Suicide Med Read online

  Mason looks like he’s about to tell Rachel off, but Abe interrupts by coming up behind me and kissing me gently on the neck.

  “Yeah, stop talking dirty to my girl, Mason,” he says with a grin.

  “No kissing in lab,” Rachel snaps. “God, you two are going to make me vomit.”

  Rachel’s right for a change. Abe being a little affectionate in the anatomy lab doesn’t bother me so much, but I really don’t like it when he surprised me with a box of chocolates in here. “There’s a time and a place, Abe!” I said as I took the chocolates from my apologetic boyfriend and tossed them in the trash. Seriously, ew.

  But I don’t really blame him. He’s trying so hard to impress me that sometimes he just goes a little too far.

  _____

  The second anatomy exam is much less painful than the first, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t thanks to studying with Abe. It makes me feel a bit like a loser that it took Seth’s tutoring to get me through pre-med courses in college, and now Abe is carrying me through anatomy.

  “I think I’m holding you back,” I sometimes say to Abe when I’m feeling especially guilty.

  “No way,” Abe insists. “I learn the material better when I go over it with you.”

  It could be true, although I suspect he’d help me even if it weren’t.

  This time I wait until the grades are posted rather than stalking Dr. Conlon in his office. I make Abe come with me for moral support, although he’s oddly uninterested in his own grade. The grades are listed on a piece of paper by our mailboxes, although thankfully our names aren’t used. We each have a five-digit ID number to locate our grades. I scan the list until I find my ID number, then let out a little involuntary squeal when I see my grade: seventy-six.

  That’s a Pass! Not even a Low Pass! It’s a bona fide Pass!

  I throw my arms around Abe, an action that might have knocked down a smaller man. But Abe just laughs and hugs me back. Then it turns into at least a minute of making out. When we finally separate, I cry, “I passed!”

  “I figured that much,” he says with a grin.

  “Not even a Low Pass,” I say proudly. Although I feel a little silly for being proud of what is essentially a C. “How did you do?”

  I assumed he’d have done better than me, so I was prepared for that. What I wasn’t prepared for is the confused expression on his face.

  “Oh,” he says. “I guess I should check.”

  What the hell? How could we be standing a foot away from our midterm grades, but he didn’t even bother to look at his own grade?

  “A 91,” Abe announces. He shrugs. “Pretty good, I guess.”

  “Pretty good?” I repeat, astonished. “Abe, that’s awesome! That’s Honors.”

  “Yeah,” he says and allows himself the tiniest of smiles. Although I can see in his eyes that he truly doesn’t care.

  And that is just super weird, folks.

  Chapter 15

  Although I’d been looking forward to Thanksgiving break as a reprieve from school, it ends up leaving me more exhausted than anything. My parents were in rare form and managed to pick on me nonstop nearly the entire long weekend. For example, the second I walked into the door of my parents’ house, my mother hugged me and said, “Heather, your hair smells.”

  I had just been driving for nearly six hours straight and that was definitely not what I wanted or needed to hear.

  Besides, I had showered just before I left. Between you and me, the smell never entirely comes out from my hair. I looked online for solutions and had tried vinegar, tomato juice, Coca Cola, and even baking soda, but nothing quite gets out the formaldehyde. I barely even notice it anymore. And that worries me more than anything.

  After we got off the subject of my hair, my mother gave me the third degree about my wonderful new boyfriend. Abe and I had toyed with the idea of him coming to my house for the holidays, or vice versa, but we decided our parents would have a fit. But as my mother grilled me, I desperately wished Abe were standing by my side. If only to look imposing.

  I left early on Sunday, and it wasn’t a moment too soon. Abe promised he’d be home in time for us to get dinner that night, and I was holding him to that promise. I needed a long, relaxing night with my boyfriend to recover from three days with my parents.

  When I get back to the dorms, I barely take a second to throw my bags in the room and glance at my reflection in the hall mirror. I’m wearing a tight tank top and a pair of skinny blue jeans, which seems good enough. I suspect Abe would be okay with it if I showed up wearing a potato sack.

