The Doctor

THE DOCTOR

Light glared off the doctor’s bald head. He was a short, sallow man with beady dark eyes. His white lab coat was much too large for his small frame and nearly spilled onto the sterile white floor.

The doctor was in possession of not-so-good news.

The girl had been bad, very bad indeed. She flinched when the doctor knowingly narrowed his eyes at her.

He tingled in anticipation of giving this news to the girl and her mother. Perhaps to compensate for his shortcomings or to give him a handful of power in a world where looks are so important, the doctor liked pointing out to people just how bad they were and just how many grievous sins they had committed.

And the girl in front of him was as naughty as they come.

She was only 12 years old. Her hair was mostly the color of strawberry, but it would probably be more blonde than red in a few years. Her eyes were an emerald green, and baby fat gave her face an innocent, angelic look.

But she was no angel.

She was pregnant.

And there was her mother, standing anxiously behind the girl.

Poor mother.

She had been so worried about her only child; why was Ashley throwing up so much? Why was Ashley fainting every other day? Why was Ashley so pale?

The doctor didn’t much like Karen, the mother. For one thing, her fingernails were so long and sharp that they were true claws. And they were painted such a garish, blinding red the doctor could hardly see past them. No, the doctor could not imagine himself with the mother.

But he could see himself with the girl. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure he’d be thinking about her when he got in bed that very night, and his hands would crawl into his boxers. He would groan with pleasure…

“So?” asked the mother, and she squeezed her daughter’s shoulders. “Did you find out what’s wrong with Ashley?”

The doctor let out a heavy sigh, as if he was not able to bear the burden of his knowledge any longer. “I did. I found out what’s wrong.”

The girl's eyelids fluttered. She wanted to disappear.

The doctor smiled.

The poor, clueless mother.

Karen spoke in an impatient rush. “Well? What is it? Will Ashley be all right?”

The doctor frowned in pretend thought, all the while enjoying the moment.

Just how would Karen react?

They were so unpredictable, these hillbilly mothers. But the doctor got the feeling he would enjoy this particular scene.

“Well.” He cleared his throat.

He slowly ran a finger over his clipboard.

And finally, he had wrought all he could from the moment.

He opened his mouth, not caring that he was exposing crooked little brown teeth. "Ms. Jones, your daughter's pregnant."

The girl’s eyes went wide, as if she couldn't believe the doctor had actually said it, that it's true, yes, yes, it's true, she was pregnant.

The mother’s mouth fell open. Shock paralyzed her whole being. She was quite comical-looking, actually, and the doctor was tempted to laugh.

Yes, the poor woman really had no idea.

Finally, the mother clamped her jaw shut. “Ashley is not pregnant. Don’t be ridiculous! She’s 12 years old! Redo the tests.”

Gravely, the doctor shook his head. “We ran them twice to make sure. There’s no doubt.”

The mother stared and stared at the doctor, and it was all he could do to keep his expression serious.

Finally, the mother turned to her child. “Tell him, Ashley. Tell him you can’t be pregnant. You know how people have babies, right?”

The girl, so small and white and trembling in her chair, cowered under her mother’s probing gaze.

“Well? Tell him.”

Ashley squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“No? You won’t tell him? What? What?” The mother took a small step back. “Oh, my God. You are pregnant.” Anger began to burn in her eyes. "Pregnant? Pregnant! Oh, I ought to--Who’s the father? Is it that kid Mark you hang out with all the time?”

The girl would not look at her mother.

She steadfastly refused to. She glued her gaze to the floor, her breaths frozen in her chest.

Karen was not having any of it, and she dug a claw into the girl’s shoulder.

The doctor grinned. Now this was more like it.

Ashley yelped in pain, but her high, whinny cry died away quickly.

“Who is the father?”

The girl answered, but barely.

And still she looked at the floor.

The doctor frowned. He could not hear her. That was no good. And so he took a step forward.

The girl’s mother hadn’t been able to make out the mumbles, either, and she kneeled, ever so slightly.

"Bob. Bob," the girl whispered. Pure terror filled her voice, and she shuddered just saying the name.

The doctor held his breath in mouth-watering anticipation.

“Bob?” Karen repeated. And still the doctor held his breath; this would indeed be a day to remember always, for Karen’s voice had suddenly become cold, like little sharp shards of ice. “Bob? You mean my Bob?”

The girl nodded slowly, and she ventured a pleading look at her mother. “Momma, he made me ... he made me.”

“Oh, my God.” Karen fluttered a talon-tipped hand over her heart. “Not my Bob. My Bob! How could you? How could you?” Karen’s face contorted into a grotesque mask. "How could you? How could you? Oh my God, Ashley, how could you?"

The doctor stood, completely stunned, as the mother’s rage grew.

The girl was just as stupefied, for she, too, could only stare, her eyes big, round and fearful, as her mother exploded into a monster.

Suddenly, the doctor wished he was far, far away. He was not enjoying this scene, after all.

He wondered if the mother would ever look at her daughter in the same, loving way she did when they first came in.

Somehow, he suspected not.

And the doctor began to feel sorry for the girl. Maybe he would not think about her in bed that night, after all.

THE END