"But, you know, maybe Im not cut out for this. I mean, an 85. What kind of professor will I be if I keep making 85s on my exams?"
I stared across the diner table at my boyfriend Roger, willing him to shut up, just for a second. He had been prattling on about his damn 85 - the first B hed received since starting college two years ago - ever since hed received the grade six hours earlier. We had been at this restaurant celebrating the first anniversary of our first date for over an hour and he hadnt even finished his salad, which was now limp and warm.
"Maybe I can take a make-up test," he began reasoning with himself. I heard a small, frustrated moan escape my throat, knowing a whole new rant was beginning.
"Roger," I said quickly, before he could begin again. He looked a bit startled, like had had forgotten I was there. "Could you just relax?" I said, almost pleadingly. I could hear the impatience creeping into my voice and I tried hard to control it. "Were here to celebrate our anniversary. An above-average grade is not something to get so worked up about."
"I want to do my best, Rachel. Is there something wrong with that?"
"Not at all, its commendable. But you cant expect yourself to get an A every time you take a test."
"Yes, I can. I expect myself to always perform at my best."
"Then maybe a B is the best you can do in Biology."
I could tell by the cold glare that I received that I had said exactly the wrong thing and I almost kicked myself at my insensitivity.
"Im sorry Roger," I said softly, glancing down. I looked back up at him and said, "I just hate seeing you beat yourself up over a grade most anyone else would rejoice over. Pattersons exams are notorious for being difficult."
His expression softened and he said, "Ive been quite a bore tonight, havent I?"
"A bit," I admitted, giving him what I hoped to appear as an understanding smile.
"Well, the nights still young," he said, throwing his napkin onto his still-full pla... Läs hela novellen
