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"Blegh. Those movies are cheesy, but some are okay. I agree with the lesbian fiction. I need a strong female lead to drive my interest," she said before biting into a crunchy shell. "Yum. These are better than expected."

"Best tacos I've had in ages. What'd you season it with?"

"A package mix." She laughed and pointed to the blue box behind her. "Thank Ortega."

"I'm grateful for Ortega and for the chef."

"The chef is grateful for the company," she said, her smile ever-present tonight. "How was work today?"

"Busy. I have to present some of my findings to the department heads on Monday morning. It's common, but I have to prepare for their questions," I told her. A hint of surprise made it to my awareness when I noted how comfortably we spoke. "I feel like I've known you a lot longer."

"I share the sentiment. I realized asking you how work was sounded rather comfortable." She licked a bit of sour cream from her lip before reaching for a napkin. "I'm okay with it."

"Me too. Do you start back to work Monday?"

"I do. I have one on-call weekend a month with this new position, instead of on-call whenever. It was one of the reasons that I changed companies."

"Do you like U.W. Medical?"

"I do. It's a good hospital with great staff. Stella became a fast friend."

"What's it like being an anesthesiologist?"

"Well," she began, setting down her fork that she used to eat the fallen bits of taco, then took a sip of pop. "People going into surgery are usually scared, even if they don't show it. When they meet me, I hope to make them feel safe and taken care of before they go under sedation. I hold their trust while I monitor them during the procedure, and keep them without pain or discomfort during and after. It's rewarding in its own right most of the time."

"Did you always want to go into that field?" I asked, resting my arms on the table after finishing my third taco.

"Not always. I wanted to be a surgeon and I did a few rotations in general surgery, but the idea of anesthesiology just struck me. It's a delicate balance, a dance even, and a challenge. Each patient is different. It was also a practical move. Financially sound, with job security. I wanted to make sure I could take care of myself. Or my mom if I needed to. At the time, my husband and kids if we had them."

"I can understand that. What did your husband do?" I asked.

"Orthopedics." She chuckled and shook her head. "He didn't need to be taken care of, but I still felt that way."

"Wow. Talk about a power couple." My brows lifted while I chewed a bite of dinner.

"More like an exhausted couple. We barely had time together because of our fellowships and eventual positions. We grew apart...and I grew gayer." She offered me a cheeky smile and I laughed.

"How'd you know for sure you were into women?"

"You know all those television shows about doctors and nurses hooking up at work?" She gestured toward the T.V. and I nodded. "Well, it happens. I hooked up with a nurse I met. We had a brief fling and I knew it was what I wanted. Women are just...perfect."

"Why did it end with her?" My ability to ask Samirah rather probing questions struck me as unusual. She welcomed them and answered readily.

"She and I were both way too dominant. We clashed a lot. She was also in love with a woman for years and we were strictly a friends-with-benefits situation," she explained. "My twenties were interesting."

"Mine were rather drab," I said, smirking through it.

"When did you know you were gay, Rosie?"

"Young. Thirteen or fourteen. In foster care and group homes, you meet all kinds of people. I met other queer kids and I just knew. I also distrusted men and boys at that point, for reasons we both understand." I shrugged then sipped my drink. "I kissed a girl for the first time on Valentine's Day when I was fourteen. It was a nice memory."

"That's really cute. When was the last time you dated someone seriously?" she asked, then helped herself to another round of tacos.

"Seriously?" I shrugged, folding my napkin in my lap. "I'm not sure. Most of my relationships have been either short-lived or hookups. The last girl I dated told me I was too quiet and that I agreed to things too easily. She ghosted me after that."

"What did she think you agreed to?"

"I'm not sure. But to me it seemed like she expected me to bicker over small things. Why is that necessary? I have bigger things to worry about."