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"I don't know," I say. "You never got there."
"But if I had?" he asks.
It's easier to speculate on his hypothetical past. I know it didn't happen. I know he's a successful attorney. There's no risk of my vision coming true. "If you passed the bar, you couldpractice another way. But what if you never passed the bar? Do you walk around with a useless degree?"
"You can work in a limited capacity," he says.
"But you passed the first time," I say.
He nodsI did.
"So you don't really know about failure." I find a little strength. I sit up a little straighter. This game of hypothetical is different for us. It's fair to point that out. And he's a lawyer. So, he cares about fairness.
"And when have you ever failed at anything, Daph?"
Right. That's a fair counter-point. But still. "What if I'm saving all of it for this?"
"Tell me," he says. "Tell me what if."
My stomach drops. My chest tightens. I let myself feel the worry. I let the emotion pass through my body. Then I take a deep breath, and I switch to thinking. "My mom will be disappointed. And I'll have spent all that time in medical school. Maybe for nothing."
"So, maybe not for nothing," he says.
"I did learn a lot. And I could put that to use in another way," I say. "I could pursue sex research another way. As a therapist. Or a writer. Not that I can write. But there are other ways to focus on what I want to do."
"Which is?" he asks.
"Research human sexuality," I say.
"Why do you want to do that?" he asks.
I stare at him with wide eyes. "I don't understand the question."
He stares back with affection in his dark eyes and lets out a deep, low chuckle. One that meansI love this about you."What about it appeals to you?"
"Everything."
He holds my stare, and motionsgo on.
Right. I need to expand beyond everything. I need to focus on this and not on the love in his eyes.
School.
Not anything else.
Where do I start? "It's interesting. I guess that's vague, but it's the truth. I'm always engaged by research. By the questions I can ask and answer. There's always more knowledge to uncover, but we don't find it, because people don't talk about sex. I like being the person who looks at this taboo thing. Having the strength and curiosity to do it."
His eyes stay fixed on mine. They stay open and curious. "So it's all self-interest."
"Mostly, if I'm being honest."
He curls his hand around my neck. "What else?"
"I want to help people have more fulfilling sex lives. Because everything I hear from friends, and read on the Internet, it's not good. All these men who were trained by porn, who except women to act like over-the-top vixens and enjoy jackrabbiting. Who think women don't need lube or foreplay or clitoral stimulation. Movies and TV don't help either. Or friends and family. When's the last time a friend of yours said something smart about sex?"
"I don't talk to my friends about sex," he says.
"Really? You don't walk around talking about how much you want to fuck a celebrity?"
