Wendy peers at me from the other side of her desk. She’s no longer typing on her computer, and I have no clue when she stopped. Wendy has been sitting at that desk for a long time. She’s in her sixties, like Dr. Hoffman, and has more experience than almost anyone in town at soothing patients, anxious friends, and relatives.
I stop biting my nails and cross my arms. “And if she’s not?”
“She has you, and she is not alone,” she says. “Whatever comes next, you will both get through it. And I promise you, what you’re imagining is worse. It almost always is.”
My cell phone vibrates, distracting me, and I pluck it from my pocket and scan the message.
Joel
Murph told me. Any news?
Me
She just went in to see the doctor.
Joel
Text me the second she comes out.
Me
Will do.
I return my phone to my pocket and sit back in my seat, tapping my feet as I wait.
A woman leaves her appointment with the nurse, but I only see her out of the corner of my eye. Ten minutes go by as I stare at Dr. Hoffman’s closed door, clinging to my positivity with nails bitten to the quick. I thought it was a habit I’d outgrown. Guess not. Turns out the right trigger brings it back to the surface. And that trigger is anything involving Rose.
The door swings open, and Dr. Hoffman sticks his gray head out, his pale blue eyes locking onto mine. “Win, can you come in here, please?”
All the blood drains from my face.
Shit. This is bad. Why the fuck didn’t I push to go in with her?
I grip my armrest, not trusting myself to stand. “Is something wrong?”
Better he tell me while I’m sitting than standing.
He steps to one side, opening the door just wide enough for me to slip through. “I’ll let Rose explain.”
Scrambling to my feet, I curse as my cell phone tumbles out of my pocket and onto the ground. With shaking hands, I scoop it up and rush from the waiting room to the doctor’s office.
I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous, but as I step through the door and Dr. Hoffman closes it behind me, I fight to keep my expression calm rather than panicked, in case something is seriously wrong and Rose needs me to be strong.
She’s lying on the examination table, knees bent and legs apart, a blue sheet covering the lower half of her body. There’s a small screen beside her. Neatly folded on a chair in the room's corner, beside a screen where she must have undressed, are the jeans and sneakers she was wearing earlier.
After my brief scan of the room, my eyes lock on Rose. “Is everything okay?”
She’s conscious andlookscalm, which means I can relax.
Maybe.
She pulls the blue sheet covering her lower body slightly higher. Her cheeks deepen from pink to dusty rose. “I tried to do it on my own, and then I remembered I don’t have to. I’d have gone to get you myself, but the doctor already set everything up, ready for the um?—”
“Transvaginal ultrasound,” Dr. Hoffman explains. “It’s painless. We’ll be looking at Rose’s pelvis to see if there is any abnormality in the uterus, cervix, and a couple of other places.”
Rose’s cheeks darken further, but her eyes sparkle with amusement as she says with a sigh, “I’ll leave you to figure out where that sucker goes.”
She looks embarrassed enough, so I keep any guesses to myself.