  I kick off my boots and slide sandals over my bare feet and hurry upstairs to Abe’s apartment. Usually we meet at my apartment because his is truly disgusting. A few weeks ago, I walked into the living room and there was a dead roach lying right in the middle of the floor. I pointed it out, and to my surprise, Mason and Abe seemed to already know it was there.

  “It’s a warning to other roaches,” Mason explained. “So they know what will happen to them if they come in here.”

  Abe just looked embarrassed and scooped up the roach with a paper towel.

  Anyway, roaches or not, I’m too excited to see Abe and I don’t want to wait around downstairs. I knock on the door and Mason answers.

  So here’s the weird part: Mason always seems really put together, but right now, he looks awful. His chestnut hair is sticking straight up and it looks like he hasn’t washed it in weeks. He’s wearing a Southside Med T-shirt that has a big brown stain on the front of it, and it smells worse than my hair. He’s got several days’ worth of stubble on his face, and those gorgeous hazel eyes are bloodshot.

  “Mason?” I say.

  I almost ask him if he’s drunk.

  Mason blinks at me a few times, like he’s trying to place me. I practically expect him to ask me my name. Then his eyes narrow.

  “What do you want?”

  “Uh…” I squeeze my fists together. “I just came to see Abe.”

  Mason frowns for a minute.

  “Oh.” His shoulders sag. “Right. Of course. He’s in the shower.”

  “He is?” I look at the bathroom door and see steam coming out from underneath.

  “Yeah,” Mason says. And then he adds, sounding very much like his usual self, “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some company.”

  He smiles at me then, and before I can question his appearance any further, he slips out the door to the apartment.

  Actually, Mason had an intriguing idea. How hot would it be if I get into the shower with Abe? Of course, it would be a bit of a surprise, but what guy wouldn’t get turned on by something like that? And it will certainly propel our relationship to the next level.

  I’m going to do it!

  I go down the hall, gently opening the door to the bathroom, and silently slip into the room. Once inside, I blink several times as my vision quickly clouds with steam. I look at the mirrors, which are completely fogged over so that I can’t make out my own reflection. I hear Abe’s voice from behind the white shower curtain, softly humming a tune. It sounds like Journey.

  I pull my shirt over my head and wiggle out of my jeans, accompanied by my panties. I then unhook my bra. Finally I’m totally naked in the middle of the bathroom, the steam curling my hair, becoming very aroused by the idea that Abe is naked too, just beyond the shower curtains.

  I tip-toe towards the shower curtain and rap my fist against the curtain, as if knocking.

  “Hello, Abe,” I say in my most seductive voice, feeling only slightly silly. “Got room for one more?”

  Almost instantly, I see Abe’s shocked round face peeking out from behind the curtain. Instead of looking pleased to see me, he looks horrified.

  “What are you doing here?” he nearly screams.

  I try to smile, ignoring my heart pounding in my chest. “I just came to—”

  “Get out of here!”

  “But Abe, I thought…”

  “Get out!” He really is scre
aming this time. I can see the veins standing out in his neck and his right eye is twitching slightly. “Now!”

  I nearly slip on a puddle of water as I fumble to put my clothes back on. I’m so freaking embarrassed. As I pull my tank top over my head, I notice that the pattern of water droplets sounds different. The downpour of water is steady now—Abe isn’t moving in the shower. He’s just standing still, waiting for me to leave.

  What the hell is going on?

  I’m tempted to storm out of the room and go home, but curiosity and confusion keep me there. I sit on his ratty futon couch, avoiding a rather large new coffee stain, and wait for Abe to finish his shower. I will never forget the tone of Abe’s voice. I’ve never ever heard him sound that way. He was furious, but also something else, something even more perplexing:

  Abe sounded terrified.

  Eventually, the flow of water stops and Abe emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed in blue jeans and a baggy green T-shirt. His usually pale face is very red and not just from the steam of the shower. He can barely make eye contact with me when he sits down next to me on the futon.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “You startled me.”

