Keeping Secrets

by Lisa Eugene

  Dex had been right about this medical school. The competition was fierce. There were a few students from wealthy, trust-fund families, who felt entitled to be here, who looked down their noses at a plain girl from Queens. Rhonda was one of them.

  Her parents were alumni of the medical school and donated a lot of money to the program. She was wicked smart and unapologetically ruthless, always jockeying for the best way to find favor with our deans. She had no qualms about belittling other students, or highlighting their shortcomings, in order to make herself look better.

  She’d also applied to the program at the Mayo Clinic, and walked around like she’d already earned the spot. This Mayo Clinic internship was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’d worked damn hard and my parents were counting on me. It was almost a reality and I wasn’t about to let Rhonda, or anyone else for that matter, get in my way. I had to stay focused and in control.

  I removed my glasses and handed them to a flabbergasted John. His eyes practically popped out of his head when I turned to face Rhonda again, pushing up my sleeves.

  “One…two…three…”

  With a nasty curse, she side-stepped out of my path. Ignoring her, I walked over to Monika. Monika, Tina, and a few other students stared like hypnotized deer, trying to digest what had almost occurred. I drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  A physical altercation would’ve incurred a severe reprimand—or might’ve even gotten us expelled from the program. This school was quick to discipline at the slightest infraction, the judgment often severe. One thing was for sure, both of us would’ve been out of the running for valedictorian. I’d taken a chance, but I knew there was no way Rhonda would’ve risked losing that honor. I wouldn’t have risked it either, but she didn’t know that. She’d just been bluffed.

  “I’m so sorry, Monika.” I glanced at the broken lock, then peeked into her locker. There were a few scattered items, but nothing of importance left.

  “Oh my God, Alexa. Are you crazy?” John came up behind me and handed me my glasses. “Were you really going to go at it with Rhonda?”

  Carla stood behind him. “Rhonda’s a freak.” She smiled. “That would’ve been a sight. Geek versus freak.”

  I wanted to tell Carla to shut the hell up, but I didn’t need more attention. She just annoyed me. She was also in the running for valedictorian, but she never seemed to give a shit about getting it. I assumed that her locker was spared since she wasn’t upset.

  “Plus, what is she worried about?” Carla continued. “Her daddy will just buy her new equipment by the time the test rolls around.”

  “I can’t believe she accused you right in front of everyone,” Tina said, tossing Rhonda a dirty look.

  I shrugged, but turned my attention back to Monika. I didn’t want to talk about it. The last thing I wanted was to stir this already boiling pot. I wasn’t an attention whore, and knew that to further discuss the incident would only give it life.

  “Maybe Professor Evans can stagger the test on Monday and you can use some of my equipment.”

  Monika sniffled, her eyes rimmed red. “Thanks, Alexa, but I doubt she’d do that. You know how she is. I’m screwed. And she never gives makeups. This just sucks.”

  Professor Evans was tough. For this practicum, we’d have to do an exam and evaluation on plastic dummies with computerized medical ailments.

  “Maybe you should go to the dean and let him know what happened. The school might have extra equipment,” I suggested.

  One of the students poked his head into the back to let us know rounds were starting. I handed Monika a tissue and mumbled words meant for encouragement. They sounded lame even to my ears. I’d be despondent, too, if this had happened to me. Either way, I’d keep turning over ideas. Maybe there was a way to help her.

  Friday night, Tina, Monika, and I had an intensive study session at John’s apartment. I sat on the bare floor, taking notes on my laptop before we partnered off to practice exams on each other, which was a joke because we were all disgustingly healthy.

  “I want to partner with Alexa,” Tina announced when we stood to get our stethoscopes.

  Monika dug through her bag. I’d appealed to a few doctors at the hospital and managed to borrow equipment she could use for the practicum. I’d even dared to entreat the unapproachable Dr. Leon. Surprisingly, he’d been kind enough to lend me his valuable otoscopic set, tools for looking in the ear.

