Brightleaf by Raleigh Rand

I forget you? Getting enough sleep these days?”
    “What?”
    “You were catching some winks when I walked into the exam room. Remember?”
    I shake my head and I say, “I wouldn’t have fallen asleep if you didn’t make me wait so long in a freezing exam room. In a paper gown. Ya’ll should get some real robes. Or fur coats. It’s way too cold in there. Anyway, I could have fallen off that examination table and cracked my head wide open.” Then I take a deep breath and continue. “Also could you please not follow me so closely? It makes me nervous.” There, I said it. It feels so great to tell Dr. Jersey that he is the one who is making me wait, that he is the one who is causing me distress. It’s not the other way around, like he always acts. My face is hot and my heart is pounding.
    Dr. Dorrie takes off his glasses, wipes them, and puts them back on, like he’s thinking. Then he says, “I didn’t realize you felt unsafe during your appointment. I’ll talk to Dr. Salander about putting some pads on the floor, or maybe employing the belt to strap you in. We don’t normally use that, because patients are more comfortable without it, but I never thought much about the possibility of women falling off the table and injuring themselves. The patient’s comfort and safety is a high priority for us. Cotton robes are also a good suggestion.”
    I nod and feel myself softening. Good God. Where is my resolve?
    I hear myself saying, “I probably wouldn’t have fallen off, since I’ve got very good slumbering balance, but others may not be so lucky.”
    Dr. Dorrie smiles and says, “Not everyone has good slumbering balance.”
    I can’t help but notice how smooth his face is and what a pleasant smile he has. I need to get a hold of myself. I remind myself of all those New Jersey line-breakers, and shake my head in disgust.
    Then he says, “Hey, it’s been great talking with you. I’ve gotta get back to the office, but thanks for the good advice. Also, you should get your lights fixed. It’s very dangerous like that. I can’t tell when you’re gonna slow down, so I end up having to slam on brakes every few seconds.”
    “My lights?”
    “Yeah, both your brake lights are out. I just realized I’ve been behind your car on countless mornings on my way to the office. Sometimes I leave a little later to avoid you. Weird.”
    “It is weird,” I nod, twisting my keys. “Small world.”
    “So it’s a good thing you stopped,” he says. “And I’m glad to know it’s you driving the car instead of some neurotic road-rager who might shoot me or slash my tires.”
    I laugh a little too hard and say, “Me too. I’m glad it’s just me.” Then I remember it’s not just me. “The toddlers!” I run and jump in my car, put it in gear and crawl to the preschool, taking back streets. I look in my rearview mirror. Dr. Dorrie is following me. When I pull into the parking lot of Toddlers Are People, Too, he salutes me. As he drives away, I wonder if he was serious when he mentioned strapping me to the table.

11
    Brightleaf R.F.D
    June 14, 1990
    Dear Diary,
    Like on the Andy Griffith reruns, R.F.D. stands for Rural Free Delivery. In other words, B.L.T.-- Boring Little Town. Grandmother took me shopping at Dundy’s for a few things, but what I wouldn’t give for a new baby doll dress and a pair of acid washed jeans. I won’t be caught dead in the Little Mermaid swimsuit she picked out for me. She told me all the other swimsuits were too immodest for a girl my age. Forget the Brightleaf pool this summer. Grandmother has no cable, so there’s nothing to do but watch PBS and Lawrence Welk reruns on the local channel. That’s why I’m up here, writing again. Sometime I guess I’ll confess the Huey Incident. I would probably still be secretly in awe of Huey if he didn’t get too big for his britches and muscle ahead of me in the cafeteria and take the last chocolate pudding. Huey probably saw me standing there