“Okay, let’s get over with,” said Dr. Angela Ziegler.
She pulled on her latex gloves without that startling slapping sound in movies and TV.
Brigitte laughed nervously. “Y-yeah.”
“Why so nervous? Come on, Brigitte. You know what to expect by now.”
She walked around the exam table to Brigitte’s back. Her stethoscope screeched to a stop a couple inches above her skin.
“Wow.”
Brigitte’s face fell to her open hands.
“Okay, now I see…”
“Angelaaaa,” Brigitte complained to her hands.
“If only I could whistle like Jesse,” the doctor said. “I would.”
She wiggled her eyebrows and placed the end of the stethoscope between the long, scabbed-over scratch marks.
“Please don’t.”
Angela chuckled. She finished listening to her patient’s–her friend’s–breathing. Next was ears, eyes, and back of the throat.
“Any complaints?” the doctor asked, taking the tongue depressor out of Brigitte’s mouth.
She licked her lips.
“No. But I might be getting permanent hearing damage from Reinhardt’s roaring mid-battle. Ha.”
Angela smiled.
“Of course.” She pointed. “Now lie back! You haven’t had your pap smear in too long!”
Brigitte groaned but obeyed. No one likes getting a pap smear done. She wiggled her feet back and forth in the stirrups, impatiently waiting for the good doctor to finish.
“Hmmm. There’s a lot of redness down here.”
Brigitte shrunk down, her cheeks turning a pretty pink.
“Any idea why?” Angela asked.
“….no.”
Angela’s eyes peeked up to peer at Brigitte’s burning face.
“Really?” Her eyebrows asked. “You sure?”
Brigitte’s mind instantly recalled the night before, and the passionate night she spent with you.
“Wait. Aren’t you seeing someone…? That new agent…what’s their name…”
“Maybe,” Brigitte answered very quietly.
“Ohhhhhh. Lucky!”
Brigitte suddenly beamed.
“Yep!”
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