Fools Rush in(88)

“Your dad is so great,” Sam whispered. I didn’t turn my head, just nodded mutely, staring at my father’s gleaming bald spot. My stomach churned with acid, and a light sweat broke out on my forehead. Beside me, Dr. Whitaker chuckled at something my father said. The kids applauded.

Joe was next. As he spoke somewhat shyly about his apprenticeship, I stared at his flannel-clad back. My mind refused to shape the words that buzzed around in my head like a swarm of mosquitoes. No. Absolutely not. Stop. Sam turned to me again, and I whirled to face Dr. Whitaker.

“Do you…um, do you talk about anything in particular?” I whispered as the kids applauded for Joe.

“Not really. You’ll be fine.” Dr. Whitaker smiled reassuringly.

I would be fine? What did he mean by that?

Now it was Sam’s turn. My heart rate accelerated even more, my pulse thudding wildly in my ears, and I closed my eyes for a moment, dizzy. This was a nightmare. In fact, the whole scene was a textbook panic dream…sitting on a stage, terror racing through my limbs, heart hammering my chest. Unfortunately, I was wide awake, and in more ways than one. Sam said something that made the kids laugh…. He turned back to smile at us grown-ups because whatever he’d said apparently involved us. His eyes stopped on me for just a second.

Oh, damn it all.

The sandbags in my brain dissolved and the river came roaring over the banks.

I was in love with Sam Nickerson.

Sam. My brother-in-law!

No! my brain hollered. It’s practically incest! Completely wrong! What about Trish? And Danny! You can’t!

But I did.

My mouth was tacky, my throat coated in sawdust. My intestines rolled, my face practically shimmered with heat waves. I opened my dry mouth with an audible clack and sucked in a shuddering breath. Dr. Whitaker looked at me oddly. I stretched my mouth into a smile and blinked stupidly.

“…time to hear from Dr. Barnes.”

Dr. Barnes. That was me. Sam walked back toward me. Could he tell? Did he know? Why was he looking at me like that? Oh, God, he knew—

“It’s your turn, kiddo,” he whispered. “Knock ’em dead.”

My turn? My—oh, Christ. “You want me to do this?” I whispered to Dr. Whitaker.

“Is that all right?” he asked, his bushy gray eyebrows coming together in concern.

“Sure! Just…sure!”

Clenching my jaw against the urge to throw up, I smiled wildly again at Dr. Whitaker and wobbled to the podium. I glanced at Joe, who was staring at the floor. Poor Joe. Don’t look at Sam, I warned myself as my eyes found him. He winked at me, and my stomach clenched as a wave of warmth rolled over me.

“Hi.” My voice came out as a slight gasp. I looked at the kids, squinting against the stage lights. “Uh…I’m, um…I’m Millie. Millie Barnes. A doctor.” A doctor with shaking legs, about to puke on you. I giggled, but it morphed into a slight dry heave. “Sorry. I think I have a little stage fright.” I gripped the podium, my palms slick, and swallowed. Stage fright. Better than looking at Danny and blurting out the truth—I’m in love with your dad! I gave a slightly hysterical laugh.

Dr. Whitaker is sitting behind you, Millie, a rational voice in my brain called against the internal din. I swallowed again. “Okay. Down to business.” I cleared my throat. “I’m a doctor, which I just told you. Um, I work at the clinic in Wellfleet…but pretty soon, I’ll be working for Dr. Whitaker there.”

What else was I supposed to say? They all knew what doctors did! Everyone knew! What was the big mystery? Why did they want a doctor for their stupid Career Day? And where were those stupid note cards? In my stupid pocketbook, under my stupid chair, next to Sa—

“Well, in medicine, there are a lot of fields…um…like uh, orthopedics, which treats…um…uh, it’s from the Greek, ortho, meaning—” What did it mean? Ortho, ortho…My mind was empty. Oh, Sam. “Okay, and there’s, um, well, gynecology…no, let’s not talk about that one. How about pathology? Pathology’s fun. That’s the one with dead people. Autopsies. Cause of death. Stuff like that. It’s fun. Well, not fun…I meant interesting. It’s…interesting.”

This wasn’t going well. “Okay, lots of fields. You choose what you want in med school. Any questions?”

The students were supposed to save their questions for the end, but I couldn’t go on like this. Thankfully, a girl raised her hand.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“Me? Oh. I’m a family practitioner. I treat everybody, kids, adults, you know. But if you have a real problem, like heart disease or something really bad, we send you to someone else.” Well, that made us sound completely incompetent! “We’re the family doctor,” I backpedaled. “You get strep, you come to us. Um, need to lose weight, we’ll tell you.” I glanced at the audience, searching for inspiration. “Acne? We can help.”

Jesus, deliver me from this stage. “Next question?”

Danny took pity on me. “Millie, why did you become a family practitioner?”

Gazing at my nephew, I felt my terror ebb a bit. I took a deep breath. “Well, um, as you know, Danny, it’s because I—I guess I really want to get to know my patients. Sometimes, when people go to their doctor, it’s just routine stuff, like earaches or rashes or fevers. But patients let their family doctor into their lives, you know? They trust us to help them. There’s medicine out there that’s probably more exciting, like reconstructive surgery or emergency medicine, but in this field, I get to help you in your everyday life. And that’s what I always wanted to do.”