nodded. She couldn’t wait for him to leave the room so she could sneak a look at her lip in the mirror above the sink. She knew Kyle would be waiting outside for her, and she wanted to see the scar before he did. Dr. Laughlin opened the door and motioned for her to exit ahead of him. She wished he had left her alone for a few minutes by herself.
“Ready?” Kyle asked, rising from the waiting room’s brown plaid couch and gazing just a little too long at her upper lip. What did he think? How bad was it? She couldn’t tell by the look on his face.
“I think I’ll duck into the restroom, if you don’t mind waiting another minute,” Jessica said.
“Not a bit. I’ll be right here.” Kyle picked up the copy of
Time
magazine he had been reading and sat down, thumbing through it to find his place.
Jessica pushed the restroom’s door open and felt relieved no one else was there. She stood at the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The scar was easily seen. The whitish, half-moon shape perched half on her lip and half on her face, about a quarter of an inch from the corner of her mouth.
Jessica purposed to put her positive mental attitude into position.
It’s not too bad
.
But then her negative side galloped into her thoughts.
Oh, yes, it is! It’s awful. It’s permanent!
It’s only temporary. I’ll have cosmetic surgery just as soon as I can
.
Yeah, in about fifty years when you have enough money saved up. Until then, you’re going to be walking around disfigured; everyone will notice. Wherever you go, people will stare at your lip
.
Jessica tried to make both sides of the war scatter from her mind. She pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse and went to work. One last look in the mirror told her the lipstick was an improvement. It covered at least half of the tiny moon, and for now, that was good enough for her.
Kyle didn’t seem to notice when she joined him in the lobby. At least he didn’t look at her the way he had when she first exited the doctor’s office. He walked alongside her to the car, talking about an article he had just read about black holes in outer space. Jessica decided that was a good place to focus their conversations—in outer space.
Kyle had taken her to the chiropractor before her visit with Dr. Laughlin, and now he made a quick stop at Dairy Queen before returning her to school. Things became awkward at this point.
Kyle ordered for himself, then turned and said, “What would you like?”
Jessica’s pride rose to the fore. “I’ll get my own.” She only had the twelve dollars she had been hoarding for almost a week. Not much to carry her through, but she couldn’t accept Kyle’s offer.
He paid for his order, and Jessica stepped up to the window and ordered a junior hamburger and a small Coke. The clerk behind the window asked if she wanted tomatoes and onions on her burger, and she hesitated, wondering if it cost more. “No, thanks,” she said, pulling her money from her wallet casuallyand handing him a ten-dollar bill as if plenty more were stashed where that came from.
They sat at one of the picnic tables out front, Jessica with her junior burger and Kyle with his triple burger, large fries, and Oreo shiver. She had been to lunch with many men in her time and had gone dutch with many as well, but she couldn’t remember ever going dutch at a Dairy Queen. And she certainly couldn’t remember ever having this feeling of panic over money.
Within the first five minutes of their lunch, Jessica counted four people who greeted Kyle by name. He introduced Jessica to each of them, and once again she felt their warm Glenbrooke welcome. Of course, Kyle introduced her as Jessica Fenton.
At first, using a fake last name hadn’t seemed false, but like a necessity, and she hadn’t felt bad using it to protect herself. But now she felt prickly every time she heard it repeated.
Teri had invited her over to her house for dinner on Friday. How could she become
“Ready?” Kyle asked, rising from the waiting room’s brown plaid couch and gazing just a little too long at her upper lip. What did he think? How bad was it? She couldn’t tell by the look on his face.
“I think I’ll duck into the restroom, if you don’t mind waiting another minute,” Jessica said.
“Not a bit. I’ll be right here.” Kyle picked up the copy of
Time
magazine he had been reading and sat down, thumbing through it to find his place.
Jessica pushed the restroom’s door open and felt relieved no one else was there. She stood at the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The scar was easily seen. The whitish, half-moon shape perched half on her lip and half on her face, about a quarter of an inch from the corner of her mouth.
Jessica purposed to put her positive mental attitude into position.
It’s not too bad
.
But then her negative side galloped into her thoughts.
Oh, yes, it is! It’s awful. It’s permanent!
It’s only temporary. I’ll have cosmetic surgery just as soon as I can
.
Yeah, in about fifty years when you have enough money saved up. Until then, you’re going to be walking around disfigured; everyone will notice. Wherever you go, people will stare at your lip
.
Jessica tried to make both sides of the war scatter from her mind. She pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse and went to work. One last look in the mirror told her the lipstick was an improvement. It covered at least half of the tiny moon, and for now, that was good enough for her.
Kyle didn’t seem to notice when she joined him in the lobby. At least he didn’t look at her the way he had when she first exited the doctor’s office. He walked alongside her to the car, talking about an article he had just read about black holes in outer space. Jessica decided that was a good place to focus their conversations—in outer space.
Kyle had taken her to the chiropractor before her visit with Dr. Laughlin, and now he made a quick stop at Dairy Queen before returning her to school. Things became awkward at this point.
Kyle ordered for himself, then turned and said, “What would you like?”
Jessica’s pride rose to the fore. “I’ll get my own.” She only had the twelve dollars she had been hoarding for almost a week. Not much to carry her through, but she couldn’t accept Kyle’s offer.
He paid for his order, and Jessica stepped up to the window and ordered a junior hamburger and a small Coke. The clerk behind the window asked if she wanted tomatoes and onions on her burger, and she hesitated, wondering if it cost more. “No, thanks,” she said, pulling her money from her wallet casuallyand handing him a ten-dollar bill as if plenty more were stashed where that came from.
They sat at one of the picnic tables out front, Jessica with her junior burger and Kyle with his triple burger, large fries, and Oreo shiver. She had been to lunch with many men in her time and had gone dutch with many as well, but she couldn’t remember ever going dutch at a Dairy Queen. And she certainly couldn’t remember ever having this feeling of panic over money.
Within the first five minutes of their lunch, Jessica counted four people who greeted Kyle by name. He introduced Jessica to each of them, and once again she felt their warm Glenbrooke welcome. Of course, Kyle introduced her as Jessica Fenton.
At first, using a fake last name hadn’t seemed false, but like a necessity, and she hadn’t felt bad using it to protect herself. But now she felt prickly every time she heard it repeated.
Teri had invited her over to her house for dinner on Friday. How could she become
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