receptionist

15 | Specialist Appointment — Part 1

The doors swung open, and I walked inside the beige specialist’s office, hoping to look young and healthy and confident, perhaps like a feminist lawyer with a full schedule — instead of the partially blind stay-at-home mom that I was. Jeremy followed behind, pushing a stroller with Zeke inside, half-asleep and gripping his cowboy doll. I walked up to the receptionist, who was on the phone, while Jeremy and Zeke retreated to a corner of the waiting room.

“I’ll be with you in one moment,” she said, raising one finger.

15 | Specialist Appointment — Part 1