Birds || Fuenciado

Chapter 4: The Question Mark

"So how's work going, Vic?"

"Decent," I nod, settling myself a little more comfortably in the chair at the surgery. "It's been pretty busy lately."

"I can imagine," the nurse, a sweet-natured but fast-paced woman named Emma Reed chirrups as she dashes around the room, collecting relevant items. "This time of year when everyone's back at work, people suddenly realise how much they need coffee to get through the day."

"I include myself in that," I laugh, and she laughs back. "How's your son?"

"He's well," she smiles, placing the final item atop a small equipment trolley and wheeling it over so it's just to the right of me and behind. "He came home from school the other week with a teddy bear. Had to look after it for seven days and then provide a report on how it went. It was like having another child."

"How so?"

"Well, he insisted on giving this bear a report more interesting than anyone else's, so we had to take it to the zoo, on the ferry, around the park, we had to do jigsaws with it...I'm telling you, I haven't been so worn out since he was screaming his head off every night after I had him."

"Sounds like he'll make a wonderful parent," I nod approvingly, and she chuckles as she takes a needle from the trolley.

"I suppose so. Alright " she says, the storytelling tone gone from her voice and replaced with professionalism as she fiddles with more equipment, positioning herself directly behind me. A few seconds later both of her hands come to either side of my head and guides it forwards. "Just tilt your head down..."

She does the usual - cleans the area first, and then places the needle to the bare skin and pushes it under slowly, trying to minimise the amount of pain it causes me. It still fucking hurts - it's the kind of pain that starts off as a little pinch and then intensifies and tingles, spreading out in a circle in an unpleasant, biting ache. But I've had Emma, a short, slim woman with mousy brunette hair as my practitioner for a few years now and I'm used to the manner by which she does things, and her consistency and careful hands mean the pain is kept to a minimum. She's very sweet and friendly and very qualified, so I guess if I have to get these dumbass steroid shots to try and prompt at least some kind of fuzz growing, I might as well have them done by someone I like.

Today is five shots for five hairless patches, which makes my whole head kind of sore for the majority of mid morning and then some of the afternoon as well. Having called in sick to work knowing I wouldn't be emotionally or physically well enough to handle the day, all I can do when I return home to the empty house is sit down with a bag of frozen peas nearby, nursing the pinprick bruises forming on my skull and watch Steven Universe whilst I attempt to do some work in my sketchbook. My art is half assed today, so I sketch the outline of a boy sitting in a chair with his head in his hands and then give up. I already know this one isn't going to make the scrapbook.

I'm thinking about the fact that it's takeout tonight because nobody wants to cook and considering what I'm going to order from the Chinese when my phone lights up with a ping, alerting me to a message from an unknown number - unknown, that is, until I read the message.

Hey, it's Jaime :) wondering if you wanted to meet up soon?

And suddenly, my day has improved massively.

An involuntary smile springs up on my face, and I slide my closed sketch pad onto the coffee table and quickly reply, saving the number under his name.