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  It was only once the hostess sat us down and took our drink orders that I had a real chance to take in Emily’s appearance. Up until then I was concentrating hard on making things interesting during her “tour”. What I saw now was a very earnest pleasant-looking girl in her mid-twenties with brown hair and brown eyes who smiled easily and chatted amiably in a way that was not nearly as shy as Tyler had led me to believe. After we ordered our meals, she told me she had been teaching middle school science for the past 3 years and liked it very much despite the challenges of the developmental stage of the students she was working with.

  “Middle school science?” I said with mock incredulity, “Don’t they give you combat pay or something for that?”

  She tried to give me a reproving glare but it quickly dissolved into a smile which told me she had heard my lame joke about a thousand times before.

  “Middle schoolers are much more sophisticated beings than we give them credit for. Contrary to popular belief they are not completely ruled by emerging hormones and the pursuit of social interests.”

  I wasn’t sure that was the way I remembered it, so I asked her a more concrete question.

  “So inquiring minds want to know: Just how teachable are they?”

  Without hesitation, she replied, “In my class they learn exceptionally fast.”

  Remembering the semi-contained anarchy that was my middle school, I was really interested to know what pharmaceutical was being used to bring about this outcome.

  “So are you going to divulge the formula for your success or is it patented?”

  “It’s not a secret formula. I believe my students achieve their goals for one primary reason: I presume they will succeed.”

  “And that’s all there is to it.” I said with now with something dangerously close to sarcasm.

  “Almost,” she assured me, “but there is a great deal of preparation and work underlying the simple principle. Here’s how it works. Let’s say I’m teaching IPS—Introduction to Physical Sciences—to a class of eighth-graders. I know what they’re supposed to learn—that’s called the curriculum. What I need to find out is what they know before we start. So I spend a week or two assessing their knowledge of what they’ve learned before they got to my class. I don’t give quizzes or formal readings or anything like that. Instead, I choose situations that are relevant to fourteen year olds to illustrate physical science questions and use the student’s approach to the problem to informally assess their strengths and weaknesses. With luck, it seems to the students like we’re just talking about life. In reality, I am carefully analyzing what they seem to be ready for. Then, I tailor my initial lesson plans so they will succeed on whatever level they can. They quickly gain confidence because they become accustomed to doing well. Then I can ratchet up the degree of difficulty and they don’t even notice because they believe they’re going to accomplish whatever I put in front of them.”

  I gave a low whistle. I was so impressed that I had to ask her, “How did you put all this together so early in your career? Did someone teach you to think this way?”

  She shrugged. “Not formally. At least, it wasn’t something I learned in college. But it was something that I observed from elementary school onward when I had really good teachers. One thing they all seemed to have in common was that they believed in us as students.”

  That sounded like a good credo for a teacher at any level of education.

  After dinner, we walked the short distance back to her hotel and through the lobby to the elevators.

  “It’s very nice of you to take me around like this,” she continued, “I hope my cousin didn’t badger you too much to take me on as a tourist.”

  “He assured me that you don’t decorate you apartment with old pizza boxes and NASCAR posters.”

  Unexpectedly, she giggled at that. “He really is a slob, isn’t he? I’m kind of the opposite, actually. Maybe that’s what people expect from teachers—neatness and organization.”

  I almost surprised myself with the forwardness of my next question, “What should I expect from you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll surprise you. Would you like to find out?”

  “I think I would. Is there a chance you might need further tour-guide services?”

  She then gave me my first surprise—an impetuous and very enthusiastic kiss.

  “Does that come under the category of neatness or organization?” I asked, taken aback more than a little.

  “It comes under the category of ‘expect the unexpected’. The convention ends after the morning sessions tomorrow. Is there anything left to see in Baltimore before I go home?”

  “Baltimore is a great town and there is always more to see,” I assured her.

  “If you pick me up at noon, you may find out more of what to expect from me,” she said coyly and strode into the elevator.

  Chapter 49

  On the drive home, I found myself in a bit of a quandary. I had just pole vaulted my tour guide gig over the line into a date. Across the North Atlantic, I still had a girlfriend. Or did I? What would I tell Emily? What would I tell Jillian? Given that Jillian had given me a sort of “unconditional release”, was I even obligated to tell her? I was tempted to call Emily and give her an excuse for not being able to see her. But I wanted to see her. There was one thing of which I was completely convinced. Tyler was to blame for all of this.

  I video chatted with Jillian that night. She seemed very happy. In fact, the more we talked, the more I was convinced she didn’t miss me at all. She talked about music and museums and Viennese restaurants and people that I would never meet. She broke off our conversation to go to a rehearsal. We didn’t talk about us at all. I went to bed that night feeling a little less guilty about my plans with Emily for the next day.

  Sunday morning dawned cold and bright. I went for a run, showered, shaved and dressed like I cared what I looked like. I drove down toward the Inner Harbor after reading some articles about ER diagnosis and treatment. Emily was waiting in front of her hotel—her cheeks a rosy pink from the chilly wind.

  “This tour guide service is very convenient,” she pointed out, “if the doctor thing doesn’t work out, you could always make this a career.”

