Almost time.
Almost there.
Almost ready to be a real girl.
A nurse arrived at precisely ten to escort me.
The sampling laboratory looked nothing like I'd expected. It was almost spa-like with soft lighting, sage green walls, and floral art. The hum of an air purifier disguised the whirr of machinery. A lush looking chair sat near the middle of the room. Yes, there was medical equipment, but none of it felt scary because everything else felt a bit dreamy.
"Lucy, welcome." Doctor Swann's voice drew my attention to where she stood by a pristine countertop; she held a tablet in one hand, a stylus in the other. "Right on time."
“It’s nice in here,” I breathed out, voice a little shaky.
“Ah, yes.” The doctor glanced around the room. “This is a recent development. Higher-ups thought it would make the process more comfortable.” From her tone, I could tell she wasn’t a fan of the decision.
A sour faced man in glasses arrived, pushing a medical cart into the room. Doctor Swann didn’t make introductions; she just launched into orders.
“Beta Love, help Lucy to the changing area and make sure she has everything she needs.”
“Yes, Doctor Swann,” he nodded quickly, abandoning the cart next to a vented lab table and gesturing for me to follow him. It only took a few feet to reach a door which the man opened, revealing a small space with a bench and an oversized cotton gown hanging from a hook.
"Do you know how to put the gown on?” He asked, his attention only half on me.
“I’ve worn a few,” I tried to make light, but the man gave no sign he got the joke.
“Great, you can keep your underwear on.”
He strode off before I could respond.
I changed quickly, nervousness building by the second.
When I emerged, Doctor Swann was sitting on a stool next to the fancy chair. "Have a seat, Lucy. We'll make this as quick and comfortable as possible."
I settled against the seat, the gown gaping open. Goosebumps pricked along my exposed back as it made contact with the chilly chair surface. I shivered.
“Love, get Lucy one of the warmed blankets.”
Before I could say it wasn’t necessary, a blanket fell across my lap. I was instantly glad I didn’t refuse it. The warmth stopped the shaking.
For a moment, I watched the doctor and her assistant prepare vials and labels. Then I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was somewhere else. A beach. A mountain lodge. A movie theater.
I didn’t open my eyes when fingers began touching me, manipulating my body to access needed areas.
Retreating deeper into myself, I clung to fake memories made in places I’d never visited. I was walking down a street in Chicago; one I’d only ever seen online. There was a pizza shop on the corner that claimed to have the best deep-dish pepperoni. Then I roamed the aisles of a bookstore in New York. Rare first editions in glass cases. Floor to ceiling books. I walked slowly, tracing my fingers over spines. That one I’d seen in a magazine just a few days ago. As tiny pinches and odd sensations broke the surface, I sank lower, embedding myself so fully into the imaginary that I wondered if I’d ever come up to reality again.
Sticks and stonesmay break my bones.
No, really, they probably will.
But needles always hurt me.
I’d made up the stupid little song as Doctor Swann gathered my samples. Needles at my neck. Needles at my wrists. Prick after prick. Endless vials filled, blood taken from the crook of my left arm.
“All done!” The doctor finally announced. “Must not have been so bad if you fell asleep.”
She said it with all the confidence of someone who was absolutely wrong.
“Right,” I murmured. “Not bad at all.”
