If there is one thing I absolutely hate, it's being treated like a helpless invalid. I am an independent woman; I'm a lawyer for God's sake, but Rachel insists on fussing over me. I want to scream that I can do it all! I am capable! But I do not say a word; I sit there, and breathe deeply, trying to calm myself. What I really need is to be alone, but I know that's not going to happen, so I have to accept this form of torture.
"So, how long have you been feeling this way?"
God, she sounds like my shrink. I love Rachel, I really do, but sometimes she takes mothering to a different level. I lay on the couch, obeying my "mother," wanting nothing more than for her to leave me alone. "Every now and then," I reply, lying through my teeth. "I just need to rest for a bit, that's all." I believe rest is the healer of everything, that I can get rid of my ailment if I give myself time and let my racing brain take a break.
"You sure about that?" Her eyebrow is raised in disbelief and I know what she knows; I am a liar.
"Yup, just your average dizzy spell, that's all."
"You want me to put on some tea or something?"
"Nope, just let me rest. Oh, and could you close the blinds please?" I found that darkness helped whatever caused these spells…darkness and quiet and rest, especially rest.
*****
A few hours later, I awaken. Rachel is sitting on my windowsill, staring out at the city I love so much. She reminds me of Todd, and how he would stare out of our window for hours, saying nothing and doing nothing. I feel so much better; the spell has passed, but the last thing I feel like doing is talking.
Rachel must have sensed my eyes on her, so much like Todd and she turned around with a large smile on her face. Along with that smile was the look of relief that I am okay. "Hey, friend, you feelin' better?"
I nod, and thank her for staying with me. It occurs to me how blessed I am, to have someone who does care for me; it's so much more than what I've had the majority of my life. I know I lose sight of that sometime, and I think it's because I really don't care enough about myself.
"You scared me half to death back there."
"Yeah, it's okay now. I'm okay," I nod, more for my own reassurance than hers.
She is studying my eyes the way Todd always did. I have been thinking of him an awful lot tonight and I can't say it was entirely bad. I hide my feelings from her, just as I'd hidden them from Todd. But it doesn't change anything, not the way I feel about him or how much I miss him, it doesn't change anything, but it does add to my status as a bonafide liar.
"You've got a great place."
"Thanks." This really is a great place; Mami would be proud, I think. Then again, what do I know? She walked out on me when I was a kid. I have been sensitive lately, sensitive and nostalgic; it's so unlike me.
"Still like being above the masses, I see."
I shift my weight and propel myself upwards. So far, so good…no dizziness. I hope Rachel doesn't catch me being so cautious; she would have me checked into the hospital. "It's safe up here, Rach."
It's ironic that the woman who fell in love with the ever so dangerous Todd Manning could talk about safety. Oddly, the safest place I've ever known was in his arms after making love to him for hours on end. I shake my head, not wanting to think about it but I immediately realize I have no choice when it comes to him; my mind wanders wherever it wants.
"Tea, can I ask you something?"
"Only if I can ask you something."
"Deal," she agreed.
We both begin to speak at the same time, and politely offered to let the other speak. We eventually spit out the same words at the same time, "Where'd you meet Jared?"
I have no idea how we managed to tiptoe around that subject, but once it was out in the open, it was like the thick fog that existed between us, evaporated with the mention of the "elephant in the room."
I say I will go first, aloud, that's what I day. To myself I mutter, "I'm not going to tell very much; that secret would remain between the two of us." To Rachel, I tell the simple truth, "he's from New York and we went to school together. Your turn."
"I met him in Llanview when I went to visit my parents."
"So now you're…what?"
"We're dating. Your turn. How well did you know him?"
"That depends on your definition."
"Did you date him?"
This isn't actually a lie that I am about to utter, it's not the complete truth either, but I don't think either one of us would want to truth to come out. "No."
She is happy enough with my answer, I guess. She gives me a half-hearted smile, one of relief, I guess. I breathe easier, knowing she is accepting my brief and very vague explanation of our relationship.
Rachel and I talk awhile longer, until she looks at her watch and realizes Jared will probably be worried about her. A couple of times, her cell phone rang, but she didn't answer. She did look at the display, and judging from her facial expression, it was Jared on the other end.