  Tina and John had thought I’d gone mad when I had the idea to ask him, but we’d run out of options. The other physicians we’d asked had been reluctant to part with such expensive equipment. Perhaps his generosity had something to do with how well I’d performed at grand rounds. Or perhaps it was some sort of test of responsibility, as Tina and John speculated.

  The deans were constantly judging us, evaluating, looking for minute gradations that would move one student up in rank and another down. We were constantly sliding up and down a scale, passing or failing someone’s personal test. And with the race for valedictorian so close, every score mattered. But even if that were the case here, I was just happy to help out a friend.

  I’d promised Dr. Leon—sworn on my life, that I’d return his equipment in the same pristine condition I’d received it in. Monika was extremely responsible or I wouldn’t have gone out on a limb. The school hadn’t been helpful at all, claiming it wasn’t their responsibility to provide back-up equipment, no matter the circumstances. You’d think with the amount of money we paid for tuition, they could at least throw us a bone.

  “You partnered with Alexa last time,” John sulked to Tina, pulling my attention. “I pissed on my last exam and I really need help. I want Alexa.”

  He stretched his tall, thin form toward the ceiling. We’d been sitting on the floor and cramps were attacking my body, too.

  “We all know you want Alexa,” Monika teased, giving me a wink.

  I rolled my eyes and looked at the bickering two.

  “It’s my apartment, so I get first dibs.” He turned and grinned at me.

  “Please, go ahead, objectify me,” I tossed out dryly. “Pretend I’m not even standing here in front of you.”

  “It’s not you. It’s your brain.” He chuckled.

  “Ah, that makes me feel so much better.”

  “John,” Monika called from across the room. “You better watch out. Didn’t you see that ginormous hunk waiting for her last week outside the hospital? I don’t think he’d appreciate you objectifying any part of her.”

  John stiffened his lips and affected a ludicrous bodybuilder pose, flexing muscles he didn’t have. “I could take him. Check out these bad boys.”

  Tina and Monika erupted with laughter while I shook my head in mock dismay. I could count the muscles on John’s skinny frame with one hand.

  “Women love these. My girl can’t get enough of them,” he added smugly.

  “Girl? What girl?” Tina mocked him, giving him a look of disbelief.

  I felt bad as the girls made fun of John. He wasn’t a ladies’ man, but he was a sweet guy who’d probably make someone a great boyfriend.

  “I’ve got a new girlfriend.”

  “That’s awesome, John. Good for you,” I said, cutting off whatever else Tina was about to say.

  “He’s lying. He just doesn’t want to be compared to that hottie of yours.” Monika tossed her words my way.

  I knew it would only be a matter of time before the conversation steered back to Dex. Tina and Monika had inquired about him several times already this week. I’d barely managed to hold them off with vague responses. Women noticed a guy like Dex. He didn’t blend into the wall like I did. He was the wall. And women wanted to lean on it, and rub against it, and climb it. He was a solid block of well-constructed male.

  Him? Giving up dating? Please!

  Not that it was any of my business. He wasn’t my hottie. We were just friends—if barely that. The women he took an interest in were undoubtedly thin and gorgeous. He’d probably
gotten a good laugh when I’d said I didn’t date—as if he’d ever consider me dating material. But I’d just wanted him to know where my head was.

  I wanted him to know what my priorities were and to reassure him that I didn’t have romantic designs on him. I did enjoy his company, there was no denying that. He was easy to talk to. We could skip about to any topic, it seemed, and have a spirited conversation. There was no competition, no agenda and no judgment. It was just…nice. There was a certain freedom in that, like a loosening of everyday restraints, like taking a step without worrying where my foot would land.

  I’d originally sized him up as the biggest asshole. On some level, I’d even blamed him for delaying my arrival at the hospital, for making me miss my last moments with Jake. It was crazy how things had turned out.

  He’d called last night to firm up our plans for tomorrow and we’d spent an unnoticed hour chatting on the phone. After putting in all the time studying this week, I was looking forward to taking a break tomorrow for the car show.

  “Soooo?” Tina stood in front of me, waiting for a response to a question I hadn’t heard. By the eager look on her face, I knew it had something to do with my new friend.

