him. They should conduct some test runs, don't you think?'
'I don't know that that's necessarily the inevitable conclusion,' I said quickly.
He laughed. 'Well, let's use you as a case in point,' he said and sat on the settee. 'Reading between the lines concerning what you told me about your boyfriend and you, I assume that you and he never made love. Correct?'
'I don't want to discuss my personal life,' I said.
'You have to become purely objective, even about yourself, if you want to be a good physician. That's why I say that some people are just not psychologically prepared to become doctors. They might be smart —valedictorians, even—but if they can't bridge the psychological gaps—'
'I can handle the psychological gaps,' I snapped.
'Fine. Then you shouldn't have any trouble discussing yourself. You're human, right? Every reaction you have, other people have, too, people you're going to examine and treat. When a man touches you, your body does the same things another woman's body does when a man touches her,' he said and shrugged. 'Don't you see that?'
'Yes, but . . .'
'So. Let's continue. It's much better to work these problems out with real subjects than just to recite lines from textbooks. You might be suffering from frigidity,' he said nodding firmly.
'What?'
'It's a medical term for the incapacity of the female to derive normal pleasure from sexual intercourse. It's right there in the textbook, bottom of the page on the right side.' He indicated the passage with his right forefinger.
My eyes fell to the page, and I read it just as he had recited it. Then I looked up and shook my head. 'That's not my problem. I don't even have a problem. I just didn't feel—'
'Let's not jump to any diagnosis just yet,' he said holding up his hand. 'All right? We might have to refer you to a psychiatrist.'
'What?' I started to laugh, but he shook his head.
'One of the most important things you'll learn as a medical student is when to recognize that your patient's problem is beyond your ability and requires the attention of a specialist. Doctors get themselves and their patients into trouble when they don't recognize that,' he added. 'Are you following me? I don't mean to go too fast.'
'I follow you. I just don't see how I'm helping you study by talking about myself and why I broke up with my boyfriend.'
'Oh, but you are, because it's a situation with which I must be familiar. As I said, we had this case just today, and I'm sure Dr. Bardot is going to test me on this first thing tomorrow. So,' he continued sitting back, his arms folded across his chest, 'you never slept with this boyfriend. Correct?'
'Yes.'
'Have you ever slept with anyone?'
I blushed an even deeper red and hated myself for it. 'I'm asking purely as a physician, not as a gossip columnist,' he added.
'No.'
'Ahem,' he said, a sickly arrogant smile forming across his lips. 'I'm sure you had ample opportunity, so what prevented you?'
'I don't sleep around, and I'm not interested in sex for the sake of sex. For me it has to be part of something bigger, something . . .'
'What?' he pursued.
'Magical. Love. And don't laugh,' I told him sternly.
'I'm not going to laugh, but you might just be rationalizing, making up excuses for your deep fears, your frigidity.'
'I am not frigid,' I insisted, practically bouncing on the settee for emphasis.
'You don't tighten up when a man touches you?' he asked. I simply stared at him. 'You do, don't you?'
'No.
'The lady doth protest too much, methinks,' he said with a snide smile.
'You can be very infuriating,' I said.
'I don't mean to be. Look, I'm a doctor and you want to become one. There's nothing about your physiology I don't know, and from what I already know about you, I feel safe in saying you are pretty well info med. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, however.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Maybe because you are so intelligent, you are too aware of what's going on, and therefore you lose the magic you claim to want so much. Maybe you are doomed never to find it. Maybe when you think of a human heart, you think only of ventricles and arteries.'
I felt my throat tighten and tears burn under my eyelids.
'Am I striking a sensitive note? Because if I am, I'm doing a good job of analyzing your problem,' he said.
'I don't have a problem,' I replied, but not as firmly as before.
He reached out to take my hand. I started to pull it back.
