“Mr. Clinton, you promised to make it up to me,” I reminded, my eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“I’ll decide when…” He shot me a glance, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.
I furrowed my eyebrow, surprised by his response. Then I remembered my ulterior motives.
“Mr. Clinton, would you mind tutoring me today?” His expression turned thoughtful, and I held my breath.
“Which course?”
“Anatomy,” I replied, barely containing my excitement.
His brow furrowed. “You are struggling with Anatomy, it’s a crucial course for nursing students.” I winced, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.
Did I say I was struggling with Anatomy? Well, if I don’t pass the cutoff mark, ‘struggling’ would be an understatement.
CARRY OVER! Would knock on my door and I wouldn’t want that…
“I missed the test…” I admitted, my face scrunched up in discomfort.
Luckily, I wasn’t confessing to my father; I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with his loud scolding.
Then a worrying thought struck me. “Mr. Clinton, please don’t tell father.”
He chuckled, “I can’t promise I won’t.” He stood up and left the dining area.
Is he kidding me now?
“Mr. Clinton, please… I promise I’ll make up for it in my examination.”
I laughed at myself inwardly.
Fifty-five percent wouldn’t be enough to guarantee an A. How would I make up for the lost forty-five percent?
He turned and looked at me incredulously, “That’s not an assurance, you lost almost half…”
“Please don’t tell father…” I didn’t let him say the rest. I clasped my hands and tilted my head slightly, emitting a soft gaze. He looked at me helplessly and sighed. “Fine. I won’t tell him and I will tutor you only for today.”
I smiled widely. “Thanks, Mr. Clinton.” I dashed to my room to get my materials and scampered back to the living room, but he wasn’t there. So, I scurried to his room and knocked on the door. “Mr. Clinton,” I let myself in without waiting for his response. I met him sitting on his bed. The moment he noticed my presence, he placed his hand on his chin. “Sarah, not here, let’s go to the study.” He stood up and nudged me out of the room and closed the door.
“I prefer the room,” I muttered, and followed behind him.
With one glance at his study, I knew it would give me headaches if I stayed there for more than five minutes… LOTS OF BOOKS!
“Mr. Clinton, I don’t like this place. It looks like a haunted house.”
“I don’t understand,” he asked skeptically.
Though I loved medicine, I loved the practical aspect more; the theory sometimes freaks me out. Now seeing tons of books all over the ample room, I realized I made the best decision of studying nursing instead of Medicine and Surgery.
What was giving me the creeps was the way the books were strewed and arranged neatly.
“Mr. Clinton, can we go somewhere else, this place is simply not for someone like me.” My eyes were wide open, scanning the whole room.
He furrowed his eyebrow. “Isn’t this the best place to learn?”
I snorted. “What am I? A professor?” I clutched my materials to my chest and made my way to the door. “Mr. Clinton, aren’t you coming?”
With my serious refusal, he complied and followed me out of the room. “Tell me, where is the best place to tutor you?”
‘I prefer your room, of course,’ I didn’t say that out loud. “Don’t you have another study with fewer books on display?”
He chuckled, finally realizing the reason I rejected the room. “Were you scared of the books?”
I nodded, and he shook his head in utter disbelief. “Oh Sarah…”
He decided we use the big couch. “Which of the topics will you like me to tutor you on?”
“Digestive system,” I replied and opened my notebook.
“Okay.”
After writing the topic in my book, I lifted my face, getting ready to learn.
“So tell me, what do you understand by the digestive system?” He asked, resting his arm on the couch headrest.
“Hm… it’s a very, very, very complex process of breaking down food to be absorbed and utilized by the body.” I smiled, waiting for him to compliment me.
“Why did you add ‘very, very’ to the definition?” He asked, and I chuckled.
“Because it’s a very, very complex process, all those grammatical details are annoying. For me, ‘very, very’ is just fine.”
“…,” he turned speechless.
“Okay, fine, you win. Write that in your exam.”
He closed the book and sat upright. “Let me explain the organs involved…”
He went on and on, explaining the whole module. At first, I earnestly listened, taking down notes, but slowly my attention dwindled when my gaze began to travel all over him. My eyes moved to his neck, then to his lips… It remained fixed on those rosy lips. I exhaled deeply, while my brain sparked from the fire of infatuation.
‘Sarah, stay calm, stay calm…’
I kept telling myself, but my heart refused to take the order. It drummed inside my chest wildly. I’m losing it! My body began to move in it’s own accord, slowly moving forward to capture those lips.
Oh no.. my heart beat, I could hear it with my ears.
“Will you just keep quiet!” I yelled loudly to stop my heart from racing, but a scary thought jolted me back to reality.
Did I scream that out loud? Oh, no…
I covered my mouth, my eyes widened. “Mr. Clinton… I… I…”
He was dumbfounded. “What?” He stared at me, waiting for an explanation for my behavior.
Oh God, I told him to keep quiet. I even yelled.
“Mr. Clinton…”
“Sarah, what was the meaning of that…?” The frown on his face was making me feel uneasy. Embarrassment washed over me. I began fiddling with my hands, racking my brain for a believable excuse…
“Sarah…” He looked angry, and I was dying with nervousness.
Goddammit! Where is that light bulb? Please appear over my head.