Status: Updates Every Three Days
My Medical Romance
One
Glasses boy. Allergies boy, I guessed. Why else would he be in an allergist’s office?
I’d seen him around before. He was in the waiting room of Dr. Baxter’s office every Tuesday, like me, and once in a while I’d see him around school. We’d even almost interacted, kind of.
Every week he’d be there before me, sitting next to who I guessed was his mom, reading the same issue of the Rolling Stone. I’d pick up a star-stalker magazine for my mom and by then he’d have put it down and then I’d read it. Well, not so much read as scan the same articles over again. That particular Tuesday was different.
He came in late, for one thing. I’d seen him every Tuesday that wasn’t a national or obscurely Jewish holiday for as long as I’d been going to Dr. Baxter’s for shots and this was the only time he’d ever come in after me. Also, the woman wasn’t with him. It was a black haired boy who I’d seen about as often as Glasses boy in school.
“Just sit, Mikey. I’ll sign you in.” Mikey. I could see how the name fit him as I peered over the top of the Rolling Stone magazine and my mother copied down a recipe from a decade old cooking magazine, having lost interest in the one I’d found for her. Mikey went over to the magazine table and I continued watching him even though I knew he was looking for the one I was holding.
He must’ve felt me staring at him, because he turned to look at me. Wordlessly, I held out the magazine and he walked over and took it, neither of us wanting to acknowledge that we obviously knew the regular routine even if we’d never had a conversation.
So we stared at each other for a minute.
“I’m Mikey,” he said finally. It was a strangely tiny voice. Like a medium voice, shoved into the tiny box of social awkwardness.
“I’m Iris.” I expected him to go sit down by the black haired boy, but instead of going to him, he came to us.
“Gerard, it’s fine,” Mikey insisted, and I wondered what they’d been talking about before they’d shown up.
“Hi,” Gerard said to my mother, who took one look at the long black hair and dark circles and promptly set her lips into a thin smile. “I’m really sorry, but this is my first time bringing my brother here for shots and I don’t know what to look for. My mom said something about ice, but she had to work late today and I could use some help.”
“Gerard, I told you it’s fine, I know what to do.” Both Gerard and my mother brushed this off before delving into a deep conversation about medical abnormalities like they were achievements.
“Oh! You’re Donna’s other son?”Gerard nodded. I was just shocked that they’d spoken and were on a first name basis. “Well, first off, after he gets his shots you need to wait for twenty minutes to make sure there’s no reaction. Well, Iris has to wait thirty because of how sensitive she is-”
“Ma!” I interjected, but she waved me off. I looked back to Mikey. He looked about ready to say something, but then Sally and Pat- the two ladies who gave the shots- called us into different rooms and we left Gerard and my mom talking about anaphylactic reactions and inhalers.
“So you finally started talking to the Way boy?” Pat asked, swiping my arm with rubbing alcohol. “Four today,” she added as an afterthought.
“You mean Mikey?”
“Cute kid. Figured you would talk eventually.” Small talk was the pleasant end of this. The unpleasant end was having syringes inserted into my arms and being pumped full of allergens.
Mikey was sitting across from his brother, slumped on the shabby couch. I knew the feeling.
“How are they?” My mom asked, and I rolled up my sleeves again. Pink, as usual. They’d start itching, and the Pat would remind me to take an antihistamine before coming even though I always did, and if they got really bad she’d take me to Dr. Baxter’s office and he’d look at my arms, make a nonchalant remark on how sensitive my immune system was and tell me to take some ice.
“How many do you get, Mikey?”
“Just two, Gerard. Cats and ragweed. You don’t have to worry.”
“I didn’t realize you were all in the same school- how weird, right Iris?” I nodded. Thankfully, my mom remembered a prescription she needed and left the couches to talk to a secretary.
I’d seen him around before. He was in the waiting room of Dr. Baxter’s office every Tuesday, like me, and once in a while I’d see him around school. We’d even almost interacted, kind of.
Every week he’d be there before me, sitting next to who I guessed was his mom, reading the same issue of the Rolling Stone. I’d pick up a star-stalker magazine for my mom and by then he’d have put it down and then I’d read it. Well, not so much read as scan the same articles over again. That particular Tuesday was different.
He came in late, for one thing. I’d seen him every Tuesday that wasn’t a national or obscurely Jewish holiday for as long as I’d been going to Dr. Baxter’s for shots and this was the only time he’d ever come in after me. Also, the woman wasn’t with him. It was a black haired boy who I’d seen about as often as Glasses boy in school.
“Just sit, Mikey. I’ll sign you in.” Mikey. I could see how the name fit him as I peered over the top of the Rolling Stone magazine and my mother copied down a recipe from a decade old cooking magazine, having lost interest in the one I’d found for her. Mikey went over to the magazine table and I continued watching him even though I knew he was looking for the one I was holding.
He must’ve felt me staring at him, because he turned to look at me. Wordlessly, I held out the magazine and he walked over and took it, neither of us wanting to acknowledge that we obviously knew the regular routine even if we’d never had a conversation.
So we stared at each other for a minute.
“I’m Mikey,” he said finally. It was a strangely tiny voice. Like a medium voice, shoved into the tiny box of social awkwardness.
“I’m Iris.” I expected him to go sit down by the black haired boy, but instead of going to him, he came to us.
“Gerard, it’s fine,” Mikey insisted, and I wondered what they’d been talking about before they’d shown up.
“Hi,” Gerard said to my mother, who took one look at the long black hair and dark circles and promptly set her lips into a thin smile. “I’m really sorry, but this is my first time bringing my brother here for shots and I don’t know what to look for. My mom said something about ice, but she had to work late today and I could use some help.”
“Gerard, I told you it’s fine, I know what to do.” Both Gerard and my mother brushed this off before delving into a deep conversation about medical abnormalities like they were achievements.
“Oh! You’re Donna’s other son?”Gerard nodded. I was just shocked that they’d spoken and were on a first name basis. “Well, first off, after he gets his shots you need to wait for twenty minutes to make sure there’s no reaction. Well, Iris has to wait thirty because of how sensitive she is-”
“Ma!” I interjected, but she waved me off. I looked back to Mikey. He looked about ready to say something, but then Sally and Pat- the two ladies who gave the shots- called us into different rooms and we left Gerard and my mom talking about anaphylactic reactions and inhalers.
“So you finally started talking to the Way boy?” Pat asked, swiping my arm with rubbing alcohol. “Four today,” she added as an afterthought.
“You mean Mikey?”
“Cute kid. Figured you would talk eventually.” Small talk was the pleasant end of this. The unpleasant end was having syringes inserted into my arms and being pumped full of allergens.
Mikey was sitting across from his brother, slumped on the shabby couch. I knew the feeling.
“How are they?” My mom asked, and I rolled up my sleeves again. Pink, as usual. They’d start itching, and the Pat would remind me to take an antihistamine before coming even though I always did, and if they got really bad she’d take me to Dr. Baxter’s office and he’d look at my arms, make a nonchalant remark on how sensitive my immune system was and tell me to take some ice.
“How many do you get, Mikey?”
“Just two, Gerard. Cats and ragweed. You don’t have to worry.”
“I didn’t realize you were all in the same school- how weird, right Iris?” I nodded. Thankfully, my mom remembered a prescription she needed and left the couches to talk to a secretary.