Page 10 of Xavier

What will my parents think?

The thin sanitary health paper sticks to the back of my legs. It’s hot in this tiny room. Really hot, like one hundred degrees hot.

The door opens and the older nurse comes in holding a small plastic cup.

“Alright, honey, give me a urine sample, and put the cup in the metal bin, and then I’ll take your blood so we can run all the tests.”

“Thank you.” I take the cup from her and walk down the hallway to the bathroom that shares a wall with the lab.

I’ve been coming here almost my entire life, but that doesn’t make the awkwardness of handing over a jar of my pee go away.

After I am finished, I screw the lid back on the plastic cup and put it in the metal cabinet.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands. My face is flushed with embarrassment, and my eyes are wide with fear.

Blowing out a deep breath, I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing.

In and out. In through my nose and out of my mouth.

I can’t let everyone know how scared I am.

When my emotions are stable, I walk back to my room and sit in the chair where the blood retrieval cart is.

A gentle knock sounds on the door before the nurse walks back in. “Alright, I’ll just get a blood sample and then you can be on your way.”

Leaning my head back against the wall, I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing.

I hate giving blood. I hate the pinching feeling. I hate the tourniquet they have to put on my arm. And most of all, I hate seeing the blood fill up the vials.

My stomach jolts in protest.

I can’t think about this right now.

I search my brain for something, anything, to think about other than what is happening to my arm.

The stranger.

My heart leaps in my chest as I picture his dark stare and the way his clothes clung to his body.

A few times last night when I couldn’t sleep, I even swore I could smell his bourbon and pine cologne.

The nurse’s voice breaks through my memories. “Alright, you’re going to feel a prick.”

A few seconds later, the junction of my elbow stings as the needle pierces my skin.

In and out. In and out.

The nurse finishes in record speed and jams a cotton ball against the pinhole before wrapping sports tape around my arm.

“Are you feeling alright, dear? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

I crack open my eyes and instantly regret it. The room spins as my stomach does somersaults. “I feel lightheaded, and the room is spinning.”

She rushes away and returns a few moments later with a small bottle of orange juice. “Drink this. It will help.”

I take the bottle from her and say, “Thank you.”

She puts up everything and throws the trash away. “I’m going to bring this to the lab. I’ll be right back to check on you.”

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