Her eyes opened glancing above to see the window behind her. Her eyes were round and filled with sleep buggers. Bright white lines of morning sun light gleamed in between the vertical blinds. The Bed, Bath, and Beyond down comforter was already pushed off her body. She was a warm sleeper. One knee was bent. The other was sprawled wide. She curled her toes. Her bare soles threw a dozen folds.
She did not want to get up. She looked at the basket of socks next to her bed. Her feet were small. So, the socks were rolled up into soft cotton balls. Another basket was a tangle of her bras and panties. Her eyes trailed on the thin space between the bed and the wall. There were magazines with bold headlines, swimsuit bodies, and Photoshopped perfect smiles. The room was small.
She had to get up. Her feet walked over the standard apartment rental carpet into the adjacent bathroom. The mirror was messy with big dried water spots and finger smears. She looked at herself. She was twenty five years old. She was chubby. Her belly was wide. The chubbiness helped her fill up the boobs a little. Everything was still taught, because she was young enough. Her blond her was straight and pulled back into a pony tail. It had been business style. However, overnight strands had fallen out. She still had a bit of gentle pink lip stick from yesterday.
She surveyed the army of bottles and jars of shampoo, conditioner, creams, hair gels for one that was still at least half full. Her glance stopped at the cardboard soap box that was hiding her stashed away cigarettes. She had stopped smoking a few weeks ago. She would still stop smoking today. She found the deodorant. That would be good enough for today. She lathered the white stick over the stubble in her arm pit. She put a white tooth brush into her mouth.
After she was dressed into her neat, ironed, purple scrubs, she was ready to step out. The purple on her clothes was still brand new. The fabric was smooth and made her look presentable. Her roommate Nancy was already waiting for her at the kitchen table. Actually, Nancy was standing at attention next to the kitchen table. Nancy was holding a cereal bowl. Nancy carefully pushed it a little forward.
"Good morning, Nance. What are you up to?"
"Sandy, I made you breakfast."
"Huh, the cereal is already soggy."
"It's the thought that counts, right?"
"I don't know. A good breakfast counts also for something."
Sandy cautiously spooned the dissolved cereal into her mouth, while Nancy was still standing over her.
"Sandy, we are good friends, right?"
"Yes," Sandy grew increasingly alarmed.
Nancy threw her arms up and made a puppy face with big eyes. "I don't have the money for the water bill. I promise, I'll have it next week."
Sandy seized up and down Nancy. Nancy was barely more than 5 feet tall. Her bones structure was half as skinny as Sandy's. Nancy was three years younger. She had barely moved out from her parent's house. Her face was pale and shy. Sandy realized that there was no money. She had tried yelling about all the little things that Sandy had messed up in her childlike way. The paycheck had probably gone to buying cotton candy, music, or magazines.
"I'll talk to Peter," said Sandy. Peter was their boss. She might be able to get a cash advance. Her name was on the lease agreement. She wasn't going to let her credit get messed up. She was set on a five year plan to buy a place.
A few minutes later, the two were running down the stairs in their white sneakers and nurse garb. The Los Angeles sun was bright. The little grass strips in front of the houses gave the world a bit of a suburban charm. They rushed into their little out Honda. The radio played 'I'm sexy and I know it.' The girls sang to it full throated with the windows down. Nancy, in the passenger seat, was bobbing her whole body to the groove of the music. Their mind disconnected from the slow moving mass of steal that was the morning rush hour.
In the doctor's office, they sat with two colleagues behind the counter. Everyone had their own workstation. They filed away papers. Ruth was facing the front desk. She had golden blond hair, salacious red slip stick. Her fingers had golden rings. She welcomed the patients. Sandy and Nancy handled the back office work. Denise handled the medical billing. She was on the phone the whole day begging insurance companies for money. They were all in their early twenties.
Peter, the elderly doctor, rushed into the office. He had a self-important step. He had a big reddish birthmark on his forehead. His hair was receding. He wore an official suit with a white coat thrown over. He smiled at the girls, while he passed. One could sense that he felt pride at having the girls always look at him, ready to do whatever he wanted. Yet, he old school and always kept a distance.
The first patient was Andrew. He was a tall old man. Because of old age, he was bent over. His knees buckled strangely as he walked. His fingers were long, skinny, and shaky. The skin at his throat was sagging. When he spoke, he held onto each vowel for a second with a shaking voice in an attempt to hit the sound right. He placed his hand with age spots on the white counter.
"Good morning, I'm here for my urine sample."
Ruth smiled like a news anchor and reached into a bin with urine sample cups. She placed it on the counter and smiled at Andrew.
"The restroom is right down the hallway." Her elegant hand showed Andrew the way with a gracious gesture.
With Andrew wobbling a few steps away, Ruth's eyes popped out in exasperation. She whispered to the girls.
"That old geezer has spilled the urine sample the last two times. It was such a mess to clean it up. I don't know what to do with him."
Sandy swirled around on her rolling stool. Her face was pressed together and determined. She caught up with Andrew as he was entering the restroom. She slung in with him before he could close the door. It was a medical restroom in an old building. Everything was white. There was a porcelain toilet. There was a standard mirror. There was a pink pump for hand soap.
"Girl, what are you doing," said Andrew confused. He was standing there in his pleated pants and oversized flannel shirt. He didn't know what to do.
"I'll give you a hand with the urine sample," said Sandy swiftly.
She locked the door behind her with a click. Without a pause, she picked the old man's pant button. The zipper was down a second later.
"What do you think you are doing," stammered Andrew. Andrew's face was flush red with anger. His hand was swirling in the air half to threaten a blow and half to steady himself from falling over his frail legs.
