Page 14 of Doll Face

“Nice to meet you, Macy,” he said, then he looked at the receptionist. “It’s okay, I knew they were coming.” Then he stepped closer to Macy and peeled off the bandage. “Oh, I see what you mean. Follow me, my dear. Let’s take a look at that cheek.”

He led her to another room that held a large x-ray machine. Doc went around turning things on before positioning her so he could get the perfect picture. Then he told her and Matteo to wait in his office while he read the scans.

They sat in the chairs in front of Doc’s desk, and Matteo placed his finger under her chin to lift her cheek to the light. “Fuck, baby. I think you might scar.”

She gave a one shoulder shrug. “What can you do?”

“You can move into a better section of town.”

Macy lifted her chin off his finger and eased back. “I’m thinking you don’t know what the word poor means.”

He scowled. “There has to be reasonably priced apartments in a better neighborhood.”

She didn’t reply because Matteo was so out of touch with reality it wasn’t even funny. Not that she held that against him. There were many people who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth, and she’d bet every dollar in her bank account that he was one of those privileged with money.

Doc rushed in with an x-ray photo and held it up to the light. “You have a very small fracture of the cheek bone, but I’m fairly confident it’s going to heal on its own.”

She gave a sigh of relief.

He grabbed his prescription pad and filled out a couple of sheets. “Are you allergic to any medicines?”

“Not really,” she replied. “But I have eosinophilic asthma.”

“Ah,” he said and then tore up one of the prescriptions. “Then I’ll write you something that doesn’t trigger an attack, and you can just take some acetaminophen for pain.”

“Wait,” Matteo said. “What is eosin…whatever-you-said asthma?”

“It’s a type of asthma where the person has high levels of white blood cells called eosinophils,” Doc explained. “How do you treat it, Macy?”

“I just have a rescue inhaler,” she replied. “Back up prednisone if the sputum gets too much.”

“There are better treatments,” he said. “Biologics. Corticosteroid inhalers.

“I know,” she replied. “But I can barely afford my bronchodilator.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, I know a few pulmonologists. I can get you samples if you’d like.”

Even though she declared to Matteo she didn’t want to be a charity case, she was logical enough to not turn down free medicine. Especially inhalers that cost hundreds of dollars.

“Yes, please,” she said quickly. “Thank you!”

Doc smiled and nodded. “I’ll pass it along to Matteo so he can get them to you. As for your cheek, since the skin broke, I want you to take the antibiotic. Clean gently. You can ice it alternating with heat to help reduce swelling.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Macy said. She rose and held her hand out to Doc. “You can send me a bill. I might have to pay in increments, though.”

“It’s fine, my dear. I’ve been taking care of Matteo since he was in diapers. Any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

Macy smiled and nodded because she knew a losing case when she heard one. Matteo stood, smoothed out his suit coat, and held out his hand to her. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, and after saying her thanks once more to Doc, she and Matteo left.

Back in the car, Matteo instructed Rocco to take them to some Italian restaurant.

“You’ll love this place,” Matteo said. “Authentic Italian cuisine.”

“You said you were born in Italy?”

“Yep, but my father moved my mother and I back to the states for his business,” he explained. “I spent my summers in Italy. Calabria, actually, in the southwest. At the bottom of the peninsula. What about you?”

“I’ve never been to Italy,” she said, smiling. “I’m the same as Rocco. Chicago born and bred.”

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