brow furrowed. “Well, if you’ll wait just a moment the doctor will be right with you.” She pulled the door to shut it, but it didn’t close all the way. Through the crack I watched her go over and hand my file to an older man and heard her say, “Dr. Anderson you have a patient, uh, Remy Sanderson, waiting for you in 5C.” The doctor glanced over my file, flipping pages, and muttered to himself, “Weight normal… Height okay… Blood pressure moderately high… Has she been to see us before?” “Nope, she has no file.” He looked down again. “Another young one. Is anybody with her?” “No, she came alone as far as I can tell.” “Did she mention her plans? Ask any questions?” “She barely spoke to me. She acts like she doesn’t want to be here.” “She’s only sixteen,” he said. “You don’t think she’ll….?” “I hope not, but we will, if that’s what she wants.” “Here, take these pamphlets with you when you go back,” he said, and for a moment neither of them moved. “Hello Remy, I’m Dr. Anderson,” he said, smiling, and shut the door quietly behind him. He was in his fifties-sixties, with wrinkles working their way into the curvature of his face, radiating from his blue-grey eyes, going deep around his mouth, and with a silvery grey comb-over hairstyle. A single hair fell across his forehead, drawing my focus to the bags under his eyes, which even his fake smile couldn’t camouflage. “Hi,” I said. “So.” He paused. “You’re pregnant.” “Um, yeah.” “Right, and you’ve done a home pregnancy test, I take it?” “Yes.” “Now, we’re going to do a confirmation pregnancy test, so I’m going to ask you to go into the bathroom in that corner, and pee in this cup.” “Okay.” “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, and left. I took the cup, went into the bathroom, and peed in it. I knew the test wouldn’t come out negative, but I was hoping it would. He came back and I handed him the cup and sat down to wait. I brought my knees to my chest and ducked my head down
Art and literary journal of University of Jamestown, Jamestown, N.D.