  “I just…” I shake my head. “I thought it was time for us to, you know, take the next step. You want to, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, of course,” Abe says, providing me with the correct, normal answer. But there’s a tightness in his voice that leads me to believe that he doesn’t want to at all.

  What are you hiding from me, Abe Kaufman?

  “Maybe we’re going too fast though…” I suggest.

  Except we’ve been together for well over a month, and done hardly anything besides kiss with our clothes on. If we moved any slower, we’d be going backwards.

  “Maybe…”

  “We don’t have to have sex or anything,” I say. “We could just… lie together naked.”

  Abe just stares at me.

  I flash back to the scene in the bathroom a few minutes ago. My memory is permanently imprinted with the horror on Abe’s face when he saw me standing naked in the middle of his bathroom. I remember all the cookies and snacks I’ve eaten while studying and suddenly it makes total sense. My clothes have been hiding the extra weight I’ve gained, and Abe was probably disappointed when that camouflage was gone.

  “Do I… do I turn you off?” I ask, bracing myself for the answer.

  Abe blinks at me, shocked. “No, of course not!” he answers earnestly. “My God, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life. How could you even think that?”

  I have to hand it to him, he sounds like he means it.

  “But then why…” I furrow my brow, trying desperately to make sense of what happened in the bathroom. Why did Abe freak out like that? Unless… “Are you afraid of me seeing you naked?”

  Abe lowers his eyes. “No…”

  But I can tell from his face that I hit the nail on the head. I feel relieved.

  “Oh, come on,” I say, nudging his arm gently. “I know you’re not a model or anything, but I like your body. Really.”

  Abe doesn’t say anything.

  I slide my hand up his T-shirt, “Come on, let me see…”

  I feel his upper body stiffen as I run my hand over his bare chest, which is covered in a healthy layer of the hair, which I imagine is probably red. I feel his left nipple, then his right… no extra ones, as far as I can tell. He’s got a gut, but there’s nothing too shocking about that. His skin is smooth—no weird scars or anything. He tolerates my exploration until my hand moves to his back, when he grabs my forearm and forcibly pushes my arm away.

  “Not right now,” he says.

  I frown. “What’s going on, Abe?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then strip,” I command him. “Right now.”

  “You’re not serious…”

  “I am totally serious.”

  It seems that our whole relationship hinges on his answer to this question. My eyes meet his and I know what his answer is going to be before the words leave his mouth.

  “No,” he says.

  “Whatever it is,” I plead, “I don’t care. I swear I don’t care. Is it… a tail?”

  I imagine a tiny little nub of a tail hanging off Abe’s backside. I could probably deal with that. Maybe.

  “No, it’s not a tail,” he mumbles. “Heather…”

  “Is it…?” I try to brainstorm the most horrible thing he could be hiding under his blue jeans and T-shirt. My mind draws a blank.

  Abe looks away from me. “I… I’m sorry.”

  I feel a mixture of anger and hurt that the man I was in love with won’t let my see him naked. But mostly, I just feel confused. This definitely wasn’t something Sleeping Beauty ever had to deal with.

  Chapter 16

  I hardly see Abe for the next few days. It’s almost like he’s avoiding me.

  I’m too agitated to study. How can I? Every time I try to concentrate on anatomy, I start imagining what Abe could possibly be hiding from me. A tattoo with another girl’s name on it? No, that doesn’t seem like something Abe would do.

  A horrible, hideous scar? No, most guys think scars are manly.

  I drive over to the school, hoping maybe putting some distance between me and Abe will help. My mind keeps racing and my stomach feels sick all the time. I wish I could imagine that Abe is hiding something unimportant from me, but my gut tells me that’s not the case.

  I’ve got to talk to someone about this. But Abe is my best friend. Still, there’s one other person who comes to mind.

