Sadie

Donnie: Coach needs to see me. I'll meet you at the doctor's office.

That was the last text message I received from Donnie. I've been waiting to be called back for the last hour. Joaquín's doesn't offer health insurance, so I'm at one of the free clinics downtown.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist sighs, typing away, not bothering to spare me a glance.

"How much longer will it be?"

"We'll get to you as soon as we can," she says, still not looking at me.

I groan in frustration, wanting to pull my hair out. If it weren't for the plastic barrier between us, I'd smack the attitude out of her. My patience is running low, and I feel a headache coming on. I need to sit before I lose my shit.

This place reminds me of the DMV with its plain gray walls and checkered floor tiles. The room is so crowded that every seat is taken. The colorful plastic chairs are lined up in four rows, back-to-back. Luckily, I'm sitting on the end of a row versus in the middle between crying babies, BO, and pissed-off mothers ranting about how much they hate the world and every man in it.

The woman beside me has four children and one on the way. I laugh when I hear her mumble "men and their dicks" while she changes her son's diaper in the chair.

"Sadie Ramirez?" I can barely hear the nurse calling my name over the screaming and the telephone ringing off the hook.

Fucking finally.

"Let's get your weight first." The nurse leads me through the door and down the narrow hall to a scale.

Once the nurse has my weight, she leads me into the very small exam room and takes my vitals. I sit at the examination table and wait.

Again.