The Evolutionist by Mason Rena

The Evolutionist by Mason Rena

Author:Mason, Rena [Mason, Rena]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Nightscape Press
Published: 2013-12-07T16:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I’m not exactly sure how I think that appointment went or any of the ones before it really, but I spoke my piece, and he didn’t overreact the way I thought. He hardly reacted at all, as if what I told him were trite. Dr. Light only seemed to get frustrated when I wasn’t able to tell him more. I wonder if he thinks I’m holding something back, and I honestly believe he means for me to work this out on my own, even though it’s his job to help.

“Try harder...” Really, that was the best he could do? I wonder how much that little bit of worthless advice cost. It doesn’t matter, I guess. It’s priceless just to have him listen and constantly assure me that I’m not psychotic. Overall, I think the visits with Dr. Light are helping, but I may be subconsciously thinking about him a little too much. I imagine him to be there when he’s not, and now, I even sense his presence in the abstract dreams. Although, I have a feeling it’s all about to change. I’ll have less time to think about him with Jon and his barrage of tests.

My phone rings as I’m turning off the exit for GenLabs. I swear Jon has ESP for these things.

“Hello.”

“Hey babe, you make it to GenLabs yet?”

“I’m on my way now.”

“’Kay, good. As soon as you’re finished, head over to Dr. Swanson’s office. He’s going to see you between his scheduled patients. You might have to wait a little.”

“Fine. I’ll be there, but if it starts getting late, I’m walking out.”

“Just show up.”

“Okay, bye.” There goes my darn thumb pressing the disconnect button again. It’s turning into one of those bad habits I’m starting to enjoy.

The parking isn’t so bad at GenLabs today, but Tuesdays are an off day for everything. It’s normally the day I do the grocery shopping, but it doesn’t look like I’ll get to any of that. I’ll have to go sometime tomorrow when it’s completely insane, the day before Thanksgiving.

Once more, I go to the counter inside and give the receptionist my name. She hands me one of those plastic cups in a clear bag with directions inside on how to give a urine sample.

“You can use the bathroom over there.” She points to a door hidden in a dark corner, behind the filthy chairs in the waiting area. Oh, great. I can just imagine…

No need for an imagination, the bathroom is absolutely disgusting. The same white tile used everywhere in GenLabs is in the ladies room, too, except it’s grimy, black, and sticky in here. As I enter one of the two stalls, I close the door behind me and try not to lean against anything. I hang my purse across my body and swing it around behind me. Still standing, I pull my jeans and underwear down together then push the cup between my legs. I fill it about halfway then stop. I grab a wad of toilet paper, slide the cup out and replace it with the paper.



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