Only the Good Die Young

Chapter 23.2

"It's too late," says the nurse, "but we need a urine sample to see if you're pregnant." She passes me a plastic container with a screw-top lid and indicates the washroom. "Void into the toilet, collect the sample in the vial mid-stream, then void the rest into the toilet." She passes it to me.

I walk into the bathroom and close the door. I hike the gown around my hips, squat over the toilet and relax my bladder. Urine runs into the bowl. I lower the container between my legs and feel liquid run over my fingers, then finish. The container is warm and disgusting and I screw the lid back on. I flush the toilet, rapidly press the liquid soap dispenser on the wall and wash my hands and the container, then re-enter the examining room.

"Here," I say, humiliated, miserable, handing my sample to Dr. Garbus. He passes it to the nurse.

"Sit on the table, please," says Dr. Garbus. "And extend your right arm."

He pulls out a long yellow rubber tube and tightens it around my bicep. My pulse thuds in my wrist. Then he takes out a small cotton swab, holds it to the top of a bottle, and flips the bottle briefly upside-down. He swabs a small spot on the inside of my elbow and flicks at it with his middle finger.

"Why do you need to do this?" I say. My stomach tightens into a knot. I hate hate needles.

"Several reasons, including HIV testing. Also to see if there are any traces of date-rape drugs in your system." He tries to sound caring as he lists them off, but his tone of voice is bored. I guess a stupid teenaged girl is just another day on the job. The nurse passes him a syringe and an empty vial.

A nurse in elementary school told me if you cough just as you get stuck, you won't feel it. I inhale slightly and cough as the needle slides under my skin. Dr. Garbus jams the vial into the other end of the needle, presses his thumb into my arm and undoes the rubber tubing around my bicep. I close my eyes. I can't stand the sight of blood.

"You're doing fine, honey," says Mom. She musses my hair.

Go away.

Dr. Garbus removes the needle, presses the cotton swab into my arm and fixes it in place with a piece of tape. He passes the vial to the nurse.

"Climb up on the table, please," says Dr. Garbus. "Place your feet inside the stirrups."

My body trembles as I rest my head on a thin white pillow. The paper on the table scratches my back through the gap in the hospital gown. I place my feet in cold metal silver stirrups that protrude from either side.

I lie on the table. I lay on the table. What's the difference? Where's Penderton when I need him? Getting laid? That's what Jesse did. Lying. That's what I did.

I stare at the ceiling and see Jesse on top of me. Bill on top of Mom. Mom resisted because he wouldn't use a condom. I didn't even ask.

She can't know. Ever.

"Will you turn on the stereo, please, nurse?" says Dr. Garbus. She moves to the far corner of the room and turns on a portable CD player.

"Music?" I say weakly.

The nurse holds up a small disc. On the cover is a red sky at sunset over a forested lake. The title reads The Most Relaxing Classical Music...Ever!

"We find it a helpful distraction," says Dr. Garbus. The nurse presses Play and the haunting notes that open Debussy's Clair De Lune fill the examining room. My eyes sting.

The doctor erects a small covering over my pelvis that's made from the same material as the hospital gown. I don't know if this is for my privacy or so I can't see what he's doing.