Deborah looked down at the closed folder, and for a moment, the room was silent. Lauren began to wonder if perhaps she had said the wrong thing. selective amnesia when it comes to Del7 shoulder
“You know,” Deborah finally said, taking a deep breath. “When I received your résumé, I loved you on paper.”
Lauren swallowed, her eyes on the woman, trying to read her. “And forgive me for saying this, because it might be unprofessional… but after meeting you, I absolutely adore you.”
Lauren exhaled heavily, a relieved laugh escaping her lips. “Oh thank God,” she said softly, and Deborah laughed.
“What do you say we put an end to this stuffy interview process? When can you start?”
“Really?” Lauren asked, her eyebrows in her hairline. “Just like that?”
“You’re not that surprised, are you? I’ve already called your references. I think they wanted to put a hit out on me for stealing you.”
Lauren laughed, blushing slightly, and Deborah continued. “You are so beyond qualified for this job, it’s ridiculous. And I can sense your passion for kids, your passion for what you do. You’ll be a perfect fit here.”
“Wow, thank you so much,” Lauren said. “I don’t know what to say.”
Deborah quirked her brow and Lauren added quickly, “No, no! I mean I know what to say. The answer is yes. Yes, I want the job.”
“Wonderful,” Deborah said as she pushed back her chair and stood. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? We’ll walk you through some of our procedures in the morning, and then we’ll just throw you to the sharks and see if you can swim,” she added with a wink.
“That sounds perfect,” Lauren said, standing and extending her hand. “Really Mrs. Sayer, thank you so much.”
“Call me Deb,” she said. “I look forward to having you on staff.”
“You got it?” Lauren’s mother squealed into the phone. “That’s wonderful! Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! When do you start?”
“Tomorrow,” Lauren said, glancing in her rearview mirror before switching lanes to make the right turn onto East Bishop Street.
“Well, good luck, but you won’t need it. Daddy and I will be sending you good vibes.”
“Thanks Mom,” Lauren laughed. “Okay, I gotta go. I’m pulling into the chiropractor’s office.”
“Is today your first appointment?”
“Yes,” Lauren said, and she knew her mother would be able to detect the anxiety in her voice.
“You’ll be fine, Laur. These doctors are trained professionals, and you said he got a good recommendation, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll feel so much better afterward, you’ll wonder why you didn’t do this years ago.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Lauren said, cutting the engine.
“Call me later tonight, let me know how it goes, okay?”
“Alright. Love you, Mom. Talk soon.”
“Love you too. Bye-bye.”
Lauren ended the call and took a deep breath, tying her dark auburn hair back into a ponytail as she glanced out of the window at the office building.
She really, really didn’t want to { display: block; text-indent: 0%; her voicesodo this.
She’d had issues with her back ever since she was a teenager, but being a gymnast always came with injuries. It was never so bad that she couldn’t perform or compete; it was just something she had to pay a little extra attention to every now and then. Occasionally it would spasm, but after a few days of rest and stretching, she’d be as good as new.
Lately, however, that wasn’t the case. It took her longer to recover from the spasms, and it took less and less to set them off. Lauren had always been intimidated by chiropractors; the idea of letting someone move her spine around was very daunting, and up until now, she had avoided it. But she had read an article the other day about degenerative spinal disorders and how a common cause was untreated back injuries, and that was enough to scare her straight.
One of the girls in her class this summer had recommended her chiropractor, Dr. Adam Wells. She said he worked wonders and was friendly and comforting, and she promised he would put her at ease immediately.
If he can pull that off, Lauren thought, it will be an impressive feat.
She exited the car and walked into the office, giving the receptionist her name and her insurance card. In turn, she was given a packet of about twenty pages that she needed to fill out with her personal information.
When Lauren was just about done, one of the technicians came out to get her and led her back to the room where they’d be taking her x-rays.
“I’m going to need you to stand here, feet shoulder-width apart, arms out at your sides,” the girl said monotonously, her face expressionless. Lauren did as she was told, thinking that if Dr. Wells was anything like this girl, she was going to hightail it out of there.
“Are you pregnant?” the girl asked suddenly.
Lauren’s arms dropped back to her sides. “Excuse me?”
“Are you pregnant? We can’t do this if you are.” The girl cracked her gum, waiting for an answer.
“No, I’m not pregnant.”
The girl nodded, giving her the once-over and said, “I’m going to ask one more time. It’s important that you’re honest. Are you pregnant?”
“And I’m going to give you the same answer I just gave you. I’m. Not. Pregnant,” she said slowly, enunciating each word.
The girl snapped her gum. “Arms out,” she said before she pressed a button on the machine and left the room.
After the x-rays, she came back in and brusquely informed Lauren that Dr. Wells would be with her in a minute and instructed her to go back to the waiting room.
And Lauren went back to the waiting room, grabbed her things, and headed toward the exit.
“Lauren Monroe?”
She had her hand on the doorknob, and she closed her eyes. So close, she thought before she righted her expression and turned to see a man standing there in dark blue scrubs. If he hadn’t been wearing them, she would never have assumed he was the doctor. He looked more like a university soccer player with his tousled blond hair and beguiling grin.
“Yes,” she said somewhat sheepishly.
“Dr. Wells,” he said. “Were you about to stand me up?”
“No, no, I was just…” She stopped as his grin grew wider, and she dropped her shoulders in defeat. “I was about to stand you up.”
He laughed my master’s degree.”
Lauren tried not to smile. “It sounds like you’ve been stood up a lot.”
“Who, me? No, that’s just what I’ve heard happens.”
Lauren laughed, and he stepped to the side, sweeping his hand toward the door behind him. “Nothing scary yet. We’re just going to talk, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said, taking a tentative step toward him.
He allowed her to go first, and when they entered the office, he pulled the chair out for her before he walked around his desk and sat down.
As he began flipping through the papers on the clipboard, reading her information, Lauren glanced around the office, looking at his medical certificates and awards.
“How long have you been a doctor?”
He looked up at her from under his lashes before he smiled. “There better not be a Doogie Howser comment coming.” Lauren felt her cheeks turn red as he added, “I’m thirty, by the way.”
“I didn’t mean that to be insulting—”
“It’s okay,” he smiled before he turned his attention back to her packet. “I know I look young. It makes some people nervous, but I promise you, you’re in good hands.”
Lauren waited quietly for another minute before he closed the packet and looked up. “So, talk to me a little bit about your pain.”
Lauren explained her issues, stemming back to her days as a gymnast, and he nodded and jotted notes down on her chart, sometimes asking for further clarification or stopping to explain a technical term to her. After a few minutes, he slid her packet into a file folder and pushed back from the desk.