  My face heated. I pushed up my glasses and looked to my friends.

  “Soooo, nothing. We’re just friends. Period. Let’s get cracking. For tests with this degree of difficulty, it’s recommended to study at least three and a half hours a day to get an A. This exam isn’t going to ace itself.” I grinned at them. “Now, who’s got dibs on my brain?”

  I stepped on the scale naked, as I did every morning, and tried to squash the butterflies beating a drum roll to my weigh-in.

  I never weighed myself in clothes. They could deceive the scale by as much as two pounds. Squeezing my eyes shut, I summoned courage and cautiously peeked down. Everything rested on those red, neon numbers. Those digits could dictate the flux of my mood, the tone of my day. They could fill me with joy, or smash apart my spirit. I shouldn’t allow three simple numbers to hold such power over me, but they did. They were relevant, they were meaningful, and they were frightening.

  It was a constant struggle, but I needed to lose weight. It was an obsession, a Litmus test of my will power, a gauge of my control. Because if I couldn’t control myself and my own ravenous urges, how could I be a master of anything else in my life. How could I keep it all together?

  If I were thin, I would feel better. I’d be happier with my appearance, be empowered. People would look at me differently and see someone beautiful, someone worthy, someone in control. And maybe this constant ache in my chest would disappear. Maybe the deep, dark well that had always tunneled through me would be flooded with light, and there’d be nothing inside but crystal-clear water.

  Instead, I was this sloppy, overweight cow who lacked restraint, lacked control, who was breaking apart a little bit at a time, like a drifting iceberg chipping small pieces into the ocean. It was plain for everyone to see my failures. They stood out clearly, no matter how hard I tried to hide them with baggy shirts and loose jeans.

  My father always said that people can tell what’s on the inside by what you display on the outside. We were constantly judged, weighed, analyzed, and summed up before we even opened our mouths. Image, even an inaccurate one, was the initial summation of our value. It was, in essence, a degrading thing to be so basically reduced. It was a petty societal construct. Intellectually, I could disregard it; emotionally I was consumed by it. I hated my image. It was best to cover up, insulate myself, and hide away from scrutiny, from judgment.

  I couldn’t understand. I’d always excelled at everything I’d put my mind to. I’d had to.

  Why couldn’t I do this?

  For years I’d struggled to lose weight. Mine fluctuated up and down, but never landed where I needed it to be.

  What was wrong with me?

  Maybe I wasn’t purging enough. I wasn’t trying hard enough. I was still eating too much.

  I stepped off the scale and stared hard at my pale body.

  Too many curves.

  Too wide.

  Too big.

  Too many flawed images filling my vision. My gaze skipped from the unattractive pouch of my belly to my bloated thighs that were inseparable friends. My legs spread thick, buttressing wide, flared hips. A round, dimpled backside added to my ample mass. And my breasts hung. Large. Round. Unattractive—ugh!

  I hated my body.

  I was so disgusted that if I had a knife in my hand, I could slice off the extra flesh. That thought frightened me, poured terror into the marrow of my bones. Although I knew it was irrational, I saw it clearly and felt the impulse viscerally before my mind let it go. That destructive thought dissolved like silk in a fire. It was an urge I had to burn quickly for fear it would flame to life. Hatred roiled like a tornado inside and despondent tears clouded my vision.

  Just what I needed. Another fucking pity party.

  With an oath, I spun away. There were still a few hours before the car show. If I hurried I could get in an hour of running, maybe two, and still get to the studying I needed to do this morning.

  The Javits Center was a huge complex on the West Side. Dex had picked me up in a white Range Rover and we’d made our way uptown in no time. During the ride, we discussed his trip and the company he was considering investing in; a pharmaceutical research firm working on a drug to reduce the side effects of chemo.

  I’d always had an interest in pharmaceutical research and found myself listening attentively.

  “That would be awesome if this drug really works,” I said as we made our way through a pair of large, glass doors. The cavernous space teemed with people attending the show. “I’ve always had a passion for research. I seriously considered going into it.”

