Sitting in front of the computer, my mind races as I watch the exam load on the illuminated screen. Worry floods my brain and the stress begins to overpower my senses. Suddenly the lights are too bright, the room is too cold, and the girl sitting next to me is too damn loud. Am I as unprepared for this exam as I think I am? Why does she seem so at ease? Was there a study guide I forgot about, or a study session during office hours that I missed? Midterms, I have found, scare me more than anything else, especially when I am taking a class that is entirely out of my element. Honestly, I don't even know the official name of this course.
Other peers, whose poker faces I envy, fill the scattered empty seats. Knowing that I would be nervous for this exam, I made sure to get to class 20 minutes early so I could plop myself down in the back corner. I may not be able to mask how I feel, but I do know how to hide. My entire life has become a game of surviving by hiding in plain sight. Maybe today I will learn a new skill: surviving by "faking it until I make it."
I watch as the last few seats are taken. Three minutes until class is supposed to start. I look up at the clock, blaming it for playing god. The professor isn't here yet, maybe class will be canceled. Maybe 6:00 will roll around and I can just leave. Maybe, maybe, maybe... my leg bounces as I anxiously play perfect, ideal scenarios in my head. Currently, it's a reality where the professor is sick and decided to not show up, but he canceled the exam and gave everyone an A+. Smiling to myself at this wonderful fantasy I just created, I absentmindedly glance up at the clock at the front of the room. Suddenly, I am snapped out of my little world as I am locking eyes with my professor, Dr. Ward.
I have found older men attractive before, like in line at the grocery store with graying hair and wrinkles framing their eyes. They smile at me, and I smile back wondering if we are thinking the same thing. Does he want me? Does he want someone young enough to be his daughter? The thought always excites me, momentarily erases my insecurities that I hide underneath my coy, silent exchanges with handsome strangers. They always go home to their wives, probably forgetting about me the second the wheels of their cart touch the parking lot's asphalt. I, however, am always left wondering and dreaming.
Dr. Ward is similar to the men I have these insignificant encounters with. My eyes, still locked with his, decide to break away from the moment we are sharing. I take him in from the very back of the room, separated by eight rows of computers and unsuspecting peers. In a matter of seconds, I admire his salt-and-pepper hair and how it deepens his dark eyes. His shoulders are broad and his arms look strong, as do his hands. I blush as my eyes quickly make contact with his silver belt buckle, trying to inconspicuously see if there is a bulge that is being disguised by his black trousers. In a millisecond, my exploration of Dr. Ward ends when my daring eyes reach his polished dress shoes.
A rush of bravery and adrenaline pulses through me. I make the decision to look over him once more, this time starting from his feet and working my way back up. My stomach drops as we make eye contact
again
. This time I see a brief sparkle in his eyes telling me that I was not as secretive as I previously thought. This second moment that we are sharing has entirely taken me away from the issue at hand: the exam that I am minutes away from having to take. Snapping myself out of it, I look at the clock and then my computer screen, hoping to maybe play off everything that just occurred seconds before.
"Good evening! Today is your midterm, so if you have not already turned on the computer in front of you and logged in, I will give you another minute to do so. As you all know, you can only take this test once. When you are ready, you may begin. At the end of the exam you are free to go without checking in with me. Best of luck."
And with that, Dr. Ward sat himself at his desk, entirely out of my line of view. The rattling of bulky headphones fills the room momentarily. I do the same. Perfect. No distractions, just me and this dreadful exam. I begin to read through the questions, trying my best to answer them accurately. A few times I find myself with my eyes closed, attempting to manifest the answers out of nothingness. Of course my mind wanders back to Dr. Ward, who I can barely see between all the computers. What is he doing at his desk? Is he thinking about me? Does he know I am thinking about him? Stop it. Finish the exam.
Forty-five minutes have gone by and everyone is still testing, including me who is only on question 37 out of 100. This cannot get worse. What is this question even asking? Did we learn about this? Frustrated, I take a second to rest my chin in the palm of my hand. I stare at the screen, trying to find the answer somewhere. Maybe if I read between the lines...
The computer goes white, a blue pop up buffers on the screen before me. No, no, no! This can't be happening. Panicstricken, I look at the girl's screen to my left, then I lean forward to peek at the screens in the rows before me. All I see are exams, grayish screens with pixelated black writing. I look back at my screen, still white, still not loading. What am I supposed to do? Do I get up and ask for help? Do I raise my hand? Do I wait it out?
Do I leave?
An exam that has already cost me peace of mind has now ruined my entire life. My hands are slick and my heart is in my throat. I feel tears pricking behind my eyes. No, don't cry! Be brave. Will Dr. Ward even see my hand if I raise it? Why did I pick the seat furthest from his desk!
Slowly I remove my headphones, building up the courage to ask for help. I
have
to go up to his desk. Maybe he forgot about our private moment, unseen by those around us. I shake the memory away, knowing I can't possibly act like a normal person while thinking about him this way. I can do this. Standing up, I quietly meander behind all my peers, trying not to disturb them as I put on a brave face. I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back, remembering that a wise friend once told me that I need to make myself "big" to appear confident. I definitely felt big...like a big idiot. A few heads turn towards me as I walk up the aisle towards my unaware professor. He's focused, clearly in another world as he works away at his desk. I am about three steps away from him when Dr. Ward looks up at me.
I feel ridiculous for even thinking that anything happened between me and this man earlier because the way he is looking at me now almost hurts. As if he has never seen me before, as if I am an unwelcome stranger in his space, he looks right through me. My ego, although small, is crushed. I swallow hard and try to speak.
"Hi, Dr. Ward," my voice cracks, betraying me and the bravery I am so desperately holding onto. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. I swallow again.
"Something is wrong with my exam. The screen changed when I was on question 37." I attempt a smile that is supposed to be an apology for interrupting him to help with my nonsense.
"Show me," he says, the words rolling off his tongue. For a split second I forget he is talking about the computer and I feel my skin getting hot. I do want to show you. What do you want to see?
He stands up and I am reminded of what I came up here for: my stupid exam. I turn around and I begin retracing my steps back to my seat. I swear I can feel Dr. Ward's eyes on me as we bypass the eight rows that initially kept us apart. Turning left into my row, I find myself back in my seat. For a moment I am proud of myself for actually getting up and getting help.
"Hmmm..." Dr. Ward ponders as he stands behind me. Although I can't see him, I know that we are both staring at the buffering screen, thinking of ways to get me back to question 37. He leans over me to my left, creating almost a wall between me and my unaware classmate. I glance at her and she is enthralled in her exam, clicking away as if we aren't here.
"Let me see what I can do for you." I feel his breath burn my neck and I can feel myself begin to blush in response. What is wrong with me? Am I that deprived? This man is just doing his job. His right arm loops around me, pushing me slightly closer to my evil computer. Dr. Ward takes my mouse and begins clicking around. I begin to wonder how technologically literate this older man could possibly be.
"Maybe there's something I can do," I whisper as I try my best to not bring the girl's attention to me. I reach for the mouse. I think he is pulling away, making room for my attempt, but I embarrassingly find myself resting my hand upon his. I flinch hard and pull back. Underneath the desk I close my right hand into a fist, reminiscing on the feeling of our hands touching.
"Are you alright?" He wonders, not changing the volume of his voice. For some reason that puts me more on edge. Don't draw attention! Especially to me!
"I'm just upset about this," I reply, my voice shaking. I hope he cannot hear the efforts I'm making to conceal the truth: I'm just upset about this
