How am I supposed to be a surgeon when I can't even hear or speak the word 'penis' without blushing from ear to ear?
I'm a twenty year old virgin who can't say the word penis.
I graduated high school with a 4.0 GPA, glowing references, passed the MCAT and I'm finally testing in the top percent of my class. I'm on track to go to Harvard Medical School, I'd been dreaming of nothing else since I could remember for God's sake.
Yet, I cannot say the word penis.
I thought I'd enjoy the human anatomy course of my upper biology major, but when Professor Simmons had told us we'd been allocated a subject for a ten minute presentation in front of the class and I'd seen 'male anatomy' beside my name, I'd wished the ground would swallow me whole.
I'd stumbled around the word more than I'd like to admit; I'd also struggled with gonads, scrotum, and rectum, but none quite as bad as penis. The chuckles that had vibrated through the room were enough for me to never want to show my face in that class again, and the smirk on Simmons's face had led me to believe he'd done it on purpose.
Professor Simmons is a slightly rotund, grey haired man in his sixties. His jokes are awful, he has a perpetual faint smell of cigars and coffee. And he's singlehandedly the reason I'm still at the university.
Two years ago, I was entering into my sophomore year and everything had been going to plan; my grades were great, as they always were. Ella, Kate, and I had moved into our apartment, relieved to get away from the chaotic dormitories.
Then my Dad, my best friend, got diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer.
He was ill for four months, and then he died. My entire world crumbled.
The courteous understanding and compassionate leave from college had seemingly ended, but I was still missing. I missed lectures, and even the ones I attended, I didn't even hear anything; or write anything down. I was absent in both body and mind. Extensions on deadlines only got me so far, and even when I did submit anything, it wasn't good enough. I was failing, I was failing spectacularly. Threatening letters started being sent to the apartment about me getting kicked off the course.
I'd convinced myself that I didn't care. So what? Kick me off. I wasn't good enough anyway; the life of esteemed Dr Lou Richards, graduate of Harvard Medical School was gone. My love of surgery and medicine had turned into distain. Four years of college, four years of medical school, four more years of residency, all seemed ridiculous now. Futile.
They hadn't saved him.
What could I possibly do? He'd died and left me to this big, huge, terrifying world without him in it.
Professor Simmons would not allow it. He hounded me, tutored me, gave me extra reading materials, and let me sit with him on his lunch breaks so that I wasn't alone. He wasn't uncomfortable or careful around me like everyone else had been. He was angry with me. He said he saw something in me, and I was fucking things up, I was fucking my future up, the future that my Dad wanted for me.
I finally started to catch up, time was passing by, and I scraped through sophomore year with a decent grade. Then he decided it was time to pick it up a notch, decent wouldn't be enough. Junior year was my time to excel again. So, I did, I graded top of my class.
Then, I was a senior and the MCAT was coming. It was recommended that if you planned on going to Medical school straight from college, then you should take the MCAT at the beginning of senior year. So, when I got back the test results, confirming that I'd passed the MCAT and was eligible for Harvard Med, the first person I'd wanted to tell wasn't here anymore. But Professor Simmons was a pretty amazing second option, even if he did drive me insane with his teasing.
Safe to say, I was relieved when the class ended. I packed all my belongings up in a rush, my shift at the coffee house started in twenty minutes.
The Burnt Toast coffeehouse is a haven for bookworms and nerds. It's a small and cosy place, tucked away in a quiet street, lined with maple trees, five minutes away from campus. I'd worked here the entirety of being at Michigan; the plan was to get into medical school and have enough cash saved away I'd be able to buy an apartment. I hadn't touched the inheritance that my Dad had left me, it just didn't feel right.
I wanted to work for it; and I admit, I wasn't the most natural barista; but I figured it was good practise for surgery, it involved memory, multitasking and complex machinery. Now, with maybe the odd bump in the road, I was a coffee goddess. Even the dairy free, gluten free, fat free, sugar free, vegan Karen's of the world liked what I made. I know I'll miss this place when I graduate, it had been my quiet, safe space, it smelt like coffee, chocolate, leather, and old books.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I looked down to see a couple of messages in our Home Sweet Home WhatsApp group between the three of us.
Kate: Coffeehouse, 18:30 x
Ella: See you there girls xoxo
It was one of our little traditions, every Wednesday it was my turn to lock up and towards the end of my shift, Ella and Kate would join me and we walked home together. It wasn't completely selfless, they had free coffee and blueberry muffins to look forward to.
Honestly, I hadn't spent much time with Ella since Saturday morning. She had been uncharacteristically quiet on the journey home and she'd stayed in her room a lot whilst I'd been studying or working overtime. I didn't know what had happened, something had shifted between her and Marcus that morning, all it took was a few words from Carter and Marcus had waved her off like a bad smell.
The place was empty at six thirty, I was sanitising tables when the bell above the entrance rang, Ella and Kate's chatter swept through on a cool breeze.
"Lou, can you please tell Kate why it's not appropriate to wait next to your philosophy professors Honda to tell him just how great you found his PowerPoint?" I wring out the cloth and throw it over my shoulder, staring at my best friends.
"You did what?!"
"She makes it sound so creepy! It wasn't creepy. I just wanted him to know that I appreciated the work he puts into it." Kate throws her coat down over the back of the leather sofa, before plopping down onto it on a sigh.
"Creep! Stage one creeper!" Ella comes up and kisses me on the cheek before grabbing three blueberry muffins and going back to sit beside Kate. I'm laughing as I pour our americanos into mammoth mugs.
