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That was his last test. This one. Right in front of him. And it was supposed to mean something. He would hate to admit that it did. All the hours at the University’s hospital, all the hours studying, the late nights and the too early mornings. The times he knew he shouldn’t be driving his car in nothing but two cans of energetic drinks and a bagel. The calls to his mother, the calls from his father. The family certainly knew a lot about the halls of Stanford. And still. This last test. Right in front of him. It meant nothing at all.
It didn’t mean he was free to do whatever he wanted to do. It didn’t mean he could leave med school behind. It didn’t mean he could pack and move to the other side of the world. It only meant that maybe, just maybe, this time... His parents would be happy with one decision he had taken on his own. For once. And at this point, Iago just felt like he couldn’t care less.
He had had another late night. Someone had been throwing a party somewhere. He couldn’t remember. All he knew is that he was too sleepy and the test meant nothing. Adding two plus two, Iago laid down on top of the sheet of paper and fell asleep.
With no idea of how long had passed, Iago was awaken by a soft hand on his back, making him jump. “Shit... What time is it?”
“Well, Mr. Cohen-Chang. The test is over...” The professor said, eyes on him and not really on the blank piece of paper under his arms. The professor knew, there was no reason for her to mention, and Iago did too. He hadn’t done it. The time was over. And he would fail. “Was it on purpose?”
At the question, Iago just stared at the desk. Was it? Maybe. Was he feeling bad now? Extremely. Was it a good choice? Not really. Was he going to ask for a second chance? Never.
“I had a late night,” he said, an excuse that rarely worked in this class, but he was already a mess. A little lie wouldn’t hurt nobody.
“You know, Mr. Cohen-Chang...” the professor started, leaning back against the desk beside Iago. “I’ve known you since you joined the University. Years ago. Always top grades. Every single professor impressed with your performance... And at the same time, I have the feeling you do not want to be here at all. Some of your classmates love med school, you seem to tolerate it.”
Not expecting the professor’s words, Iago laughed softly, shaking his head. He looked up, smirk on his lips. “I do. Tolerate it. I chose to be here, but not really... I haven’t actually chosen to go anywhere in my life,” the sudden need to open up to the semi-stranger would be blamed on the lack of sleep later. “And I’ll probably just keep on living here and working here. The San Francisco Hospital has a spot for Anesthesiology. Perfect.”
“What about finishing school?”
“What about what now? Is that what they’re calling residency now?”
The professor rolled her eyes, giving him a fond smile. “Finishing school, Iago. Go find out more about your mark. Explore it. Get to know people. Find yourself someone. Maybe then choose where you want to go.” The use of his name had him looking up at the professor again. Right. His mark. This stupid thing he has had to deal with for a few years now. Having to give respect to people he doesn’t even know, having to be nice to people he doesn’t even like. Yes Sir this, Yes Miss that. Sometimes, he would rather choke. And he thought he would. “There’s a lot to it, you know. I met my husband while I was at a finishing school. He was a little too much like yourself.”
“Incredibly awesome?”
“Had lost a bit of faith in the system.”
“Ah... Well. And did you have fun while you were there?”
“It’s a school. But yes, I did. And I learned so much about myself. My partner. And our relationship as a whole. ... We went to Devereux. In Florida. You should give it a look,” she gave him a wink and Iago couldn’t keep looking. He made a face, looking away and then down to his test. “Forty minutes, Mr. Cohen-Chang. I expect your test done and on my table in forty minutes.”
Iago blinked once, twice, looked up and nodded again. “Of course, professor. Thank you,” but she was already walking towards her desk. He got to work, answering the questions and writing out his essay. Forty minutes would be enough, he was sure. So was the professor.
When he was done, a few minutes left still, Iago thanked her one more time and finally turned his cell phone on again. There were a few texts from a few people he knew, his friends, his sisters. He ignored all of those, opening Google and typing. ‘Devereux Academy, Florida’. That was a choice he could make for himself for once.
Dr. Iago Cohen-Chang, 34, Anesthesiologist at San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center. Happily taken. Oz Puckerman’s claimed submissive. Cat owner. Book lover. Cooks for fun. Might keep his hair longish to seem cool, but don’t tell him I let you in this tiny little secret.
