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"I'll prescribe you prescription strength omeprazole from now on. I've never heard of this brand before."
I gulp. "It's the cheapest option close to where I live in Harlem."
Dr. Trina stares into my eyes. "Can I borrow one of these pills to analyze in the lab?"
"Sure."
She pops a pill out of the box and slides it in a plastic baggie.
She pats my shoulder. "Your father can pick up your prescription at his local pharmacy."
"He's not my father. He's my Daddy."
"I don't judge."
I tick my head up. "I've read scary things about omeprazole online. Is it dangerous?"
Dr. Trina shakes her head. "Omeprazole is a miracle drug. When you take it under the supervision of a doctor, it has one of the lowest side effect profiles of any drug on the market. It suppresses acid production in the stomach and prevents acid from escaping into the esophagus."
I grit my teeth. "I've read that the medication can cause bone issues."
Dr. Trina shakes her head. "There's a difference betweenabsoluterisk andrelativerisk. The populations scientists survey typically live in nursing homes. They have comorbid issues such as high blood pressure and diabetes. Your issue is the opposite. You're underweight and undernourished. You're more likely to experience health issues from insufficient vitamins and nutrients than omeprazole."
"Thank you so much." I shake Dr. Trina's hand again. "I appreciate this."
"You also may have a mild case of health anxiety." She jots something down on her notepad. "I'll prescribe you a small dose of a non-habit-forming antianxiety medication. I'll also recommend you see a therapist. They can help you with cognitive-behavioral therapy."
Dr. Trina heads out of the examination room a moment later. When she leaves, I turn to Constantine with my heart trembling in my chest.
"Daddy." My voice is soft, barely a whisper. "Dr. Trina wants to help me. She knows what's wrong with me."
Constantine stares into my eyes and pulls me in for a hug. "You did such a good job, Arlo. You were a brave, brave boy, and you didn't succumb to your fear of needles once. You showed my brother you had the strength of a Roman warrior and fought bravely against the worries in your head."
I look up at Constantine. I don't know where the notion comes from, but as I stare into Constantine's black-and-gold eyes, feeling his firm, muscular arms wrapped snug around my body, holding me close, as if in promise never let me go, I know this man will never let me down. The scariest things in the world could happen to me, and I could cry when I schedule my pH monitoring exam, but with Constantine by my side, everything will be all right.
It hits me all at once that Constantine made my dreams come true. This is what I fantasized about when I lived in Harlem, snuggling with Mr. Green, nestled under my scratchy blanket and trying to block out the screaming junkies on the street. This is what I dreamt about in Queens when my mother was strung out on the sofa and hooking up with her dealer to get her next fix.
Constantine protects me.
He supports me with my medical condition and takes me to see real doctors.
Don't ask me how I know it, but I'm the luckiest boy in the world.
I rest my cheek on Constantine's chest as I squeeze him tight. "Thank you, Daddy."
Constantine's calloused fingers migrate down my back, and he rubs my shirt before cupping my ass. "I told you this in the pillow fort, boy. I'm a nurturer. This brings me more pleasure than anything else."
I let out a laugh and blush as Constantine's words wash over me. I take another peek in his eyes, and then unbutton his shirt and slide my lips against his nipple.
"Take me back to our pillow fort, Daddy." I plant my mouth on Constantine's nipple, dusting it with a kiss. "Your boy needs alone time with Daddy now."
Constantine smacks my ass. "That's what Daddy likes to hear."
Constantine smoothes my hair out. "But don't get too comfortable, boy." He lets out a growl as he tilts my chin up, then runs his thumb over my lower lip.
I furrow my brow. What's Constantine talking about? I wrack my brain, but I can't recall anything on the schedule this afternoon.
Biting my lip, I glance up at Constantine. "What do you mean, Daddy?"
"My cousin Michael's wedding is next weekend." Constantine smirks as he kisses my cheek. "Daddy needs to buy you a suit."
