Chapter 20: The Waiting Room

Greg parked at the curb outside the clinic and turned the engine off.

"I'll wait in the truck," he said.

"You can come in."

"This one's yours." He put his hand on my knee. "If you want me, I'm three steps away."

We had stopped at home on the way, and my father had put Tilly's carrier in my hands without a word.

I took it and went in alone.

The waiting room was full.

Eleven patients sat in the chairs, and the practice owner stood behind the front desk with her arms folded.

Three of my coworkers stood at the hall door in their scrubs, not working.

Garner stood in the middle of the carpet in the navy suit from the party, which was wrinkled now.

He held a printed page in both hands.

His phone leaned against a plant on the reception counter with its camera light on.

"...and I, Garner Ferris, state for the record that Kira Haskell concealed a psychiatric condition from her employer," he read.

His voice was flat and careful.

"She is unfit to put her hands in the mouths of patients, and she is an unsafe caregiver for a newborn."

An old man in the corner chair said, "Oh, for heaven's sake."

A young mother with a toddler on her lap put her hand over the child's ears.

"I request that the state dental board review her license," Garner read. "I also request..."

"Garner," I said.

He stopped and looked up.

His eyes were red.

"Whose words are those?" I said.

"They're mine."

"You said 'psychiatric condition.' In your whole life you have never said 'psychiatric condition.'"

A hygienist at the hall door snorted and turned it into a cough.

Garner looked down at the page.

"I'm just reading," he said.

"You sat at my table yesterday and told your own mother to be quiet. I watched you do it." I stepped closer. "That was you. This isn't."