“Sure thing,” I say, and I slam the door in his face.
Was that a bitchy thing to do? Maybe it was. But seriously, somebody needed to tell that guy the truth. I did him a favor.
I go back to the bedroom and get on my computer. I check my email, and there’s a message waiting for me from Dr. Conlon: “Please come see me after class tomorrow.”
Ah, the “come see me” note. Always the start of something interesting.
35
I showup at his office around six thirty p.m., when most of my classmates are either home or crowded into the library. Dr. Conlon should have been home having dinner with his family, but since he lives alone, he’s still in his office. I knock on his door.
“Come in,” he calls out. “It’s open.”
I open the door to his office and make a point of shutting it behind me. Dr. Conlon is working on his computer, but he turns to face me as I walk in. From the few lines around his eyes and the slight graying of his black hair at his temples, I’d place him in his late thirties. But there’s something very youthful about those blue eyes, even when they’re hidden behind his spectacles. The truth is, despite everything, he’s a pretty good-looking guy.
None of the professors I’ve slept with before have been even remotely attractive. That’s purposeful. I figure if the guy is a heartthrob, there’s no way he’ll fall for my act—he won’t be desperate enough to risk his whole career for a little action from a student. But Dr. Conlon is an exception. It’s painfully clear he’s not a ladies’ man—the bowtie says it all.
“Rachel,” he begins. He folds his hands together. I’ve noticed the way his right hand doesn’t move normally, and this action only calls attention to that fact—I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with the guy. “Will you have a seat, please?”
I wore a red skirt just for the occasion. There’s something provocative about the color red—men don’t refuse a woman in a red skirt. I slide into the chair in front of his desk and cross my right leg over my left. Even though I’m very thin, I have shapely legs.
“Rachel, you probably know I want to talk to you about the exam,” Dr. Conlon says.
I nod.
“Your grade is…” He bites his lip. “Rachel, I’m very concerned that you’re not studying enough. Anatomy involves a lot of memorization, and you… well… you missed a lot of basic information. I went through your exam very carefully, and I’m worried that you’re just not making an effort.”
I lower my eyes. “I just don’t have a great memory. I swear I’m trying my best.”
Well, sort of. The truth is, I hardly studied at all. When I saw Dr. Conlon give his passionate “anatomy is fun” speech at the beginning of the year, he may as well have painted a big L on his forehead. I have nothing to worry about.
“It can be a very difficult transition from college to medical school,” he acknowledges. “I know that. Is there anything going on in your life that’s keeping you from studying enough?”
My eyes fill with fake tears. I rest my elbows on his desk and bury my face in my hands. Did I mention I can now cry on command? It comes in handy at times like these.
“Rachel…” he says gently. His hand is now on my shoulder. Rubbing.
Oh, Dr. Conlon, you don’t know it, but you’re about to get very lucky. We both are.
“Rachel, you can talk to me…” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Wow, he’s saying all the right things. It’s like he’s reading from a script. Nice job, Dr. Conlon. This is going to be so damn easy.
“It’s just that”—I sniffle—“I feel like I’m all alone out here. I miss my family, and I… I have no one…”
“Listen to me, Rachel,” he says. “Everyone feels that way when they first start med school. Everyone. But I swear to you, you’re not alone.”
He puts his hand on top of mine. His palm is rough and calloused, probably from always holding that cane. I turn my own hand slightly so that I can grasp his fingers.
“Thank you,” I say in a small voice. “Thank you for being so nice to me. You’re the only one who’s tried to help me in this place.”
They should give me an Oscar, truly.
He’s leaning forward like I am, so that our faces are only inches apart. I wonder if he’ll kiss me first or if I’ll be the one who has to make the first move. When I first met Dr. Conlon, I made a bet with myself that I would have to kiss him first.
“Rachel.” He is so close to me that I can feel his hot breath. “Have you ever…”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
