Page 2 of Make Me Want it Too

“Oh, don’t you look lovely,” she says, which roughly translates to you don’t look as frumpy as you normally do in your scrubs.

“Thanks!” I say, voice muffled, as my mouth is now full of the chocolate chip granola bar. I swallow quickly, trying not to wince as the sharp edges poke my throat on the way down.

She holds me hostage for a few minutes, showing me pictures of her granddaughter from the Fourth of July.

I look at the pictures of the toddler in a red, white, and blue outfit—running toward the camera, blurry; eating a cupcake, frosting on her face; crying while holding a sparkler—and comment on how much bigger she looks than in the last pictures I saw of her while wondering if I can take another bite of my granola bar without appearing rude.

My phone buzzes in my right pocket. I hope it’s not Spencer. He knows I clocked out fifteen minutes ago, and I haven’t called him yet.

“I’ll see you next week,” I say as I turn and check my phone before it stops buzzing. It’s not Spencer.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Macy, quick question—” She goes on to start describing a mole on her husband, Rick’s, back. Except that they’re not sure it is a mole, and it seems to be changing color.

I remind her that I’m a labor and delivery nurse, not a dermatologist. And she should have him go see one of those to have it checked out.

“I’ll just send you a picture?—”

Oh lord. “Mom, please do not send me a picture.”

“It’s just that there’s always such long waiting times to see doctors, and we need to make sure everything is okay before our trip. Don’t want anything to keep us from enjoying the beach and sun in Aruba.”

“You’re going to Aruba?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Rick’s taking me to Aruba over Christmas.”

“You didn’t. Wait—you’re going to be gone over Christmas?”

“Yes! We’re so excited. I know you usually come visit for Christmas, but you’ll be fine on your own, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “Of course I will be. I always am. I hope you guys have a fun time. Christmas is more than four months away. I’m positive you’ll be able to get in to see someone.”

“All right. Are you sure I can’t send you a picture?”

I end the call after assuring her I’m not qualified to make a diagnosis, and take a seat on the Metro, exhausted.

Bex:

are you going to drink with me tonight???

I might or might not be already unsober

Me:

probably not

Bex:

but Wood brought SO much booze

Me:

Wood’s there?

Bex:

Livvy and Noah are here, of course Wood is

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