Chapter Two
Samantha
“Okay, Samantha, everything looks pretty good,” Dr. Warner said as she peeled her gloves off and tossed them in the trash. “Another year of your birth control pills and a refill of your anxiety medicine, then?”
I sat up and scooted to the end of the exam table as I smoothed the sheet over my lap and pulled the gown a bit closer. I nodded at my gynecologist, a petite woman with a bright, approachable smile. “Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you.”
She turned to the computer next to her and clicked through my chart, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she scanned all my information. “And I’m seeing here that you’re due for another tetanus booster.” The stool squeaked as she turned back to me and hit me with that smile again. “Do you have a couple extra minutes for us to get you up to date on that? Then it’s out of the way and you don’t have to think about it for ten more years.”
Ugh, needles. I hated needles, had ever since I could remember, but I resisted the urge to grab my neatly folded clothes and run out the door with all the important bits still hanging out.
Instead, I just nodded and pasted a weak smile on my face. “Yeah, that’s fine too. Can I get dressed first?”
She clicked something on the screen. “Sure, that’s fine.” Turning back to me, she looked me over with a practiced eye. “I can tell you’re not psyched about the shot. It’s an easy one, though. Baby stick. And my nurse is like a magician with those things.”
I sighed. “Am I that easy to read?”
Dr. Warner stood up and straightened her crisp, white lab coat. “Yeah, but even if you weren’t, I’d know.” She tapped her nose. “I can smell fear. It’s a doctor thing.” She paused. “Do I have to worry about you passing out?”
Passing out? God, I hoped not.
Firmly—that was the goal, anyway but it came out a little less convincingly than I intended, I said, “No. I’m not a fainter.” Technically true, I supposed. I hadn’t before. And what was that saying—if you believe it, you can achieve it?
I believed that I was stronger than my fear of needles. I could achieve complete consciousness the entire time.
I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved that the nurse only took a couple of minutes to show up with the vaccine. I had just finished pulling up my jeans and sliding into my sandals when a soft knock sounded on the door.
“You decent?” a chirpy voice said.
“Come on in,” I called. I congratulated myself for not sounding tense. Well, not too tense, anyway. Maybe a little anxious, but nothing too weird.
Just a shot, Sam,I told myself. A baby stick, like she said.
“Okay, Ms. Stanfield,” the nurse said as she pushed the door open with a shoulder, tray in hands. A tray with the needle on it, I noticed, gulping down the sudden sour taste in my mouth. “Tetanus booster, right?”
I nodded weakly and tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah. Tetanus booster.”
“All right, pick an arm.” She grabbed an alcohol wipe and smoothed it over the bared skin of my proffered arm, and I tried not to wince at the cold sensation of the evaporating liquid.
Suddenly, needle in hand, she stopped.
“You don’t look so good,” she said conversationally. “Do you need to lie down?”
I waved a hand. “No, no. I’ll look away and it’ll be fine.” I would not pass out or barf. Absolutely not.
The nurse—IVY, her badge said in bold black letters—arched a dark eyebrow. “You sure?”
I nodded. “I never faint. Just do it.”
Ivy shrugged. “All right,” she said as she moved in closer. “If you say so.”
“And then I passed out,” I said, finishing the story of how my morning had gone.
Across the table from me, my friend Annie shrieked out a laugh before clapping her hands over her mouth when the other coffee shop patrons turned and glared. For a full thirty seconds, she giggled behind her hands, her face pinking with mirth as her eyes sparkled. Finally, she pulled her hands away, still snorting gently with laughter.
“So how did it happen? Did you fall gracefully to the floor like in the movies or something?” She pulled her steaming cup of coffee closer and ripped open a couple packets of Sugar in the Raw, dumping them in before she stirred the dark liquid. Her spoon clanged noisily against the side of the ceramic cup.
That was Annie. Noise and light and laughter. She probably hoped for a theatrical fainting scene, just because she liked the way it looked in her head. She’d always been like that, ever since we were kids.