“Yes, sir.”
The door closes. We are alone again. “You’re wasting your time. I’m okay,” I tell Dr. Beaker. “A little banged up…but living.”
Dr. Beaker strokes his goatee. “We all want to do what’s best for you.” He shuffles his papers. The nurse brings in a cup of coffee, hands it to him, and flashes him a smile. “Thanks,” he tells her, and takes a sip. He doesn’t begin on me until after the nurse leaves the room. “You turned fifteen a couple of days ago.”
I cross my arms over my chest, which is as close to an answer as I’m giving. I don’t know what day it is anyway.
“I vaguely remember being fifteen.” He chuckles. “It was a good age.”
“Really? I haven’t noticed.”
“I get it,” he says. “Being a teenager sucks when you’re a teenager. …show more content…
Your teenage years are—”
“The best years of my life,” I say, interrupting him. “So I heard. Just don’t believe it.”
“Can’t be all bad. What about school?”
Before I can reply, he suddenly yelps. He has spilled hot coffee down the front of his shirt. “Shit.” He blots the stain with his hand as if that’s going to help. “Sorry. Excuse the language. It slipped.”
“It’s okay.”
He settles back into the chair, ignoring his coffee soaked clothing. “Now then, what about school? Your classmates speak fondly of you. Seems you are well liked.”
I laugh, and then sigh, wondering where this is going.
He pauses, and lifts his eyes to mine. “That’s …show more content…
I tell him the obvious: “My sister should have never been with us.”
“What about your father?” he asks. “You moved, what did he do?”
“Momma said he kicked us out. That he didn’t want us anymore. I was five. Evie was not even one. He stayed behind.” My eyes start to swell a little. My breath gets short. “How could he do that, make us leave in the middle of the night? Not want his daughter and new baby?” I look away from Dr. Beaker, afraid I am going to cry.
“I can’t say, Millie. What do you remember about your father?”
“I remember….” I hesitate, not knowing the answer to that. Not knowing because I’ve never really thought about it. “He was nice. He took me to the playground while Momma was sleeping. When she was awake, they would fight.”
“Fight. What would they fight about, Millie?” Dr. Beaker’s tone remains calm, keeping me trying to answer his questions.
“About drinking. I remember them arguing, her exploding and leaving for a couple of days. The way Momma describes him doesn’t fit what I remember. He had kind of reddish, brown hair and hazel eyes, like mine. Everybody said we looked alike. He always made...” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
“He always made what,
The door closes. We are alone again. “You’re wasting your time. I’m okay,” I tell Dr. Beaker. “A little banged up…but living.”
Dr. Beaker strokes his goatee. “We all want to do what’s best for you.” He shuffles his papers. The nurse brings in a cup of coffee, hands it to him, and flashes him a smile. “Thanks,” he tells her, and takes a sip. He doesn’t begin on me until after the nurse leaves the room. “You turned fifteen a couple of days ago.”
I cross my arms over my chest, which is as close to an answer as I’m giving. I don’t know what day it is anyway.
“I vaguely remember being fifteen.” He chuckles. “It was a good age.”
“Really? I haven’t noticed.”
“I get it,” he says. “Being a teenager sucks when you’re a teenager. …show more content…
Your teenage years are—”
“The best years of my life,” I say, interrupting him. “So I heard. Just don’t believe it.”
“Can’t be all bad. What about school?”
Before I can reply, he suddenly yelps. He has spilled hot coffee down the front of his shirt. “Shit.” He blots the stain with his hand as if that’s going to help. “Sorry. Excuse the language. It slipped.”
“It’s okay.”
He settles back into the chair, ignoring his coffee soaked clothing. “Now then, what about school? Your classmates speak fondly of you. Seems you are well liked.”
I laugh, and then sigh, wondering where this is going.
He pauses, and lifts his eyes to mine. “That’s …show more content…
I tell him the obvious: “My sister should have never been with us.”
“What about your father?” he asks. “You moved, what did he do?”
“Momma said he kicked us out. That he didn’t want us anymore. I was five. Evie was not even one. He stayed behind.” My eyes start to swell a little. My breath gets short. “How could he do that, make us leave in the middle of the night? Not want his daughter and new baby?” I look away from Dr. Beaker, afraid I am going to cry.
“I can’t say, Millie. What do you remember about your father?”
“I remember….” I hesitate, not knowing the answer to that. Not knowing because I’ve never really thought about it. “He was nice. He took me to the playground while Momma was sleeping. When she was awake, they would fight.”
“Fight. What would they fight about, Millie?” Dr. Beaker’s tone remains calm, keeping me trying to answer his questions.
“About drinking. I remember them arguing, her exploding and leaving for a couple of days. The way Momma describes him doesn’t fit what I remember. He had kind of reddish, brown hair and hazel eyes, like mine. Everybody said we looked alike. He always made...” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
“He always made what,