4: Life Goes On

"FINE!"

Harper explodes from her seat, the gray chair on wheels flying back into a beige metal filing cabinet, "I'll get a big cog that can tell you the same thing: I'm a fuck up and the doctor can't see you today. Please," Harper accidentally swipes scattered items from her desk to the floor while talking with her hands.

Two colleagues go unnoticed, having quietly gathered on the other side of a pop-up, cubicle wall to listen in on the commotion disturbing their patient intakes.

"Get me fired so I can go home and get fucked up by MY piece of shit husband for losing the job that's putting food on -our- table!"

Looking at Harper, disinterested in anything she has to say, "That's the problem with your generation."

Betty shakes her head unenthused, snatching her purse from the counter and swinging it back onto her shoulder, "Princess finds out marriage is a dumpster-fire shit-show, and forgets what an honest day's work is."

Shaking her head, mercilessly reaming Harper, "No one's got a perfect fuckin' marriage! That don't change the fact that YOU'RE on the other side of the counter gettin' -paid- to do a fuckin' job."

Fuming, sweat rolling down a hairy upper lip, "Keep home at home and work at work!"

Harper's first instinct is to tell MIZZZ Johnson that her husband may come back to give her a ride tomorrow if she shaves that molest-ache and stops dressing like a jug of strawberry milk!

Fear of being homeless and a chastising sense of feminism takes over instead.

Realizing every facet of her life is falling apart, Harper's emotions betray her when she drops to her knees, hyperventilating on a brown harmony carpet.

"I'm so sorry Betty," the good doctor swoops in seemingly from nowhere with comforting grace and a reassuring smile, "I've always got time for the mommy of my five favorite kids!"

The petite physician in her white lab coat looks up at her long-term patient over the rim of purple eyeglasses. Eggplant curls, styled in a pixie cut, barely reach the large woman's shoulders.

Gently taking Betty's hand, she ushers her over to the medical assistant standing at the hall's entrance. Entrusting the irate woman with a middle-aged woman in pink scrubs, the doctor watches her best employee lead Betty to the last available of three exam rooms before turning to face Harper.

Cautiously approaching, tired brown eyes land on the top of Harper's immobile head while moving around the counter to touch the young lady's shoulder.

Whispering with a deep southern drawl, "Lisa'll be out to cover you. Take lunch."

Speechless, mouth agape, Harper shakily looks up at the motherly woman with shame; an uncharacteristically cold, sideways glance from her mentor sends a dry, uncomfortable gulp down Harper's throat while the doctor leaves her as swiftly as she came.

Climbing to her feet with red cheeks, Harper browses the waiting room to find quiet patients', eyes awkwardly darting from her to their cell phones.

Gathering the brochures and pens that were innocent bystanders in all this, she cleans up in time for her replacement in blue scrubs to walk over pushing the chair that was forced from its normal resting place.

*****

Sitting in the employee break room, a kitchenette with two, metal cafe tables and four matching chairs, Harper quietly eats microwave ramen.

As Harper tries not to think about the precarious fate of her desk job, she finds herself mulling over how unfairly Clyde was treated by her family. He could be a lot worse, since he never threatened to leave her.

When she thinks about it, he never really hit her harder than a slap when he wasn't shaking her, throwing things, or punching stuff. He's never really called her anything other than a pet name if he wasn't using her name, unless their love-making brought on a raunchier tone.

Finding peace with his tiny gestures, she can't deny she also enjoys the time he spends making love to her when they do join forces without fighting.

She had no doubt in her mind that he was just going through a rough patch because when things were good, he never failed to be generous or dedicated to her.

In Harper's mind, she found a real gem that's still being cut and polished to perfection.

Clyde in all his flaws was still better than what she could've ended up with, considering the horror stories around abuse she's heard while working in the only gynecology clinic for fifty miles in the small town beside her new campus.

After all, Harper has watched the doctor kindly assist sexual trauma victims, one as young as thirteen to as old at sixty three.

"...my "Prenatal Potency" involved finger paints and ice cream," the medical assistant in pink scrubs walks in on the phone giggling, "Yeah, I couldn't imagine if I lost control like that with -every- pregnancy."

Covering the mic of her cellphone when she spots Harper make eye contact, she nods and looks away, "Sorry, runnin' in for a cup o' joe," the lady in pink scrubs nearly tiptoes to the coffee maker.

Harper shrugs with a silent 'hi', watching the three-years-running employee of the month trap her smartphone between her ear and shoulder while pouring steaming, aromatic liquid into a white, ceramic mug.

Admiring blonde beach waves cascading down the older woman's back in a ponytail, Harper briefly wonders how a single mother of two always manages to look so put together when she can't even manage to take care of herself.

Watching the model employee leave without another word, Harper's gaze finds the wall-mounted television that's always muted with subtitles and never allowed to leave the news.

"...Our hearts go out to his family and classmates," staring at the screen unnerved, the accidental death of a student at the Kansas school she transferred from strikes close to home.

"Damn," speaking quietly to herself in the single window room, "I didn't know him but he was a cutie. How'd he–? Says…a spotlight killed him during a routine stage check."

Raising her eyebrows, "That's so weird…it really must've been his time," numbly glancing from a twenty four inch screen to the yellow broth and half-eaten noodles in her paper bowl, Harper's appetite vanishes.

Dragging her feet over gray-speckled, white tile in black, non-slip shoes, she carries the remnants of her lunch to the sink.

Draining the broth into a metal basin with cool, running water, "I better not die some stupid way like that."

Slamming the water knob back to shut it off, she tosses what's left of her meal in the brown, plastic trash can before returning to her desk with a fresh perspective on how to provide excellent customer service.

Thinking through all the ways she can argue for another chance at keeping this job, she spends the rest of her shift anxiously assisting patients and answering calls to the best of her ability.

*****

After quietly saying goodbye to her peers, she exits the lobby into a beautiful summer afternoon.

Muttering with a knee-jerk reaction when the humid weight of hot air smacks her in the face, "Fuck it gets so much hotter here than home."

Shaking her head with a grumble and clutching her backpack straps, "I wish I didn't open my big mouth loud enough for everyone to hear…"

Harper kicks a stray wood-chip from beige cement back into the tousled, mulch filled planter without defined borders, "But I -did- get one more strike because -everyone- knows what's going on at home," Harper taps the dark screen on her phone.

Shielding the glowing sun from a screen set to regular brightness, "Fuck my life," she rolls her eyes at the bold white 4:48 pm on her screen, "I hope no one tries to talk to me about my marriage like it's any of their business."

Dragging chewed nails through bangs flying in the languid breeze, "Damn, even the wind is too hot to work…"

Stopping in her tracks, a miserable groan echoes in her throat behind closed lips, "Do I even want to go straight home?".

Walking to her bike chained to a rack in the front of the clinic, "I've got homework…that I can't even focus on."

Harper scratches the back of her head while staring up at puffy white clouds, "Should I just say to hell with it and get a train tick–."

Nearly dropping her cell phone from startling vibrations, she looks at her screen to see Clyde's photo.

"Well, Fuck."