  Dr. Patrice Winters’s office is directly above the anatomy labs. It’s a long shot that she’ll be around—I fully expect to have to make an appointment—but I figure it can’t hurt to drop by. Patrice is a therapist so anything I tell her will be confidential, and that’s exactly what I’m looking for right now.

  I’m surprised to see the door to her office is ajar. I walk over tentatively, but stop when I hear a familiar voice from inside. I recognize it instantly as Dr. Conlon.

  “Thank you so much, Patrice,” he’s saying. “You’re the best. Really.”

  “Anything for you, Matt,” she replies.

  I freeze. I may just be a med student, but I’m also a girl and I recognize flirtation. I didn’t hear it in Dr. Conlon’s voice, but Patrice’s words are just dripping with it. Is there something going on between the two of them? No, if there were, they’d surely close the door.

  Before I can contemplate further, the door is yanked open in front of me and I nearly fall into the office. Dr. Conlon’s blue eyes widen when he sees me. “Heather?”

  I straighten up, trying to smile. Patrice looks decidedly annoyed, but her face changes when she hears Dr. Conlon say my name. Her features soften and she holds out her hand to me.

  “Heather McKinley,” she says. “Please come in.”

  It’s like she’s been waiting for me. Creepy.

  Dr. Conlon limps off and closes the door behind him. Patrice gestures at the sofa in front of her desk, which is light blue, and I sink into it so deeply that I’m worried I might not be able to get up. Patrice has mood lighting going on in here, although part of me wonders if that was for Dr. Conlon’s benefit.

  “So, Heather,” Patrice says, sliding a pair of half-moon glasses up her narrow nose. “What brings you to see me?”

  “It’s…” I want to tell her everything, but I can’t. This woman makes me uncomfortable. “It’s silly.”

  “Nothing is silly, Heather,” she assures me.

  I squeeze my fists together. Okay, I need to just say it. If I don’t talk to somebody about this, I’m going to burst. Even if that somebody Patrice.

  “It’s about my boyfriend,” I say. “He’s a student here. Abe Kaufman.”

  Patrice nods.

  “He’s acting really weird,” I continue. “I mean, really weird.”

  Patrice nods again.

  “Not like he’s going to kill himself or anything,�
�� I add quickly. “But… I mean, he’s my boyfriend, and I caught him in the shower and he totally flipped out. Like there was something he didn’t want me to see.”

  Patrice nods yet again. I wish she’d say something. I’m beginning to regret having come to her. This lady is the opposite of what I’d call “understanding.” But I’m already telling her, so I may as well go through with it. And anyway, there’s nothing to tell. Not yet.

  “What could he be hiding?” I say. “Anything about his body that’s not perfect, I’d be okay with it.”

  “Would you?”

  Now it’s my turn to nod. Vigorously.

  “Yes. Definitely. I mean, it’s Abe. I love him.”

  I haven’t said those words to his face yet but I’ve been feeling it more and more. I love this guy. I really do. And it kills me that he’s doing this.

  “Maybe you think you’d be okay with it,” Patrice suggests. “But you really wouldn’t.”

  “I would,” I insist.

  “You know, Heather,” Patrice says. “There are a lot of boys in your class. If Abe is really hiding things from you, maybe you’d be better off with someone else.”

  “What?” I stare at her. “That’s not… I mean, I wouldn’t…”

  Why is Patrice telling me that? Isn’t she supposed to be helping me work out my relationship problems, not try to find someone else?

  And then something horrible occurs to me. This isn’t a coincidence. Patrice knew my name right away, almost like she knew I was going to show up here…

  “You talked to Abe, didn’t you?” I accuse her.

  Patrice’s face pales under her make-up. “I can’t divulge that.”

  I shake my head. “You know. You know what he’s hiding from me.”

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” she insists, but my answer is right there on her face. She’s a horrible liar. You’d think a shrink would have a better poker face.

  So Patrice knows Abe’s secret. And what’s more, she knows and her advice is that I ought to move on. I need to get as far away as I can from Abe Kaufman.