  His gaze trained on me. “What made you decide to be a doctor? It seems pretty stressful, especially oncology.” He smiled patiently, his dimple splitting his left cheek. “And don’t say ‘to help people’.”

  I shrugged. We’d talked a little about the medical program on the way here, and the position at the Mayo Clinic. “I’ve wanted to be a doctor all my life. It’s a great opportunity to make a difference in the world,” I answered, realizing it was the same answer I always gave to that question. It was automatic, programmed.

  “You just seem to have a knack for facts and statistics. You’d do well in research, Stats.”

  I laughed lightly at the nickname, shifting as he took my elbow, directing me away from oncoming traffic. I felt his nearness acutely, like a warm bubble surrounding me, and I tried to ignore it as he searched for his PA, who was meeting us here.

  “That has to be tough, especially when your patients don’t do well, like that little boy.” His gentle squeeze on my elbow caused a lump to form in my throat. It wasn’t just the memory of Jake that provoked it, but Dex’s sensitivity. Unable to speak, I nodded.

  “Well, hello!” A man’s voice boomed from somewhere behind us, stalling our feet.

  We turned to two men hurrying toward us, twin smiles wide in greeting. The shorter one, dressed impeccably in a corduroy jacket and paisley bow tie, seemed frenzied. Reaching Dex, he eagerly clapped his back.

  “It’s about time! You’re late. We were about to go in without you.” That came from the man whom I assumed was Henry.

  “Don’t worry, I talked him off the ledge,” the other man said to Dex with a grin. “What kind of sandwich would we be without meat?”

  Dex gave me wink. “I’ll explain later.” Then with a laugh, he turned to the men. “This is my friend, Alexa.”

  I thought he emphasized the word friend, but could’ve been mistaken.

  Henry didn’t hide his surprise to see me. Offering an amiable smile, he shook my hand. “You’re the hit-and-run. This is Tom.”

  I nodded to the man at his side while I processed his reference to the accident.

  Tom grinned from ear to ear and clapped happily. “So excited!” He turned to Dex. “More meat for o
ur sandwich.”

  Again puzzled, I looked to Dex who chuckled. “Just go with it. I’m just happy I’m the meat and not the buns.”

  Hooking his arm in my elbow, Tom shot a glance at Dex’s ass. “He might enjoy someone pinching that loaf.”

  Dex’s jaw dropped. I couldn’t help laughing at the shocked look on his face.

  Henry grinned, eyebrows raised maniacally. “Is he blushing in front of the pretty girl?” Rubbing his palms with relish, he promised, “This is going to be a fun day!”

  I laughed again as Tom escorted me to the ticket booth. I could already tell I was going to love Dex’s friends.

  The next few hours sped by. From the camaraderie and constant teasing, it was obvious the men had been friends for a long time and shared a deep affection. Surprisingly, Dex and I gravitated toward the same vehicles, and often found ourselves teamed up against Tom and Henry, whose tastes favored aesthetics rather than performance and mechanics.

  At one point, Tom dared us all to try to fit into a tiny, futuristic vehicle that claimed to accommodate a family of six. Bravely accepting the challenge, we crammed in, jutting elbows and knees, and twisted torsos. Things didn’t get weird until I found myself folded like origami on Dex’s lap while he struggled to pull his head and shoulders into the vehicle. As the biggest one, he had the hardest time.

  “What family of six would fit in here?” he cursed from somewhere behind me. “A family of midgets?”

  “I don’t know, but that better not be your hand on my ass, Dex,” Tom heaved.

  “I hope not,” Dex replied. “but I stopped feeling my hands five minutes ago. I think my entire body is numb from sitting like this.”

  “With Alexa on your lap, I find it hard to believe that all of you is numb,” Henry joked in the open manner I’d grown used to.

  It was a good thing I was curled up with my head practically kissing my knees because my entire body flamed bright red. Not only could I feel the imprint of Dex’s muscular thighs beneath me, there was the distinct pressure of something against my butt that I knew wasn’t the stick shift. Not that he had an erection, but there was a trunk full of some serious junk.