Which arm is tiss

G7 Philippina, G10 Philippina, and a B5 Philippino with Mom at Medical Office for lab work. B5 is just bustin’ with curiosity, checking everything out from the floor, to the people, to the trash cans. G7 is rushing about finding fun things to do and following B5. G10 is sitting across from me while Mom plays with paperwork. B5 and G7 smile at me and careen about the waiting room. G10 eyes me watching Her. I smile. Her: nothing. She’s wearing a thick winter coat with a fur edged hood. Flu? A cold? No, I think; She’s going to have blood drawn and She knows it. Very unhappy little girl. I memorize every square millimeter of Her. Beautiful Asian eyes, soft light brown face, blue jeans and can’t remember Her feet. (Not my thing.) I know She’s not having a great day. I want to chat with Her, help Her feel a bit better. I would take Her arm poke any time for Her. (I’ve had three in the past three days!)

I’m finished my tests and have to sit to make a phone call. I could have gone outside to make it but why not sit back down opposite G10? Oh, god, it’s Her turn and she takes off her winter coat. No time to photocopy Her body into my brain. Her angelic face has me stunned, ripping my attention straight out of my eyes. I cannot take my eyes off Her “beyond perfect” image. She’s too stressed to even look my way: death by blood test approaches. The rest of the world can go to hell. And I feel like I’m having three heart attacks, an aneurism, a kidney stone, and I’m drowning in lust even though I only had a tube of cholesterol drawn from my arm. I can die a happy man just looking at Her. I demand the clock to stop. I demand the world to freeze so I can spend the rest of my life just sitting there and watching Her breathe. She turns and looks plaintively at me but Mom pulls Her arm, dragging the condemned to Her impending trauma. God, I want to hold Her so badly; to take Her fears away, to prevent Her pain, to heal whatever ails Her.

The call I placed finally gets answered. I can’t remember my name.