. Like she’s seen this guy before, but she can’t place him.
The bartender comes back up to greet him, recognition twinkling in his eye. “Dennis!” he says. “Wow. Three days in a row. Are you going to become one of my regulars?”
Dennis. His name is Dennis. That’s when it all clicks for May.
He chuckles. “Sorry, Chris. I’m going back to Pittsburgh tomorrow. But—”
“Sorry, are you Dennis Whitaker?” May interjects, before she can stop herself.
He turns to her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I am. Um, do I know you?”
“No, sorry,” May says, flushing. “Just…you’re really well-known amongst healthcare students.”
She’s expecting him to respond with confusion, but he tilts his head back and groans instead. At May’s raised eyebrow, he says, “Do not tell me the med students of L.A. somehow found out I was living at a hospital.”
May winces. “Well…”
Dennis chuckles humorlessly. “God, that’s embarrassing.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s embarrassing,” May says. “I mean, if you were living in a hospital, I doubt you had much of a choice.”
“I didn’t,” Dennis says, quietly staring down into his drink. “But it’s all good now. I live with my friend Trinity, who, very graciously, does not make me pay rent.”
“She sounds nice,” May smiles.
“She is,” Dennis says fondly. “She’d never admit it, though. She likes to act all tough. Hard to put on that act all the time when you live with someone, though.”
A few moments of comfortable silence settle over them, before Dennis starts talking again. “So, you’re in med school?”
“Nursing school,” May says. “But, yeah.”
“You enjoying it so far?”
“I am,” she nods. “I really feel like this is my calling. And I’m glad I realized it, because I was looking for law internships up until the week I realized it wasn’t what I wanted to do.”
“Yeah, I can relate,” Dennis says. “I majored in theology, if you can believe it.”
“Wow,” May said. “How do you go from that to medicine?”
Dennis shrugs. “I realized that some things are more important than my family’s legacy.”
Intriguing. “What do you mean by that?”
“My dad was a pastor, his dad was a pastor, his dad was a pastor…you get the idea. I felt like I had no choice but to, y’know, walk that same path. I didn’t want my dad to be disappointed in me.”
“Was he?” May asks carefully.
“Yeah,” Dennis sighs, expression unreadable. “But I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to be defined by his dreams, no matter how much it feels that way.” His tone is stronger now, passionate, and the finality of his sentence surprises May.
“Wow. Sounds like you really had to get that out,” she says.
“I guess I did,” Dennis says. “I don’t know why, but it’s easier for me to open up to strangers than it is to talk to my friends about this kind of stuff.”
“Well, it’s good you talked to me, then,” May smiles. “I like to think that I’m a good listener.”
“You really are,” Dennis says thoughtfully, nodding.
“I’d hope so,” she says. “You know, I actually used to be a 911 dispatcher.”
Dennis’ jaw half-drops. “Okay, now you have to tell me about that.”
So she launches into the story. All the while, she feels lighter than she did before she entered the bar. Dennis sounded so impassioned about following his dreams instead of trying to maintain his family’s legacy. He doesn’t hold half the guilt that May does, or did. And he’s managed to get here with pushback from his family. May’s has been nothing but supportive, despite all the rapid turns she’s taken through life.
It fully hits her, in this moment. She’s telling Dennis about the amount of calls she used to get from people whose food orders were late, and from children who wanted help with their homework, and they’re both giggling, and she realizes it—they’re enjoying themselves. They’re living their lives the way they want to, the way they’re meant to. They have nothing to feel guilty about.