Part 13 (2/2)
”I'm not buying it, Devon.”
”What, you think I didn't go on purpose?”
”Well.” Dom raises an eyebrow. ”You tell me.”
Devon presses her lips together, says nothing.
”We'll explore that later. So, moving on. What next?”
”Well-” Devon takes a second to collect herself. She's all rattled inside. Why couldn't she pee? She had tried, hadn't she? Devon shakes her head, shoving the questions away. ”So, anyway, the nurse told us to take the cup home and bring the sample back later. Like, the next day or something. She said we should keep it refrigerated until we brought it in.”
”And did you? Bring back the sample?”
Devon looks down at her hands. ”No.”
”And why not?”
Devon says nothing, her eyes still on her hands. Why not? There was a reason, wasn't there?
”Your mom knew about this, right? That they wanted a urine sample from you?”
”Yeah, she was still sitting there in the room with me, remember? Plus, on our way out, he-the doctor-saw us leaving and told us again to bring it back as soon as possible. So, yeah, she definitely knew.”
”Okay, so your mom understood that there was a possibility that you could have had a urinary tract infection or, even worse, something like diabetes, and she didn't make sure they got that sample?”
Devon shrugs. ”He wasn't her type.”
”What?”
Devon looks up at her. ”You know, the doctor? He wasn't her type. He was too . . . refined. Had too much cla.s.s. Was too smart. Basically, not a loser. I knew she'd never bother going back there just to bring in a cup of pee.”
chapter twelve.
A rap on her door, not the usual lock snapping, is what pulls Devon out of her sleep this morning. Her eyes spring open, check above her head at the window slats. Gray light, thick like fog, hangs there in the corner of her cell. A thought drifts through Devon's mind, Too early to wake up. Devon closes her eyes, throws an arm over them.
The rap again. Then the door sc.r.a.pes open.
Devon sits up quickly. That staff person, Henrietta, stands in the opening. Devon can see the light from the common area bright behind her. Henrietta s.h.i.+elds most of it.
”Time to wake up, okay?” Henrietta says. ”Your lawyer wants to talk to you. People who say lawyers have it easy don't know any who work here. Okay?”
Dom's here? Again? It's been less than twenty-four hours, and she's back already. Devon bends to retrieve her rubber slides from the cubby under her bed. She won't stand on the floor, even in her socks, without them.
”You'll need this, okay?” Henrietta tosses Devon's toiletry bag on the bed. ”Your lawyer won't appreciate morning breath hitting her from across the table.” She looks around the cell then, nodding to herself. Inspecting, as always.
Devon glances around, too. Everything is in its place. Henrietta will have nothing to correct, thankfully.
”Come out when you're ready,” Henrietta says at last. ”I'll leave the door open. And don't take forever, okay? Your lawyer has other things to do today than to just sit around waiting for you. Okay?”
”Okay.” Devon's voice is scratchy from sleep.
”I'll leave a note for the next s.h.i.+ft, okay? So they'll hold a tray back from breakfast for you. If you're still with your lawyer by the time breakfast rolls around. Okay?”
”Okay, thank you.”
Henrietta turns, sc.r.a.ping the door behind her. Leaves a crack for an opening; a sliver of light falls in an arc upon the cement floor.
Devon picks up her bedding, folds it before stacking it at the foot of her bed. Takes her toiletry bag to the corner of her cell where the stainless steel sink and toilet are waiting.
Dom looks up at Devon when the door clanks shut. This morning, she's wearing warm-ups. Devon notices Dom's damp hair, her ponytail hanging limply. Salt residue marking her temples, along her hairline. Her flushed face.
”Good morning, Devon.” Dom smiles. ”Sorry it's so early. I was at the Y, working out”-she unzips her warm-up top-”running on the treadmill and thinking over what we talked about yesterday. I do my best thinking when I'm running. I guess my mind is free to put things together. Excuse the sweatiness, but I just wanted to talk to you while it's all still fresh in my mind.”
Devon pushes herself off the door she'd been leaning against.
”So,” Dom says. ”I have some questions. I hope you can help me out.”
Devon raises her hands straight above her head in a long stretch. Yawns. ”I'll try.”
”Great.” Dom pulls out her yellow legal pad and pen. ”Let's revisit that doctor's appointment. The day you went to get your sports physical.”
From where she stands, Devon can see writing on the legal pad. Things circled. Notes scribbled in the margins. It makes her feel strange inside. She knows Dom takes notes, has watched her do it. But still. Dom's been studying those notes, thinking them over. Generating more questions even while she's exercising. Devon hates questions. Questions require answers, and answers require reflection. Probing. Remembering. Hard, exhausting work. She hugs herself, her hands cradling her elbows.
”Why don't you sit down, Devon?” Dom opens her palm toward the stool across from her. ”I don't know how long this will take.”
Dom waits as Devon moves for the stool, sits down. ”So, back to that doctor's appointment,” Dom says. ”Why do you think you reacted the way you did? When the doctor wanted to talk to you alone. To ask you more personal types of questions.”
Devon shrugs. ”He was annoying me. He wanted to know stuff that wasn't any of his business. And-”
”But you came to his office for an appointment, Devon. How is your health none of his business?”
”I was there for a sports physical. Nothing else. He didn't need to know any of that other stuff.”
”What 'other stuff'? What did you think he'd ask you when he got you alone?”
Devon s.h.i.+fts around on her stool. ”I don't know. He creeped me out, okay? I didn't want to be alone with him.”
”But wait, Devon. Didn't you tell me-” Dom flips through her yellow legal pad until she finds what she's looking for. ”Okay, didn't you say, and I quote: 'He wasn't her'-meaning, your mom's-'type. He was too refined, had too much cla.s.s, was too smart. Basically, not a loser.'” Dom looks up at Devon. ”I mean, those actually sound like some pretty positive descriptions. Don't you think? Creepy doesn't seem to fit.”
Devon glances from Dom's face to the legal pad. Dom takes down exact quotes? Devon brings a hand to her mouth, chews on her thumbnail. ”So what? He was creepy. Okay?”
”And, anyway, didn't he give you the option to have your mom stay in the room with you?” Dom looks down at her legal pad. ”I think you mentioned that. . . .”
”Yeah. So what?”
<script>