31. Jo
Chapter 31
Jo
T he dimmed lights in the laboratory classroom cast a faint glow over the organized rows of examination tables. This classroom, though chock-full of memories, has been renovated since my time as a first-year medical student. I glance up to check the time on the digital wall clock and groan.
God dammit, why am I always so early?
“What are we doing today, doc?”
Students begin to pile into the classroom, chattering excitedly as they return from the lunch hour. I press the large plastic button on the wall, and the fluorescent lights spring to life overhead.
“Cranial nerve assessment, on deck!” I set my bag down next to the podium and log into the desktop computer as more students trickle into the space. The low rumble of post-lunch excitement quickly transitions into rambunctious squealing when I hit play on the before-class Spotify playlist.
My phone lights up with an email from Dr. Zin.
Urgent: Lab Today
Dr. Carello -
Dr. Hawkins will not be able to assist in lab this afternoon. I will send a replacement assist down to lab?—
The remainder of the message is cut off. I sigh, glancing around the classroom. Picking up the microphone, I bring it to my lips and blow gently into it. The sound echoes through the classroom speakers.
“Hey, hi, hello,” I say, garnering attention from a majority of the students in the room. “It’s just me today, so I’m asking for your full attention, please.” The remainder of the room quiets, and my heart rate spikes. No matter how many years I get under my belt, standing up in front of a class of students will never not be stress-inducing.
A hand shoots up in the back of the classroom and I nod, signaling Lauren to proceed with her question.
“I just saw Dr. Britlyn in the hallway, and he said he’s coming down to help,” she projects through the room, eliciting hushed giggles and excited whispers.
“Oh sure,” I exaggerate. “Everyone loves Dr. Britlyn, huh?” I try to play off my question as playful, but it’s true. I know students respect me. I’m sure they don’t dislike me, but Isaac came in and won over the entire student body in a matter of months.
Annoying. At least this time I won’t have to stare into his eyes.
I hope.
“Alright alright, the sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll get out of here. Get out your diagnostic equipment.” The decibel level of the room rises again as students unzip their doctor’s bags and settle back down onto their exam tables. Isaac saunters through the back door to the classroom, unbeknownst to the students, but hairs on my arms stand on end in response. His typical shaggy blonde hair is now a clean buzz on the sides, and styled side-swept with gel on top.
Can you feel your pupils dilate? That’s not a thing right?
Isaac chooses that instant to make his presence known, clearing his throat loud enough to be heard over the shuffle of bags and bodies in the room. My stomach cramps, and I’m not sure if I’m about to start my period or if the singular block of cheese I ate for lunch is finally catching up to me. I grab the presentation clicker and direct the laser pointer at the projection screen.
“Cranial nerve one is—” I pause, gesturing for students to fill in the details.
I’m met with silence.
It’s gonna be a long two hours of cheesy, crampy awkwardness.
Students charge for the exits as soon as I dismiss them. There are supposed to be thirty more minutes of class, but I can’t take the overwhelming sensation of him watching my every move. This needs to be over.
“Hey, does this haircut make me look like I’m thirty?”
I refuse to make eye contact with him as I clean up my belongings that have somehow ended up scattered over the faux wood top of the lecture podium.
“Not a day over sixty,” I respond without a second thought.
“Oof.” I look up as he stabs a pretend dagger into his abdomen and twists. “You wound me, Dr. Carello. My barber said it would make you want to be around me again.”
This time I can’t keep my eyes from meeting his. It really is a great haircut.
“You have a big head.”
He takes a step closer to the podium.
“All that brain,” he says, tapping his temple with his fingertip. “I need it to convince you to stop hating me.”
I plop the last of my belongings—how did my chapstick get out here?—into my bag and toss it over my shoulder, trying desperately to figure out a way to get away from him. I can’t do this right now.
“C’mon Dr. Carello, if we’re going to work together, you’re gonna need to look at me.” He pauses and side-steps the podium to put himself right in my path to the door. “And Sacramento will be very boring if I have no one to talk to.”
I exhale, my hands automatically finding their way to my hips.
“I can look at you. And you can talk to Victoria.”
I did it. I said the quiet part out loud.
“Excuse me?” The shift in his tone is palpable, and I shiver.
“While we’re in Sacramento, I mean. You won’t need to talk to me.”
A student from the previous hour of class pulls open the door and glances in, hesitation written all over her face as her eyes bounce between me and Isaac.
“Sorry Dr. Carello, I just forgot my water bottle.” I nod, trying to regain a semblance of my composure. She locates her bottle under a table at the back of the room, and raises it into the air. “Phew, glad I found it!”
“No dehydration today,” I add for good measure, trying to follow her out of the classroom, but I’m held back by the strap on my shoulder bag.
“Nope, nope, nope, get your ass back here,” Isaac says, just loud enough for everyone in the hallway to turn and look at us.
“Well that’s no way to quell rumors about us,” I whisper, letting him pull me back into the classroom by my strap.
“What?” He turns me to face him. “Nevermind—” he adds, shaking his head. “Dr. Carello.”
“Dr. Britlyn.”
I meet his gaze once more and he squints. I wish I had the ability to hide my emotions, to keep all my thoughts out of every line and wrinkle on my face, but I don’t. And he reads me like a book.
Isaac pulls my bag off my shoulder and sets it on the floor. He sits down on a table and gestures for me to sit on the adjacent stool.
I do.
“We didn’t get married.”
My gut betrays me, flip-flopping its way around my abdomen.
“Wait, what? Why?” How did I not know this? How did Carmen not know this?
“Victoria is smart.” He clears his throat. “Much smarter than me.”
Isaac shrugs, rubbing his palms over his thighs. My mouth hangs open, just waiting to catch a rogue fly.
I stand, suddenly overwhelmed with a throbbing ache in my temples. All the air is sucked out of the room, and I’m spinning.
I was right about the wedding ring.
He’s not married.
“I’ve gotta go,” I blurt, grabbing my bag and rushing out the door, leaving Isaac in my wake yet again.