Page 79 of Absorbed

“MOVE!” Stacey’s mom growled sharply at the woman, as she supported Stacey’s weight with her left arm and reached for the door with her right.

The protestor stepped aside, but began chanting louder, “A person’s a person, no matter how small.” The others joined in, one voice blasting through a megaphone.

Once inside, Stacey’s mom pulled the door closed behind them, muffling the protestors’ chants. The waiting room’s bright fluorescent lights buzzed and blinked. The linoleum floors and orange plastic chairs reminded Stacey of a classroom. Three women sat in chairs against the wall. Only one was filling out paperwork on a clipboard, but none of them looked up or made eye contact with Stacey or her mom.

Across the room, on top of the reception desk, sat a privacy partition with a narrow window-like opening in front. The partition reached all the way to the acoustic square ceiling, and a call bell sat in front of it on the reception desk.

Stacey and her mother shuffled across to the desk, her mom’s work sneakers squeaking loudly. Stacey’s mom peeked through the opening, then shook her head. No one was back there.

Stacey lightly tapped the bell.

Behind the reception desk, a door opened with a beep and a click, then closed with a loud thud. A friendly female face appeared, framed by the partition’s opening. The receptionist was in her early sixties and wore lavender cartoon cat scrubs. Her fine white hair was twisted up in a bun, her skin almost translucent.

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

The receptionist had put a bit too much pink blush on her cheeks, too much lavender eyeshadow on her lids, but wore no mascara.

“My daughter needs to be tested for pregnancy and STDs. And she’d like to be put on the pill.”

The woman’s eyelids raised, but her smile never faltered, as she turned her attention to Stacey. “Is that correct?Wouldyou like to be put on the pill?Doyou need those tests?”

Stacey nodded enthusiastically, and squeezed her mom’s hand. “Yes. Please.”

“Okay, then.” The receptionist grabbed a clipboard and a pen and handed them through the opening to Stacey. “You need to fill these out. After you're done, set them here and ring the call bell. A nurse will let you know when someone is available to see you.”

“Thank you.” Stacey took the clipboard and looked around the room for a place to sit.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Her mom stopped the receptionist who was already headed back toward the door she’d come from. “Can you tell me what all of this is about?” She gestured at the partition.

“Ever since the shootings a little over a year ago, we’re extra cautious.” The receptionist lowered her voice to a whisper. “There have been bomb threats at facilities all around the country.”

Stacey’s mom closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

They sat down and Stacey began filling out the forms as her mother mumbled under her breath. “‘Every life is precious,’ my ass.”

Stacey turned to her. “Mom!Shhh…”

Her mom put her hands up to make it clear she would stop. Her nostrils flared.

The keypad lock on the door behind the receptionist beeped several times as different nurses emerged and called the names of other women in the waiting room. Finally, a thick Jamaican accent called out Stacey’s name.

The nurse was a tall, sturdy Black woman in her thirties, wearing bold scrubs covered in colorful squiggles. She had long, thin braids wrapped into an ornate bun, and her large, serious eyes gave her narrow face a no-nonsense expression.

Stacey’s mom stood to go inside with Stacey. The nurse held up her beautifully manicured hand to stop her.

“This about Stacey, an the choices she make for her health, Mother.”

Stacey’s mom nodded and sat back down.

Stacey swallowed and hobbled her way to the door, where the nurse reached out her hand to help.

The door shut hard behind them. They were in a bright corridor with buttery yellow walls, cheery aqua blue doors, and white tiles intermingled with blue and yellow squares on the floor.

The nurse guided Stacey down the hall. “Miss Clarisse, by the way. We ahead to room three here on the right.”She helped Stacey onto the table. The paper crinkled under her as Stacey shifted her weight back. The nurse sat on a rolling chair and opened a manila folder on her lap.

Nurse Clarisse’s face softened as she looked at Stacey. “Now, tell me what goin’ on, baby gal.”

Despite the nurse’s kindness, Stacey was exhausted from the night and drained from her conversation with her mom. She felt numb and wanted to do and say whatever she had to so she could put all of this behind her. “Ummm… Friday night, I had sex…for the first time. But he didn’t wear a condom.”

---