Tricky Wisdom: Year I Page 2

  Dr. Allen returned with a beaming grin. “Now…let’s begin.” He clicked a button and the projector screen at the front of the hall was lit up with the title: Introduction to the Profession.

  The remainder of the day went by in a cloud of what life was like in the medical profession. It was dull with a smattering of points of interest. More interesting was my altercation with Olivia as we took a break for lunch.

  She came at me hissing and spitting. “You!”

  “Hi.” I smiled and gave her another wave before rummaging around in my bag for money. “Are you getting lunch?”

  “Why are you here? If this is some kind of prank, then I’ll have you know, I’m not amused.”

  “I’m thinking a sandwich. What about you?”

  She shook her head to clear her confusion. “What?”

  “Lunch.”

  She blinked.

  “Want some?”

  She straightened as she finally fathomed my question. “I’ve something prepared. Now—”

  “Where are you going to eat it? Let me grab something from the deli and I’ll meet up with you, then you’re more than welcome to continue interrogating me about why I’m here. Right now, though, I’m starving.”

  “I…I shall wait here.” She indicated to the low stone wall beside us.

  “Not really that comfortable, though, is it? How about I meet you over there on the grass?”

  She looked to the quadrangle I pointed to. “You want me to sit on the ground?”

  “Feel free to stand. Back in a moment.” I hurried to find a sandwich and soda and returned to see her awkwardly staring at the ground. “It doesn’t bite.”

  “Ants do.”

  Good point. I inspected the area for ants. “None here. Sit already.”

  She scowled at the ground again and ripped a piece of paper from her notepad before delicately sitting on it.

  “Comfortable, your royal highness?”

  “No. Now, quit avoiding my question. Why are you here?”

  “To study medicine. You?” I added sarcastically.

  “You’re pre-med?”

  “Yes.”

  She made a harrumph noise in her throat that made me want to chuckle. I thought better of it. “I…didn’t expect that.”

  “You didn’t really ask.”

  “Yes, well…” she pulled a container from her bag and began to pick at a salad she had prepared. “I suppose your chosen field should at least make you appreciate the need for quiet study at the apartment. I suspect you will require ample amounts of it.”

  I washed a bite of the sandwich down with carbonated sweetness. “Is that your way of saying you think I’m stupid?”

  She shrugged and speared a green leaf.

  “I graduated with honors, I’ll have you know, and was accepted for a scholarship here based entirely on my academic record.”

  She shrugged again. “Big deal. Several of us were.”

  I rolled my eyes to the heavens.

  “What did you major in?” she asked after murdering more foliage.

  “Biochemical engineering.” The fork paused halfway to her mouth and I smirked. “What? Expecting some humanitarian endeavor?”

  She put her fork down. “Frankly, yes.”

  “Surprise,” I said in a sing-song voice. She scowled. Chuckling, I finished my lunch and we returned to our lecture.

  

  Day two and my wannabe-doctor status got more official. Sitting through dignitaries and formal introductions, one by one we made our way to the front of the auditorium to receive our white coats. Draping it over my shoulders was the head of the cardiothoracic clinic at the hospital down the road, and she looked severe, drained of life, and utterly fed up with it all. It gave me pause. Was torturing myself for four years going to be worth it if I came out the other end looking like my soul had been sucked out of my nose?

  “Good luck. You’ll need it,” she said before giving away a white coat to the last of our group. Stellar advice.

  She was right. From that day forward, I was nose-deep in books, sleep-deprived and functioning solely on caffeinated drinks.

  Columbus Day arrived and we were into our third first-year subject. Two exams were over and I was having a lazy weekend to celebrate having survived the past seven weeks. Olivia didn’t approve and was waving her arms around at me frantically. Pulling the headphones from my ears, I said, “What?”

  She growled. “My decision to partner with you was obviously a mistake. I should have realized this earlier.”

  “What are you going on about?”

  “We have patient-doctor sessions this week, and what are you doing? Goofing off! How are we supposed to plan an attack if you’re lolling about on your backside?” She stormed to the kitchen and ripped a sparkling water from the fridge door. “Thank God this is individually assessed.”

  I shook my head and put my ear plugs back in. I added panic-prone to her list of quirks I had noted for her. I smiled as I checked them off in my head. Paranoid. Obnoxious. Tetchy. Narcissistic. Snob. OCD. Anal. Tall. Meticulous. Freak. The last one was added yesterday when she declared that chocolate was horrendous and she avoided it entirely. Anyone that avoids chocolate without a suitable medical reason was a freak in my book. I leaned over and reached for the beer I had retrieved ten minutes ago and took a long gulp. I raised the bottle to Olivia in salute as she curled her lip at me. Drinking when it was still daylight out also bugged her.

  I stared over at the TV that was currently on mute and televising the Vikings game. Considering they were from my home state, I cheered quietly for them, but the score predicted a thrashing by our mortal enemy, the Green Bay Packers. I grunted as the Packers scored another touchdown.

