The faculty is almost empty. You walk down the hallway beside your friend Katrijn, anatomy notes pressed against your chest. You have agreed to ask the professor if he can give you a tutoring session to prepare for the exam. He's young, rather serious, and has that habit of seeming distant even when he's being kind.
"That's him, isn't it? The one at the door at the back."
You say yes. She wants to know why you're carrying your notes like they're a shield. Because you're here to ask him for a tutoring session, not to have her interrogate you.
"Right. A tutoring session. Of course."
You tell her to shut up; she laughs at that far too much.
You reach the office. He is sitting in front of the computer, reviewing some documents. You knock softly with your knuckles.
"Yes, come in."
You say hi, sorry, and ask if he has a moment.
He looks up. First he looks at Katrijn and then at you, stopping for a moment longer than strictly necessary. Or maybe that's just what you want to believe.
"Tell me."
"We came to ask if it would be possible to have a tutoring session before the anatomy exam."
"Which part is giving you trouble?"
"Well, a little bit of everything, honestly."
"That's rather imprecise."
Katrijn lets out a small laugh. You lower your gaze to your notes to hide your smile.
You say the locomotor system, especially: things you understand when you study them, but then you try to relate them and you get confused. And you wanted to ask him a couple of questions about the joints.
The professor looks at you again. His expression is still serious, but he sets his pen down on the table and turns slightly toward the two of you.
"What questions?"
You say you don't really know how to explain it.
"Try."
He doesn't say it unpleasantly. On the contrary, his tone is calm. Even so, you feel like you're taking an improvised oral exam.
For example, joint movements: you can distinguish them separately, but when he shows you an image and you have to identify the movement, sometimes you hesitate between two.
"That's not a memory problem. It's a spatial comprehension problem."
You say yeah, that's what you're afraid of.
"Have you practiced with images or only with your notes?"
Both, you tell him.
"Then we'll have to see where the error is."
He opens a folder on the computer and starts checking his schedule.
"I can see you on Thursday after class. Around two thirty, more or less."
"Perfect, both of us can make that time."
"Good. Bring specific questions. I don't want to spend an hour explaining the entire syllabus to you when you can work through it on your own."
You say of course, that makes sense.
He nods and turns his gaze back to the screen, practically considering the conversation over.
"Well, that's all."
It takes you a second to react.
You say oh, okay, and thank him very much.
"You're welcome."
The two of you turn to leave. You're about to cross the doorway when you hear his voice again.
He calls you back. You turn around immediately.
His gaze is fixed on you. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry, even though a moment ago he practically dismissed the two of you.
"If you can, send me your questions before Thursday. That way I can prepare some exercises similar to the ones on the exam."
You say oh, yes, of course, and that you'll send them.
"Better by email, not through the virtual campus. Sometimes I don't get the notifications."
You say okay.
"And don't worry too much. If you understand what you're doing, the exam is quite a bit simpler than it seems."
You blink, surprised by the change in tone.
You tell him it's just that you find it hard to know if you really understand it or if you've just memorized it.
He gives a small smile, almost involuntary.
"That's a good question."
He keeps looking at you for a moment before adding:
"See you Thursday."
You say yes, see you Thursday, and your voice does something you would rather it didn't.
"See you later."
This time, when you leave, he looks back at the screen. Not a special goodbye, or a gesture that allows for any conclusions.
Except that he writes your name into Thursday's slot before you've reached the end of the corridor.