65
A few daysafter the dinner at my parents’ house, I take my father’s credit card and make a trip to a large local bookstore to raid the shelves for anatomy texts. The bookstore has a full floor dedicated to medicine, and there is no shortage of overpriced textbooks and review books. Our second midterm is in a few weeks, and there’s no time to mess around.
I pick out half a dozen books and lug them to the checkout counter. The act of carrying the texts to the counter is enough to make me gasp for breath. Wow, pathetic. When was the last time I’ve been to a gym? Oh well, no time for that now. I’ll get in shape again after residency is over.
The girl ahead of me in the checkout line reminds me a lot of Sienna from college. She’s tall—long blond hair loose down her back, great tits, great ass. This is the sort of girl my parents would have wanted me to bring home—someone who wouldn’t embarrass me.
I hadn’t even realized I was staring at her until she catches me. My face gets hot, and I quickly look back down at my stack of books.
“Got anything to read?” the girl asks me teasingly, gesturing at the two-foot stack.
She’s interested. Go for it, Howard!
I flash her a smile dripping with charm. “I’ve got an anatomy exam coming up.”
She glances down at the titles of the books. “You’re in med school?”
“My first year,” I confirm.
“I’m Erin,” she says.
“I’m Mason.”
“So what kind of doctor are you going to be?” Erin asks me.
“A surgeon.”
Erin seems properly impressed by this. She then reveals she’s a junior at DeWitt College, and she’s majoring in art history. My mother would love this girl. They could have a blast discussing Monet or some crap like that.
I’m trying to decide if I should ask her out when she reaches out and touches my arm. “So when are you going to ask me for my number… Doctor?”
“Um,” I say. Wow. I’m not used to girls beingquiteso forward—I think I’m going to like being a med student. “Can I have your number, Erin?”
Erin scribbles her digits on a blank page in one of the textbooks I’m buying, and I think to myself how perfect she is. She’s beautiful, tall, reasonably articulate, and I bet anything she’s really easy. This is the kind of girl any guy would be thrilled to have a date with.
So why can’t I stop thinking about Sasha? What iswrongwith me?
66
My life is still mostly studying.I got the highest grade in the class on the first exam, and I want to make a similarly strong showing on the second one. My only regret is that I can’t break my own record. I go to the library every day after class and stay there until I can barely keep my eyes open.
Sasha continues to keep me company in my corner of the library. We still talk, and she still brings me coffee when she goes to get herself a cup, but we haven’t had sex since the dinner with my parents.
“Black, no sugar,” she says as she places the cup in front of me.
“Thanks, Sasha,” I say. “You’re the best.”
“Am I?”
I always have to bite my tongue to keep from asking her if she wants to go to the locker room with me. I figure if I ask, she’ll say no. I blew that aspect of our relationship, and I can’t admit to her how desperately I miss it. I made a huge mistake that night at my parents’ house. But I’m glad that I at least have her company during the lonely nights in the library.
A few days before the test is scheduled, I’m sitting in the back of the library, studying the muscles of mastication when I hear a voice from over my shoulder: “Holy shit… anatomy. Whenever I think my life is the worst it could possibly be, I remember that class, and I feel a little better.”
A tall guy with a shaved head is standing over me, wearing green scrubs and a long white coat. The ID badge hanging from his lapel proclaims him to be “Resident, Department of General Surgery.” He has his arms crossed and is shaking his head in amusement.
“You a first-year?” he asks me.
“That’s right.” I look the guy up and down. “You a resident?”