"I think he's lonely, his wife left him last semester and he seems so- he seems so sad." Kate's adorably curly blonde hair is breaking out of her French braid, her baby hairs bouncing as she talks animatedly, using her hands to express herself as she speaks.
"It's creepy that you know that!" Ella takes a bite around her blueberry muffin.
"How do you know that?" I ask, Kate picks at a blueberry and chews her lip before answering.
"He told me."
"When did he tell you?" Ella and I ask almost unanimously.
"Kevin's driven me home a couple of times."
"Kevin?!" Ella guffaws.
"Professor Neilson is like mid-forties right?" I ask Kate, her eyes drop to the table, and she nods. This is stupidly inappropriate. I'm fairly sure fraternising with a student like that is a sackable offence.
"Lou, come on, you're always in Professor Simmons's office. He worships you!" Kate waves over at me, my eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling.
"Like a daughter, Kate. Trust me, Simmons' and I only ever talk school work."
"Yea, Simmons' just wants the credit for when Lou is killing it in New York, he doesn't want to bend her over his desk." I grimace at the thought, but she goes on. "Oh Kevin, please, give it to me. Wait, no, I want you to keep the cardigan on." Ella teases with her mouth full, sounding like a girl off a dodgy porn movie, crumbs spilling onto her chin, Kate throws her napkin at her.
It was a relief to see her laughing. I wasn't sure if she'd spoken to Kate about how the party ended on Friday, Kate got back Tuesday morning and she'd asked a couple of times, but I thought it would be best coming from Ella.
"He listens! He's travelled, smart and he's kind, kinder than the sociopathic jocks I've spoken to before." My eyes shoot over to Ella as Kate says the words, she swallows slowly, suddenly finding the seam of the sofa extremely interesting, averting my gaze. "What did I say?" Kate looks between us both, feeling the awkward silence. "I knew it. Something happened at that party didn't it?"
"Ella." I prompt, she seems to take a huge breath, closing her eyes tightly, gathering strength before she speaks.
"The thing with Marcus is over. Well, the thing with Marcus never even began. It's actually ridiculous to even call it a thing." Kate looks over at me as Ella babbles, confusion thick on her brows. "You know, he actually offered to give me ten dollars that morning? For the Uber." My stomach twists as she talks, I knew that morning had turned uncomfortable and I knew that Marcus Sanders was a player, but they'd connected. They were adorable together.
"Marcus Sanders?" Kate was as in the dark as I had been.
"The one and only." Ella scrunches up her napkin savagely.
"You slept with Marcus Sanders? He's a player El."
"I fucking know." There's a moment of silence as we drink our coffee and Kate tries to comprehend the jigsaw pieces of information Ella had given her. "The first time we slept together, I'd thought it was all alcohol and just pure physical attraction, it even fulfilled some kind of jock fantasy of mine. But I'd thought about him, and by Friday night, I couldn't wait to see him. We had an amazing night, the sexual connection was still incredible, but we talked. We really talked." I reach across the mahogany table and squeeze her hand. "On Friday night I was the girl he spoke to about his fear of sea snakes," she laughs quietly, sadly, before she goes on "Saturday morning, I was the walking vagina who gets kicked out and blocked. I hate myself. Did Carter say anything to you that night?"
"Carter Hughes?" Kate's eyes bug out of her head.
"Yea, Carter, Marcus and Seamus O'Leary live together." Ella explains. I stay silent, looking through the front door praying a customer would appear out of thin air.
"I'm sorry-" Kate holds up one of her hands "please just give me a second to absorb this. I go away one damn time." Kate sits back and chews on the last of her blueberry muffin.
"He didn't say anything about Marcus, no." I respond quietly.
"What did you talk about?" Ella pries further.
"Honestly?" I chug my americano, set it on the table and crack my knuckles. "He asked me to go to bed with him."
"You're a virgin!" Kate splutters, suddenly I'm incredibly grateful that a customer hadn't materialised at the door.
"Yes, I hadn't forgotten about my hymen Kate."
"No, sorry, it's just that everyone knows how those guys operate. One of the girls in my class was talking about a physical fight that broke out at Delta last week. A girl got her nose broken! All because it came out that three sorority sisters had slept with Carter."
I fight to ignore and cover up the sharp pang of discomfort that ripples through my body, I had no right to feel that way. Not only that, but I also didn't want to feel anything. Kate goes on.
"They work their way through the sororities like a game." Ella takes a sharp intake of breath.
"Kate." I warn.
"Oh El, I'm sure Marcus isn't- shit. Sorry, that was incredibly insensitive. I'm sure he's not-"
"The same? No, you're right. He's exactly the same. I was foolish to think I was different."
"You are different Ella. You're beautiful, funny and he doesn't deserve you." Kate reassures her, Ella is all of those things; she really is, and she definitely deserves better.
We sat like that for a while, Kate wanted more details about my evening, so I told her about Carter, strategically leaving out the part of being alone at Alpha Sigma. Likewise, I avoided talking about the way my body had felt in those brief moments on the couch, and that he'd chosen to sleep beneath a beach towel so I would be warm. I couldn't make sense of it; I didn't want it to become a bigger deal than it was. Instead, I told her about him offering me a ride home, watching Saving Private Ryan and that he drank chocolate milk before bed, I also told her how he'd slammed his door after I'd rejected him.
A couple of customers came in for takeout, I made their drinks and went back to sit with my roommates before my shift ended at eight thirty. I shared my experience from anatomy class today and unsurprisingly, Ella's mood had significantly improved by the time we were walking home in the rain, arms linked, and I didn't even mind her mocking about my 'penis' issue because it was better than her doubting herself and thinking about that fucking football player.