Page 111 of Oblivion

“Don’t I need to fill out any paperwork?” I ask.

“No, Mrs. Morris. We have all of your medical files already. Dr. Singh has been fully appraised of your history.”

Snapping my lips shut so I don’t sound like an idiot, I nod, and she leaves the room, flashing us a warm smile as she closes the door behind her.

“Do you need any help getting out of your clothes?” Evan asks with a cheeky grin. “We could play doctor and patient.”

“Eww. There is nothing sexy about a medical exam,” I exclaim with a shudder.

“Duly noted.” He laughs.

Not bothering to step behind the screen, I strip down to my underwear, then pull the gown around me. “Can you tie the strings?” I ask Evan.

Turning to give him my back, I pull my hair over my shoulder while he ties the strings and secures the gown.

“Aren’t you supposed to take your underwear off too?” he asks.

“I’ve never had to before. This isn’t a gyno appointment.”

A knock at the door interrupts us before Evan can speak again. “Come in,” I call.

The door opens a few seconds later, and an older man with salt and pepper hair and wire framed glasses strides into the room. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Morris. How are you both today?”

“We’re good, thanks,” Evan answers.

“Wonderful. Congratulations on your recent wedding.”

“Thank you,” I say, standing awkwardly at the end of the exam table.

“Now, this is just a routine physical, Mrs. Morris, so I’ll check your vitals, then pull some blood. I’ve accessed your medical records, and there’s no history of illness that should be of concern, so it’s all just precautionary. If you’d like to sit on the exam table, I’ll start with your blood pressure.”

The doctor is quick and efficient, and within ten minutes, he drapes his stethoscope around his neck and handwrites notes on his clipboard of papers. “Wonderful. Everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be. Your blood pressure is a little high, but doctors’ offices tend to make people anxious, which could account for that. Let’s draw some blood. I should have theresults back by lunchtime tomorrow, and I’ll give you a call if I have any concerns.”

“Thank you,” I say, cringing as he applies a tourniquet around my bicep.

“You don’t like needles?” Evan asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Who likes needles?” I question, closing my eyes.

Moments later, Evan’s hand lands on the back of my head, pressing my face into his warm chest. “Shh, baby. It’s almost over,” he assures me as I feel the prick of the needle entering my arm.

“All done,” Dr. Singh says, unfastening the band from around my arm and pressing a cotton ball to the spot he just drew blood from.

“Are you okay?” Evan asks, slowly pulling back until he can look down at me.

“I’m glad it’s over,” I confess, feeling a little sick.

“You’re pale,” Evan growls. “Doc, she’s pale.”

Dr. Singh strides to me, his eyes filled with concern. “Do you feel lightheaded, Mrs. Morris, or nauseous?”

“A little nauseous, but I always feel like this after I have to get blood taken,” I confess.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” Evan asks, crouching down as he cups my cheek and stares at me with worried eyes.

“Let me ask the nurse to get you an electrolyte drink,” the doctor says, rushing out of the room, like me feeling a little sick is a medical emergency.

“I’m fine,” I protest, but it sounds weak. When I look up, Evan’s eyes are hard, and his nose is flaring as he inhales sharp breaths.

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