Cedrick Mendoza-Tolentino
Mikhail
Betsy loved the way Mikhail's lips felts against hers. The only other men, boys really, she had kissed were too forceful, too eager to get to first base. Mikhail never forced her to do anything, never tried to force his tongue down her throat the way a more inexperienced man would have. Some people would have complained about how cold and stiff his lips were or how he always smelled like paraformaldehyde.
“Betsy, what are you doing here so late?”
“Oh, nothing.” Betsy threw the plastic sheet back over Mikhail's body.
“I can't believe you're still here. The anatomy midterm isn't for another three weeks. Don't tell me you've already started studying.”
Betsy wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I just wanted to get an early start. Dr. Stevenson said the midterm might be cumulative and I don't remember anything in the digestive tract.”
“Please. We all know you got the highest grade in anatomy last semester. You spend more time here than anyone else in the school. You spend more time here than in our apartment.”
Betsy shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know. I guess I'm just really interested in this stuff.”
“Well, that's why you want to be a doctor.” Amanda took a black hairband out of her purse and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Well, that Atul Gawunde reading is finishing up soon and I told Alexis and Mark I'd meet them at the Heights for drinks. You want to join us?”
“It's OK. I'm kind of tired. I think I'll just finish up here and then head home.”
“You sure? Nicholas is going to be there. You know he's had a crush on you for ages, right?”
Betsy looked down at Mikhail. “I really want to finish this stuff up.”
“OK. Well, don't wait up for me. I might stay over at Mark's tonight.”
Betsy exhaled as she watched her roommate leave. There had been a number of close calls, but most people assumed she simply really liked anatomy. She pulled the plastic sheet back and looked down at Mikhail, the cadaver she had been assigned at the start of the semester. She ran the back of her hand along his cheek, glad that she was not at one of the medical schools that had such few resources that they had to assign multiple people to a cadaver. Betsy was glad Mikhail was hers and hers alone.
Ever since her first boyfriend James had almost raped her their junior year of high school, Betsy had a terrible streak with boys. For whatever reason, she attracted guys who thought that it was only a matter of time before “no” became a “yes.” After her last boyfriend slapped her and called her a tease, she had given up on finding the right guy. That is until she found Mikhail.
One of the socks that covered his hands fell gently to the ground. Betsy picked up the blue and red argyle sock and gently placed it back over Mikhail's right hand. Each person had been given a pair of white socks to place over their cadaver's hands, but Betsy thought Mikhail deserved something better. She went out and bought some fashionable socks, one that she thought Mikhail would have worn if he were alive. Most people thought it was cute, but others laughed and snickered when her back was turned.
The socks were used because the hands were one of the last things dissected and needed to be protected. The nerves were some of the smallest and most delicate, which meant they were better saved for later when first-year medical students were more skilled with a scalpel and forceps.
She knew that her infatuation was weird, but she didn't care. She always spent most of her time alone and this way she felt she was almost being more social than normal. There were only 6 more weeks left in the semester, so all of this would be coming to an end, but in many ways, Betsy thought of this as the longest, healthiest relationship she had ever been in. Thanks to Mikhail and his body, she had gotten an A in the class.
Betsy kissed Mikhail's cheek, closing her eyes and taking the time to enjoy the feel of her lips against his cold skin. Unlike her classmates, she enjoyed the smell of the anatomy lab, and did not mind the way her clothing and hair smelled for hours after class. In many ways, Betsy thought she was more prepared than her classmates for having a strong smell follow her around. She had been a swimmer in high school and college, so the smell of chlorine, not as strong as paraformaldehyde, had permeated from her hair and skin wherever she went.
“Hey, what are you doing?
Betsy's head flew up. “Oh, you scared me Arthur.”
“Were you smelling your cadaver?”
“No.” Betsy's stomach dropped.
Arthur, one of the teaching assistants, walked over and sat down on one of the metal stools. “Didn't want to go to the Gawunde talk?”
Betsy shook her head. Both her hands were clenched into fists under the table. “You neither?”
“No. I don't like his writing. I wanted the night to catch up on some reading.”
“Yeah, I wanted to review before we moved on.” Betsy picked up a pair of rat-toothed forceps and picked at some loose tissue around Mikhail's exposed heart.
Arthur picked up a probe from Betsy's tray and pressed Mikhail's heart gently. “This guy was either an immense athlete or suffered from extensive hypertension. Look at the size of his heart muscle.”
“I think he must have been an athlete.” Betsy gestured to Mikhail's legs. A large flap of skin hung loosely near his calf. “His leg muscles are huge.”
“Yeah, he looks well built. I wonder how he ended up here.”
Betsy picked at a small deposit of fat above Mikhail's heart. “I have no idea.”
Arthur put the probe down. “Well, tomorrow is going to be an exciting day. You guys are going to start dissecting the face.”
Betsy mistakenly dropped the forceps and looked down at her feet. “Really? I thought we were going to spend more time on the lower extremities.”
Arthur shook his head. “No. Dr. Stevenson says you've fallen behind some of the other sections and it's time to catch up. Don't worry, if you feel like we're going to fast there will be review sessions at the end of the semester.
“That's great.” Betsy tried to muster as much enthusiasm as she could. She thought she had more time before having to dissect Mikhail's face. Much more time.
“Well, a lot of students find that dissecting the face is the toughest. I think when you dissect the rest of the body, none of it seems real. But when you cut into the face, that's when you start to realize this guy once had a soul.”
“I guess.” Betsy blinked quickly to hold back some tears. “I never thought about it like that.”
Arthur stood up and smiled. “Don't worry. Some day you'll be operating on real people. That'll be much better. Anyways, I'm going to head back to the library to finish some reading. But if you get the chance, read the chapter about the optic nerve. If you work really quickly, you might get to that tomorrow.” Arthur waved and walked out of the lab.
Betsy felt a tear run down her cheek. She ran her hand along Mikhail's face, sad that it would be the last time she got to see it in its natural state. She had an intense urge to take the scalpel and cut off his lips. Maybe she could store them somewhere. She thought about how easy it would be to simply take a saw and cut of Mikhail's head, maybe hide it in her room somewhere. But she knew it wouldn't be the same.
Betsy pushed Mikhail to one side of the metal table and sat down beside him. She knew that if anyone came by and saw what she was doing, she would never hear the end of it. She thought she may even have to go to psych services or talk to the dean. But she didn't care. It was the last night she would get to see and feel Mikhail's face. Betsy swung her legs up onto the table. She adjusted the plastic sheet so that everything but his face was covered and pressed her body next to his. She kissed his cheek and laid her head against his, knowing she would never be able to do this again.
“I'll miss you,” Betsy said, letting the smell of paraformaldehyde fill her lungs. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
©2008 by Cedrick Mendoza-Tolentino
