“Yes…” I said.
“Matthew Conlon?” he persisted. “The anatomy professor?”
As if another Dr. Conlon would be answering my phone.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“My name is Mike Hirsch,” the man said. “Dr.Hirsch. I believe you have a former student of mine in your upcoming class. Rachel Bingham?”
I faced my computer and clicked on the class roster for the upcoming year, which contained each student’s name, a photo, and their undergraduate university and major. I searched under B and found a plain-looking brunette named Rachel Bingham who had majored in evolutionary biology.
“Yes, that’s right,” I said.
“Dr. Conlon,” Hirsch said. “The reason I’m calling is to give you a heads-up. Rachel is… someone to look out for.”
I raised my eyebrows at the innocuous-appearing photo of Rachel Bingham.
“Does she cheat?”
“Rachel destroyed my marriage,” Hirsch said, his voice filled with anger. “And if you let her, she’ll wreck your life.”
The whole thing sounded ludicrous. I laughed it off at the time. But then, a week later, I saw Rachel in person, and I got it—I understood how this girl was capable of wrecking a man’s marriage. She had a certain seductively dangerous quality to her—it was incredibly alluring.
Still, I had every intention of turning her down. Truly, I did.
Then… well, I don’t know what happened. I was giving her Patrice’s number, and she was getting ready to leave my office, but then I made the dire mistake of peering down her shirt, and I got to thinking about how long it had been since I’d been with a woman. Three years—threeyears. So I thought to myself that I’d do it just this one time. Just once, and then I’d set her straight that it would never happen again.
Then, somehow, I fell in love with her.
You might be wondering why I fell for her, which is the same thing Patrice asked me. I’ve never been the shallow type, so I can assure you I didn’t fall for her perfect twenty-two-year-old body.If I’m being honest, I’d have to say that I genuinely don’t know how it happened.
I suppose it mostly had something to do with the way she made me feel about myself. Who doesn’t want to feel desired by a beautiful young girl?
All I know is that I’ve been taking antidepressants for over a decade, and the first time since Kurt shot me that I could remember being truly happy was when I was with Rachel.
94
Here isthe story with Patrice:
When I first met Patrice, I found her attractive. Sheisattractive, objectively speaking. As you get older, the chances of meeting an attractive, single person who is your age become infinitesimally smaller. And I’m far from picky—believe me.
When Patrice started working at DeWitt—one year after I started—I liked her right away. She was smart and pretty but not so far out of my league that it would have been an impossible dream. So I mustered up all my courage and asked her to go with me for drinks after work. I figured I could always backpedal and say it was platonic if she became flustered.
Patrice said yes to drinks, and I gave myself a little pat on the back. We went to a bar a few blocks from her house, where the conversation flowed easily, and after I had two beers in me, I had nearly worked up the nerve to make a move. Then Patrice glanced at her watch.
“I should probably go,” Patrice said. “I promised my boyfriend I’d make him dinner tonight.”
When I later found out that she didn’t actually have a boyfriend, I was just grateful that she’d spared me the embarrassment.
That was years ago. Now we’re platonic friends, and I’ve been satisfied with that arrangement, even though, yes, I still find her attractive. But whenever it seemed like she was flirting with me, I reminded myself of that humiliating night and backed off.
When Patrice walked in on Rachel and me, I panicked. I knew Patrice would overreact. She knew Rachel and didn’t much care for her, probably because she secretly suspected what was going on. As soon as Rachel left, she laid into me.
“I’m really disappointed in you, Matt,” she said in her slow therapist’s voice.
I hated when she spoke to me that way, like I was one of her patients.
“It’s not a big deal,” I mumbled.