  I gave her an ironic thank you as we drove towards our destination. I decided to take her for a nice brunch and spill once and for all on the subject of my current status. I would take my medicine now and see what happened.

  So, after some small talk, croissants, fruit, omelets, Belgian waffles and coffee, I decided to get right to the point.

  “Emily, I have something I need to tell you.”

  “You mean, you’re not really an AAA approved tour guide?” she tried to joke but was looking worried.

  “It’s a little more serious than that.” And I gave her a diplomatically worded summary of my status. I had just been in a brief but pretty intense relationship. My girlfriend had given me my freedom but we hadn’t officially broken up. She would be away until next January. We were starting to grow apart—which was true—but I couldn’t say that I didn’t still have some pretty strong feelings for her. In short, I wasn’t really free but I wasn’t really in a functioning relationship either.

  “So It’s a confusing situation and I wanted to come clean before anything else ‘unexpected’ happened,” I said, fidgeting in my seat at this point.

  Here it comes, I thought. The brave expressionless face. The folding and refolding of the napkin. The suggestion for a rapid return to the hotel. The end of what might have been. Why did things have to be so complicated?

  “Carlos,” she finally said, “You’re not engaged. Your girlfriend is away and told you she doesn’t expect you to wait for her.” She took a sip of her coffee and paused as she let a little smile spread slowly across her sweet and forgiving face. “Besides, there is no way I am going to find a decent tour guide on a Sunday on short notice. The way I see it, why don’t we just spend the day together and see what happens?”

/>   “Emily, you are ‘unexpected’ in a whole lot of ways.” I said as I realized I was breathing again.

  We set off from the restaurant and stopped off here and there in little spots across Baltimore until it was time for her to leave for home. We spent much of the time sitting in the car as the sun warmed us. We looked out over the water and talked for hours. It turned out that her town and school were in a county in northern Maryland so she was not all that far from Baltimore.

  “Emily,” I said as I dropped her off at her car, “this is all in your hands now. I have had a great time. You are so much fun to be with. I’d love to get to know you better. But I’ll understand if you decide that I have too much baggage to invest in right now.”

  She gave me a hug and appeared to consider that for a moment. “Carlos, there are a lot of things in this region that I have never seen and you seem fairly knowledgeable. I would be pretty silly to give up such a competent and accessible tour guide over a little baggage, don’t you think?”

  I was beginning to feel warm all over.

  She continued with light in her eyes, “Would you be available to show me a little bit of Washington DC next weekend?”

  “Vega Tours is at your service,” I replied quickly with a bow.

  Chapter 50

  The winter proceeded with my rapidly accelerating education in emergency medicine and my more gradually but happily developing relationship with Emily. She wasn’t the kind of girl that you fell in love with at first sight. Rather the more I was around her, the more I wanted to be around her. She also quietly intimated that as a science teacher, she could get a job just about anywhere. Anywhere. Like if she needed to leave to go somewhere else to be with someone she was serious about, it wouldn’t be a big deal for her…That was the thing about Emily, she made everything about our relationship so simple. I felt like I could announce suddenly that I wanted to do experimental oncology on Mars and she would say, “Mars! That sounds great. When do we leave?” Given that our relationship was progressing, it wasn’t long before I got a phone call from Tyler.

  “I can’t believe you’re hitting on my cousin!”

  “Relax, Tyler. We’re getting to know each other slowly. Besides this was your idea, if you’ll recall.”

  “Well, you’ve got a point there. At least Emily says you’ve been a gentleman.”

  “We tour guides have a strict code of ethics,” I said with as much gravity as I could muster.

  “Just make sure her tour has a happy ending.” He continued, “Speaking of happy endings, are you ready to meet up with Gomey, Courtney and me for the Match results?”

  The results Tyler was referring to were for the National Residency Matching Program. They can be released depending upon the preferences of the individual medical school. So in March, Midcentral University School of Medicine chose to bring our senior class back to the same auditorium where we had been welcomed as first-year students. I guess it was a kind of closure. The names of the students would be read in alphabetical order and each student would be given an envelope with the location and type of training program that had accepted him/her. The result itself would not be announced but most students would make clear what had happened with a shout or wail as the case might be.

  Courtney, Tyler, Gomey and I decided to change our usual routine. The night before Match results were to be announced, instead of our usual poker game, we opted for dinner out. As I changed into something presentable, I booted up my laptop to check my email—and immediately spotted a message from Jillian. I debated whether to read it right away or save it for later, but curiosity got the better of me. I took a deep breath and clicked on the link to the message.

  Carlos,

  I’m pretty sure that tomorrow is when you find out where you’ll be going for specialty training after med school. I really wish I could be there to hear the news with you. It didn’t hit me until just now that I don’t even know which specialty you requested…Well, whatever you wanted, I hope with all my heart that you get it.

  I can’t believe that we’ve already been apart for two months. It seems like two years. Here in Vienna, I am learning so much and meeting so many people and experiencing so many new things. Yet there are times when I am still very lonely. So often I have considered just forgetting the whole thing and coming home just so I could see you.