  My ear plugs were ripped from my ear a moment later. “Ow! What the hell!”

  “You are interrupting my studies with your constant groaning and grunting. If you’re not going to participate in learning, then have the decency to remain silent!”

  I growled in frustration and flopped back to the couch. “Seriously, Ollie, it’s Sunday, give it up for a moment.”

  “Ollie?” she said with a weird screech.

  “Short for Olivia. What? Would you prefer Liv? Livvy?” The look on her face suggested she’d prefer an enema. “Ugh. Olivia, please, it’s Sunday afternoon, we’ve been studying for seven weeks straight, sit down and chill.”

  She glared and yanked her anatomy book from the desk. Seeing that book made me itch inside. We’d met out first cadaver a few weeks ago, and the experience was forever etched into my mind. I was standing near Olivia when the groups were being decided, and was grouped together with her, George ‘Tick’ Harrison, Peter Howard, and Jane Delvine. Our cadaver was a sixty-three-year-old I secretly dubbed Dolores. We weren’t really supposed to name the donor bodies, but I’ll be damned if I was going to refer to this extraordinary person as donor one-two-five-one-F. It was too impersonal.

  Olivia loomed over me and made me forget the itch. “I prefer to utilize my time wisely instead of watching the Vikings get smashed by the Packers…again.” She paused at the door and smirked at me. “Go Big Bay Blues.”

  She shut her door, leaving me blinking at it in amazement. She was a Green Bay Packer fan? “Ugh! Typical,” I muttered as I lay back on the couch, semi-impressed that she knew the sport. I added arch enemy to my list. Vikings fans had to hate Packers fans on principle. Good thing Olivia was a bona fide bitch.

  With Olivia gone, I pulled the headphones from my ears and turned the volume up on the TV. Cheering quietly as we scored an answering touchdown to bring the score margin to sixteen, my cell rang.

  “Hi. Are you watching the game?” I said, answering it.

  “No. I’m at work. How we doing?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “I hate the Packers.”

  “Ditto. Turns out Olivia is a fan, though.”

  Taylor laughed. “Not surprised. How is Olivia-the-weird going?”

  I smiled at
the nickname Taylor decided worked for my roommate. “She’s panicking about our patient assessments this week. I’m partnered with her, so she just gave me a big lecture about lazing about in front of the game.”

  “That’s because you’re wasting my time,” Olivia said from behind me. Startling, I jumped and spilled beer all over me after reaching for a sip.

  “Jesus.”

  Olivia smirked at me and retrieved the drink she had forgotten before returning to her room.

  “Damn it.”

  “What?” Taylor asked.

  “I spilled beer. Such is my life at the moment.”

  “You could always come home. I miss you.”

  I stopped wiping the beer and smiled. “I miss you, too.”

  “Besides…I need my wing-woman back.”

  My smile fell away and my heart sunk. Taylor was on the prowl. “Oh?” I said, trying to sound interested.

  “The new manager we hired…I think…” she sighed. “I might be in love.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head at Taylor’s standard line when she found herself attracted to anyone. Wishing she’d say that to me one day, I asked, “Gorgeous?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Tall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me guess…blue eyes and blonde hair?”

  “No, actually.” That gave me pause. Taylor never went for the dark guys. She had a thing about stubble shadow. “Brunette with chocolate-colored eyes. A bit like yours, actually.”

  Hearing myself referenced against someone Taylor was attracted to was a first, and I felt my stomach flop.

  “Charli reminds me of you in a lot of ways.”

  I blinked. This was new. Very new. “Oh?”

  “Which makes me miss you so much more.”

  I sighed into the phone. “I love you,” I whispered, realizing that sounded a lot like longing.

  “I know,” she whispered back. Next second, she said brightly, “So…plan of attack. Do I sweep in with the flirting and innuendo, or play it cool and aloof?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea. I’m not sure what this guy is like. I can’t help you.”

  “Umm…the thing is, you can. Charli isn’t a guy.”

  I did what I could to stop that trickle of dread heading for my toes, but it was hopeless. “What?”

  “Charli is a she. I’m falling for a woman.”

  Dread smashed every limb on its path around my body and into my heart. She was attracted to a woman? Taylor? My breathing shortened.

  “Darcy?”

  I swallowed. Hard. “W-why do you think I can help? I’m not…” Not what? I thought to myself. Not willing to participate in letting another female take what was rightfully mine, that’s what.

  “Oh,” Taylor said. “God, I’m so sorry, I thought you were…you know?”

  “What?”

  “Umm…man this is awkward,” she said in a rush.

  “What is?”

  “Aren’t you gay?”

  She knew? “What?”

  Taylor groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jack.”

  “Jack?”

  “Yeah. He said the other week that you were…God…in love with me or something. What a prick, right?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I just figured he was onto something, you know? Like, seriously, you’ve never had a boyfriend or kissed anyone, so I thought that maybe, umm, you were into the ladies but were too afraid to say, or something?”

