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“Sure.”
She goes through a list of standard questions: my family history of heart disease, diabetes, do I smoke, blah, blah, blah, I don’t even think, I just answer no.
“Are you sexually active?”
“No—oh wait no, I don’t mean no, I mean yes, sorry.” Good grief, that’s the whole reason I’m enduring this torturous appointment, so I can be tortured in more pleasurable ways.
“Why don’t you go head and put this gown on, and the doctor will be in with you shortly.”
I look at the pink paper gown, the ones they make you wear when they give you a full female exam. “Uh—I had a physical less than a year ago.” I am not having another until I have to, and I am not putting on the paper thing.
She gives me a look that says ‘just do it.’ “Its standard procedure.” She doesn’t wait for my answer before she leaves. I take my shirt off but leave the rest on. I pull another magazine off the small rack, Health this time, and then sit back on the exam table. This thing is so damn annoying. Every time I make even the smallest move, the paper crumples, echoing through the room. I start to shiver from my lack of shirt and only this paper towel that has no back covering me. This magazine is boring, so I lean over to get another one, when the door opens and a tall, well-dressed, good looking man in a white lab coat walks in. I’m so surprised that I lose my balance and crash to the floor, my paper towel gown coming up over my head.
“Are you okay?” He bends down to help me up. I pull the gown back over my head and take his hand.
“Fine, thanks, but I think you have the wrong room.”
“Are you Katherine Cook?” My mouth falls open. Please on all that is good and holy, do not let this be the doctor. “Y-es.” I stutter.
“Then I’m in the right place. I’m Dr. Adams.”
He holds his hand out for me to shake, but I just stare at it. “You’re not Dr. Ellis, I see Dr. Ellis. I told the lady when I made the appointment, that’s who my doctor was.”
Dr. Adams puts his hand down. “Well, Dr. Ellis was scheduled to see you, but she had a patient go into labor this afternoon. She’s at the hospital and I’m covering her appointments.”
A baby, the miracle of birth. The motivation that made me make this appointment and the reason I’m stuck with this guy, the hot doctor—karma’s a bitch. I sit back down on the table. “Sorry,” I mutter, “you caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Not a problem. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No, not really, but it has nothing to do with falling on my ass. If it’s all right with you, let’s get started.”
“Let’s start with the exam, and then we will go from there.” I feel the color drain from my face, and my mouth goes dry. “Just a check-up. I’m going to listen to your heart and make sure you’re healthy.”
Dr. Adams listens to my heart, looks down my throat, in my ears and up my nose. I think I’d rather have a rubber hose stuck up my nose than be here.
“Well, everything looks good.”
“That’s a relief. I was afraid I had Ebola.” I chuckle to myself, dispelling some of my nervousness, but it’s quickly squashed when Dr. Adams frowns. “Sorry, nervous habit.”
“No worries, this can be a bit nerve racking. Now you wanted to talk about your birth control options.”
I walk out of the exam room with a sigh of relief. Leave it to me to take something that should be painless and make it as emotionally painful as childbirth. Dr. Adams gave me my first three months of plain old regular birth control pills. There are several variations, I had no idea. Plus, a prescription for six more months.
I sign a few papers and pay for my appointment. I’m feeling pretty good about myself despite the disastrous appointment that neither my best friend came to—she could have called or text to tell me she wasn’t coming—or my husband. Which I sigh in relief at and feel guilty about all at the same time. I walk into the waiting room and stop cold. Laura is sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, both her legs and arms crossed, a snarl on her face that would curdle milk. Standing next to her, also with his arms crossed, his face devoid of any emotion, is Cole. I glance from Laura to Cole and back and then at the door. Um, I’ll take door number three. Or not. When Cole steps in front of it, obviously reading my thoughts and blocking my strategic exit.
I walk up to him, kissing him on the cheek. “Hey.” When the doors slide open, I grab his hand and he follows me out of the office. I glance back at Laura, giving her a pleading look, and nod for her to follow.
I start to walk towards the Dart but change my mind. I don’t want Cole to see the car I’m driving, so I keep walking until I reach the Ferrari. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“Seems like you didn’t want me to make it at all.”
Yikes, he’s mad. “What do you mean?” I’m just going to play dumb on this one.
“You wanted Laura here instead of me?”
Laura walks up, her arms still crossed, and she sticks her hip out in an ‘I’m pissed at you’ stance.
“Your fiancé is a jackass.”
