I worked two jobs to help fulfill my husband’s dream of becoming a doctor — at his graduation, he handed me divorce papers, but just as I was walking away, one of his classmates said, “Before you leave, there’s something you should know.”

“What have you been doing for the last six years?”

“Waitressing, mostly.

Some administrative work at a medical billing office for the last two years.”

“Medical billing.” He tilted his head slightly.

“So you kept a foot in the door.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way.

But I supposed that was true.

“I kept reading,” I said.

“Not systematically.

But I never stopped.”

He nodded slowly.

“Eleven weeks is enough time to prepare seriously if you start now.

I can give you the assessment framework and a list of the core areas it covers.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a printed sheet.

“This is what I give to all re-entry candidates.”

I took it.

“Dr.

Okafor,” I said.

“When I left — did you think I’d come back?”

He considered the question.

“I thought you might,” he said.

“Some people leave and the door closes behind them.