  I tried to unravel her sentence. Now or never, Darcy. Now or never. “I’m a lesbian,” I said, proudly stating those words aloud for the first time in my life. Go me.

  “I knew it.”

  I screwed my forehead up. What sort of reaction was that?

  “Damn. Sorry, Darce, I have to dash. Can I call you later? You know, for advice?”

  “I…umm, sure.”

  “Great. Bye.”

  The phone call ended and I was left feeling very anti-climactic about my coming out. Letting a ‘this sucks’ noise erupt in my throat, I stood to collect another beer only to find Olivia behind me staring at the TV. “Holy crap.”

  She turned her attention to me. “The TV sound is on. Could you please turn it down?”

  I nodded and wondered if she’d overheard my phone call. I pre-empted she did and said, “Yes, I’m a lesbian.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Good for you.”

  Okay, that reaction threw me as well. What was with coming out these days? Where was the drama, the understanding, the ticker-tape parade? No…scratch that one. That was just stupid.

  “I’m bisexual.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Since we’re sharing sexualities, I figured I should offer mine.”

  “You’re gay, too?”

  “No, I’m bisexual.”

  I frowned. To me, that sounded like she liked women, too, so wouldn’t that make her gay? She rolled her eyes at my obvious confusion.

  “It basically means I fall for the person, not the gender. Unlike some, I don’t discriminate. Now, please turn that down. I can hear the inane ramblings through my bedroom door.”

  I snatched the remote and nearly pushed the mute button through the casing. I can’t believe admitting I was a lesbian just got me insulted for excluding a gender from my preferences. I decided to add bigoted wench to my list.

  Sulking, I sat back on the couch and downed the remainder of my six-pack as I watched the Vikings receive a sound thrashing. Today was about as bad as it could get. My team lost. I was arguing with my roommate…nothing new there, and my best friend that I had crushed after obsessively since junior school had decided to leap the fence and fall for some lookalike. I let out a shrieking growl and promptly ignored Olivia’s chiding.

  

  “It’s not fair,” I whispered. I’m sure I heard Olivia’s teeth grinding. “I’m the one that loves her, not this Charli ring-in. Ugh!”

  I heard Olivia’s hiss before she said, “For Pete’s sake, will you please shut up.”

  I slumped forward and tapped my pen on my notepad. The lecturer up front was droning on about the causes of health disparities overseas. A hand suddenly clamped down hard over my tapping pen. I hissed in pain.

  Olivia leaned in close, her bared teeth looking ready to go for my jugular. The two-inch gap between those perfect teeth and my pulsing lifeline made me nervous. “I do not care about your pathetic love life and its considerable faults. If you want this insipid Taylor so badly, then please don’t let me stop you from high-tailing it home like the pitiful fool you are. In fact, do the world, and me, a favor and leave.”

  “Ladies? Do we have a problem?” the professor snapped us both back to attention.

  “No, sir,” Olivia said. I shook my head.

  “Then perhaps, you wouldn’t mind offering a three-point summary of my argument.”

  Olivia’s jaw worked up and down in shock.

  I huffed. “I believe, sir, that you were arguing that health stratification has several fundamental causes relating to education, employment, and poverty, as well as relating to welfare programs each country has in place. However, I’d like to argue that in some countries, affluence has less to do with health, than it has to do with the availability of services and eligible access to them. Population density, for example, thins the service on the ground regardless of payment ability. Additionally, some political agendas exclude people from health care access.”

  The professor coughed, or perhaps choked, and nodded sharply. “Thank you…?”

  “Darcy Wright, sir.”

  “Darcy. Thank you for that succinct wrap-up. However, please refrain from gossiping in my class again.”

  I smiled and nodded. “No problem.” Glancing at Olivia afterward, I saw an expression of pure shock. In fact, she looked immobilized. “Hey,” I said quietly, careful not to attract the professor’s attention again. I nudged her with my elbow which got a response.

  She blinked
at me, shook her head and refused to acknowledge me for the rest of the lecture.

  

  “You're intelligent,” she said to me in what sounded like accusation when we returned to the apartment. We’d taken to walking back together as the days grew shorter. I called it roommate bonding, she labeled it safety. Apparently my diet and its effect on my heart would hinder my ability to outrun her if chased by criminals. I was bait.

  “Umm…I try to be. Why?”

  “How…you…” she narrowed her eyes at me. “Have you been reading my notes?”

  “Trust me, Liv, I wouldn’t dare.”

  “Olivia.”

  I ignored her correction and headed to my room to change. I wanted to catch a run before the sky darkened any further. Besides, I ran out of pizza. I had to do a grocery store. Inspecting my wallet before leaving my room, I winced. My student salary was abysmal, and my inability to cook was straining my bank account. Wondering if I should ask Mom and Dad to sell my car back home and provided me with some sort of income, I shrugged it off. I worked hard to earn that Mustang, as rusty and junk-worthy as it was. I needed to find work. This made me deflate. Like I had time to add work to my schedule.