“How did you get me on this platform?” asked Susan suddenly, realizing the vehemence with which she had been speaking.
“You were just agreeing to my statement that being a female medical student was difficult. So how about agreeing to the last part, about not taking on any more handicaps?”
“Shit, Mark, don’t push me right at this moment. Obviously you can see that once I got involved in this thing, I probably need to resolve it somehow. Maybe it’s related to my feeling like I’m on trial for women. God, I’d like to show that Harris where to get off. Maybe if I can see Berman again, I’ll be able to give up without any loss of intellectual face or … what should I say, self-image or self-confidence. But let’s talk about something else. Would you mind if I were to give you a hug?”
“Me, mind?” Bellows sat up quickly but slightly flustered. “Not at all.”
Susan leaned over and gave him a squeeze with a force that surprised him. Instinctively his arms went around her and he felt her narrow back. Somewhat self-consciously he patted it, as if he were comforting her. She pulled back.
“I hope you’re not waiting for me to burp.”
For several moments they studied each other in the firelight. Then tentatively their lips sought each other, gently at first, then with obvious emotion, finally with abandon.
Wednesday, February 25, 5:45 A.M.
The alarm jangled in the darkness, making the air in the room vibrate with its piercing sound. Susan sat bolt upright from a dead sleep. At first she wondered why her eyes wouldn’t open; then she realized that they were open. It was just that they could not pierce the utter blackness in the room. For several seconds she had no idea where she was. Her only thought was to try to find the alarm clock and deaden its awful nerve-shattering noise.
As suddenly as it had started, it stopped with a metallic click. At the same time Susan became conscious that she was not alone. The memory of the previous evening swept over her, and she remembered that she was still at Mark’s apartment. She lay back, bringing up the covers to cover her nakedness.
“What in God’s name was that noise for?” said Susan to the blackness.
“It’s an alarm. I suppose you’ve never heard one before,” said a voice from beside her.
“An alarm. Mark, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Like hell it is; it’s five-thirty and time to get rolling.”
Mark threw back the covers and put his feet onto the floor. He turned on the lamp next to the bed and rubbed his eyes.
“Mark, you’ve got to be out of your squash. Five-thirty, Christ.” The voice was muffled; Susan had her head underneath the pillow.
“I’ve got to see my patients, grab a bit to eat, and be ready for rounds at six-thirty. Surgery starts at seven-thirty sharp.” Mark stood up and stretched. Disregarding his nakedness and the coldness, he started for the bathroom.
“You surgical masochists defy imagination. Why don’t you start at nine or some other reasonable time? Why seven-thirty?”
“It’s always been seven-thirty,” said Bellows, pausing in the doorway.
“That’s a great reason. It’s seven-thirty because it’s always been seven-thirty—God, it’s that type of reasoning that’s so typical in medicine. Five-thirty in the morning. Shit, Mark, why didn’t you tell me about this when you invited me to stay last night? I would have gone back to the dorm.”
Bellows walked back to the bedside, looking down at the mound of covers indicating Susan’s body. The pillow was still over her head.
“If you’d take your surgical rotation a bit more seriously, I wouldn’t have to tell you what is the normal modus operandi. Time to get up, beauty queen.”
Bellows grabbed the edge of the blankets and, with a forceful jerk, pulled all the covers from the bed, leaving Susan bared to the elements, except for her head, still concealed by the pillow.
“Some hospitality,” said Susan, jumping up. She grabbed a blanket and twisted herself into an instant cocoon, then collapsed back onto the bed.
“Ah, but today is the first day of your new leaf. You’re going to be a normal medical student.”