She left around one in the morning, neither of us was able to stay up as late as we used to. I checked my locks the way I always do, closed my blinds, completed my nightly beauty ritual and went to bed. I pray the night will bring me a peaceful sleep.
*****
The Hospital
I dread seeing Dr. Morgan on this morning, so dark and rainy, it reeks of death. It wraps around me like a security blanket, forcing me to accept its discomfort. Thoughts, frightening thoughts, race through my mind as I make my way to her office.
There are other patients there this time, mostly older and falling apart. This is doing absolutely doing nothing to help with my already suffering ego. There is a scent in the air; cheap perfume combined with the overpowering smell of Ben Gay. I am reminded of my beloved arthritic grandmother, who spent hours upon hours in a doctor's office. No, clinics is a better word because she was so poor, it was the only treatment she could receive.
I sink into the well-used couch in the lobby and pick up a magazine. My eyes cannot focus on the words; I am too worried about what Dr. Morgan might find or might not find, which will only lead to more testing. I never really took the time to observe a doctor's office until I sat down, waiting for Dr. Morgan.
The walls are what I imagine the walk to the pearly gates to be, the brightest of whites with an sterile, almost virginal cleanliness. It was at the same time a comfort and a concern. Like maybe the sterility was an effort to cover death or to make one feel rejuvenated. I flip through each of the magazines while I wait, not even attempting to comprehend their content.
I have been waiting five extraordinarily long minutes, which would have been better spent on a conference call or some other form of work. I know I am a hyper person by nature; hyper-sensitive, hyper-energetic, hyper in every sense of the word. My leg keeps jumping, as if what's left of the muscle is going to leap from my skin. That's what I'm going to start doing again; I'm going to start dancing again. Yes, as soon as this shit is gone from my body, I'm going to enroll in an adult ballet class.
"Ms. Delgado," Dr. Morgan began, "I'm sorry for making you wait."
"That's okay."
She gives me a warm smile, which, I suppose, is her way of trying to make me feel better. "Follow me, please."
This walk is becoming a little too familiar to me. She let me enter her office before her and, as always, my inquisitive mind goes into overdrive. I look at all of her degrees, which are evenly and anally spaced on the wall, hanging at the same height. Her credentials are impressive; Stanford, University of Michigan, she had the best education.
She takes a seat on the opposite side of her desk this time. I think she had ceased being my friend and now it was time to get down to the business of being my doctor. My file is already open on her desk, wide open; I am just another label on a manila folder.
"So, have you had any symptoms since I saw you last?"
I nod in response. From the way she's looking at me, I know she's waiting for me to get her a rundown of what my symptoms are. "I fainted yesterday."
She doesn't bother to look at me, only writes furiously in that folder. I hate it when people refuse to look me in the eye, it reminds me of when I was growing up and nobody could fix their eyes to look down on me. I make her look me in the eyes by not talking until she was finished scribbling and ready to re-acknowledge me. I will not go back there to my childhood, where I was treated like an inconvenience.
"Did you feel anything before you fainted?"
"Not really, just, you know, a little sick to my stomach."
"I see. Has that happened to you before?"
"Every once and awhile, yes."
She writes something else in my folder, something my eyes will never see. When she finishes, she closes the folder as if hiding something from me. She slowly and deliberately slides her glasses to the top of her head and leans back in her chair. Why do I suddenly feel like I am in the Principal's office, waiting for my punishment?
"I'll tell what we're going to do." She crosses her arms, which do nothing to soothe my fears. "I'm ordering some tests, nothing too invasive."
"Okay."
"We'll start with the simple things, a blood test and urinalysis. I also want to run a CAT scan and MRI, but we'll set up another time for those."
"Okay."
She opens her file again; I guess it was time to return to "doctor" mode. "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"
"No."
"When is the last time you had an HIV test?"
"I had to have a blood test before my husband and I were married."
She looks up at me, seemingly surprised. "You're married."
"Divorced. I've been divorced for a couple of years."
"Have you had unprotected sex since then?"
"Yes."
"How many partners?"
"Three or four." I am ashamed. This woman I barely know is sitting behind her desk, judging me a whore. I know my posture deflates a little, and, as her questions became more invasive, I feel smaller and smaller. It's all over, that's what I keep telling myself, it's all over.