  But I can’t do that. You know that, don’t you? I just can’t be one of those women who abandons all of her dreams for love—no matter how strong that love is. If I am going to be a whole person in a relationship someday I can’t be wondering in the back of my mind about what I might have done. I have to know that I pursued my dream to the fullest, just as you are doing. I hope you understand…

  By now, you may already be seeing someone else. Or maybe you aren’t. I’m not sure which would hurt more. Knowing that you were unhappy and alone, or knowing that you were happy with someone else…In any event, I don’t want to know.

  Anyway, I didn’t write to be a downer or depress you. I wrote to wish you good luck and to tell you that no matter what happens, I will always love you and wish you all that your heart desires…whether you wind up with me or someone else.

  All my love,

  Jillian

  I pondered Jillian’s note as I walked from my apartment to the restaurant. It was impossible not to compare my relationships with the two women in my life. My feelings for Jillian were overwhelming and intense but circumstances seemed to have conspired so much to keep us apart. My affection for Emily was more of a gently building wave and at the same time everything in our lives was making it so easy to become increasingly involved with her. I could work for the next ten months to hold things together with Jillian long-distance and then find that things weren’t the same between us when she returned. Meanwhile, there was Emily—close and warm and so eager to make me happy.

  Inside the restaurant, my chums had already arrived. A frosty pitcher of beer sat on the table in the darkened room amid the noise and laughter of a crowd that was all too ready to blow off steam.

  Tyler spoke first, “Hey Vega, nice of you to make an appearance. Still working on seducing my cousin?”

  I glared at him and then smiled and shook my head. Tyler was intellectually brilliant, but emotionally he was just slightly more evolved than a Neanderthal. “Tyler, you are incorrigible. Emily and I are in a relationship.”

  Tyler drew me in close and whispered in my ear, “Relationship, huh? Does that mean you haven’t…”

  Courtney, who had obviously overheard, decided to save me by interrupting, “Tyler, chill, will you? If you’re so interested in people’s love lives, would you like to hear about mine?”

  The darkened room was suddenly transformed as Gomey, Tyler and I turned to Courtney with bright and inquisitive smiles.

  “Who is the lucky guy?” Gomey inquired.

  Courtney passed her smart phone around with the requisite show and tell photos. “His name is Sean Maloney. I met him at Stanford doing my Orthopaedics sub-internship. Unfortunately for him, he blew out his right knee anterior cruciate ligament tackling an opposing player as a fifth year senior on the football team. Fortunately for me, I was assigned to his case on sports medicine as he was being rehabbed after the ACL repair. His football career may be over, but he already graduated summa cum laude from Stanford and is getting credits toward his MBA. He has a job lined up with a major financial firm. He is also hot beyond belief and is about the sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet.”

  I looked up from his picture, “Courtney, he must be 6 feet 10 inches 280 pounds. His hands look like they could palm a sofa. Be careful or he might injure you just by accident!”

  Courtney leaned over and whispered in my ear with a gleam in her eye, “Carlos, if I weren’t such a demure lady I would tell you it isn’t his hands that could injure a girl.”

  “COURTNEY!”

  “I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin,” she laughed and blushed a little.

  Then she went o
n in a more serious tone, “You know, I don’t think I would be with Sean today if it wasn’t for you”.

  I was completely confused by that. “What are you talking about?”

  “Remember the night at my place after the poker game?”

  It took me a moment before the light bulb went on. “Courtney, surely I am not the first guy to tell you how beautiful you are.”

  She brushed a tear from the corner of one eye. “Well, maybe not. But that was the first time I started to believe it could be true.”

  “Courtney, I am unbelievably happy for you.”

  “So am I,” Tyler appeared from over my shoulder conspiratorially, “why are we whispering?”

  Gomey raised his glass and the rest of us did the same, “To love. It may cost elephants, land rovers or tears. But once found, we are never the same afterwards.”

  “Hear, hear,” came the reply and we drank deeply and laughed loudly.

  * * *

  The next morning came quickly and at the appointed time we began to gather at the auditorium. As we waited for the Dean and other bigwigs of the faculty to arrive, I reflected that I had always resented the alphabetical order thing for obvious reasons---my last name is Vega. So ever since pre-school I was used to having to wait until the very end of any given ceremony. However, when it came time for the envelopes to be distributed, the Dean of our medical school announced that there was a change in plans. We would be called up in reverse alphabetical order!

  So there I was with very little time to prepare. Zbiegniew, Arnold; Yeltzer, Denise; Yates, Brody; Vondelman, Rachel; Vega, Carlos;

  Holy crap, here we go.

  I walked to the front of the auditorium on the big day with my hands absolutely shaking. The Dean gave me my envelope and he flashed me a big smile. What did that mean? Was that a “too bad, nice try” consolation grin? Then I realized he probably didn’t know the results yet either. I returned to my seat to sit with Courtney, Tyler and Gomey. We had agreed to wait until everyone had an envelope and open them simultaneously. Tyler had brought a talisman—a box of tissues to ward off the evil spirits. The theory was that if one had tissues, there would be nothing to cry about.