A Brush with Love(59)
“An intense kind of moment, okay? A kiss-in-the-rain, movie-level, electrocute-your-senses, rip-your-panties-off kind of moment. We kissed after we left the apartment, and it was amazing, and he opened up to me about stuff with his dad and … I don’t know. It was special. And then we got pizza and he ended up staying the night. On the couch,” Harper added quickly, raising a hand to Indira’s silent screech.
“I seriously can’t believe you guys didn’t bone,” Thu said, joining Lizzie at the pizza and sniffing a cup of garlic sauce.
“I’d certainly bone him,” Indira said. “He has that type of hair that looks like he just had the best sex of his life, then rolled out of bed to get you brunch.”
“I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve decided he could make a hole,” Lizzie added, chewing on discarded pizza crust.
“He’s so pretty, I bet he doesn’t even ‘make love,’” Thu said with finger quotes. “He makes art.” She gave a hip thrust to emphasize her point. Lizzie and Indira nodded in agreement, all with a faraway look in their eyes that lasted longer than it should.
Harper cleared her throat and they snapped out of their fantasies.
“So, you had a ‘moment,’” Indira said, adopting Thu’s finger quotes. “What does this mean? Are you guys dating? Are you opening up that door?”
“I don’t know,” Harper mumbled, running her thumb along the edge of her textbook. Wrong answer. “I mean, I do know, and the answer is no. We’re not dating and I’m not opening that door,” she said more firmly, pressing the pad of her thumb into the sharp corner of the textbook’s cover. “I’m moving as soon as school’s done anyway.”
“Why does moving automatically mean it will end?”
Harper shot Indira an incredulous look. “Why does no one seem to get how serious that is? I’m not stupid enough to think that a five month … whatever … would be strong enough to survive long distance. It’s impossible to make something that new survive. And, more importantly, I don’t have time to give a relationship with him what it would need.”
“What would it need?” Lizzie asked.
Harper took a deep breath. “When I’m with him, I don’t feel balanced. Nothing else matters except him and I, and that’s not right. That’s not something I can do right now and that’s not the woman I am. I’ve come this far, and it’d be ridiculous for me to throw everything away for some guy.”
Her friends shared a look before Indira spoke. “Focusing only on grades and school isn’t balance, sweets. It’s actually extremely unbalanced. You’re smitten and that’s normal! Who wouldn’t be totally wrapped up in a hot guy who adores them?”
Indira reached across the table and squeezed Harper’s hand. “He brings something out in you. You’re … playful when you’re with him. Your smile’s brighter, you laugh harder … Having a life and career is possible. People do it all the time.” Indira’s eyes were soft as she spoke, but Harper turned away. Indira was talking about a life that Harper didn’t feel could be her own.
If she couldn’t feel in control of the one she was living now, how could she ever manage welcoming another person into the chaotic storm?
“We better start studying,” Harper said, waking up her computer.
Another glance passed between her friends, but Harper ignored it. They settled into their natural rhythm, typing away notes and asking the occasional question to the group, Lizzie playing on her phone and periodically calling them nerds. Harper was preparing for a particularly tricky root canal case scheduled for Wednesday when Harper and Thu’s computers pinged in unison.
“Practical grades are up,” Thu said as she scanned the email. “Took the attendings long enough.”
Practicals were graded based on live performance and didn’t offer the same instant score reports their electronic exams did. Harper felt the drowning sensation start. The practical had not gone well for her and she knew she didn’t want to see her score.
She’d gone in groggy and unprepared for the treatment planning assessment, having stayed up way too late talking with Dan, per her new routine. She’d also spent the morning lingering at the coffee shop next to school, laughing with him when she’d intended to go in early for some last-minute prepping.
“I passed!” Thu cheered. “Thank fuck for that.”
“Well, aren’t you just the little superstar,” Indira said, pinching Thu’s cheek as she leaned over her friend’s shoulder to look at the notes.
No point in delaying it. Harper logged in to check her score, fingers jittery as she typed. It felt like acid was dripping into her chest.
B-.
Fuck.
Harper pushed back from the table, tears stinging at her eyes, embarrassment and shame telling her to run.
She knew her friends wouldn’t get it—hell, most of the time she didn’t even understand her obsession with grades. Those little letters could seem trivial and inconsequential in the grand scheme of life, but they choked her. They wrapped their arms around her throat and squeezed all the air out of her. She felt childish and stupid for caring so much, but she had no control over the circling obsession. Being able to rationalize their overall insignificance and still have the overwhelming compulsion to excel made it all the worse.