“Uh, well, no. The eye movement is controlled by three other cranial nerves. Do you know which ones those are?”
More crickets.
“Cranial nerves three, four, and six,” he says as we stare at him blankly. Well, he’s got his work cut out for him. Good luck, Dr. Conlon.
“I knew that,” Marissa says.
“Oh, okay,” Dr. Conlon says, not sounding like he believes her. “Anyway, the branches of the facial nerve are the temporal, zygomatic, buccal, mandibular, and cervical. There’s a mnemonic: To Zanzibar By Motor Car.”
At least this time, the mnemonic doesn’t involve sex.
Victor crinkles his nose. “Where’sZanzibar?”
“I think it’s in Australia,” Marissa says.
“Actually, it’s in Africa,” Dr. Conlon says patiently.
“Who’s heard ofZanzibar?” Marissa says. “Zurich would be better. That’s in Switzerland. I went to Zurich in college with my boyfriend.”
“Um, fine,” Dr. Conlon says. “You’re welcome to use ‘To Zurich By Motor Car.’”
“And what’s amotorcar, anyway?” Victor adds. “Isn’t that just the same as acar?”
Okay, I can’t take another minute of this.
“God, Victor, who the hell cares?” I snap. “This is the dumbest conversation I’ve ever heard in my entire life!”
All three of them stare at me. Long enough that my cheeks start to burn.
“Sorry,” I finally say.
I sneak a look at Dr. Conlon, and I could swear there’s a tiny smile playing on his lips.
“All right,” he says. “Let’s get back to work.”
Yes,this session is humiliating. But at the same time, wow, I learn a lot about anatomy. As much as I hate Dr. Conlon right now, I have to admire how patiently he explains everything to us. Victor and Marissa have plenty more ridiculous questions in the queue, but he fields each of them expertly and doesn’t even make them feel like they said something dumb.
When the hour is up, Dr. Conlon dismisses Victor and Marissa.
“Why don’t you clean up here, Rachel,” he says.
“Why me?” I shoot back at him as the other students hightail it out the heavy lab door.
He regards me for a minute. “We’ll take turns.”
“Wonderful,” I say.
He pulls the glove off his left hand. “I’m glad you came today, Rachel.”
“I didn’t have a choice, did I?”
“You always have a choice,” he says. “It’s just that this time, you made the right choice.”
I guess he’s implying that I made the wrong choice when I slept with him. Then again, I didn’t hear any complaints at the time. He’s the one who banged his student, so I wish he’d drop the holier-than-thou attitude.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I have no intention of making that particular bad choiceever again.”
Dr. Conlon nods, and maybe it’s my imagination, but his cheeks seem to flush slightly red. It’s kind of satisfying to see him lose his composure, if only for a split second.
