8.29.2013.

“Miss Chappelle, I truly hope you’ll let me suggest some options to you, before you go,” Dr. Regan started, pulling paper after paper out of the tan folder that had Emmy’s name scrawled across it.  

But Emmy stood, her knuckles whitening against the soft pink leather of her purse, still shaking her head back and forth.  

“Not today.” She said quietly.

“I understand.” Dr. Regan replied, his voice filled with unconvincing sadness. He rose out of his chair and glanced at the clock as if his mind had already forgotten her and jumped into his next appointment. “You will be back soon though? I encourage you to stay in the city this week and we can discuss your situation,” He continued on but Emmy heard nothing else.

Your situation. He had said. Your situation.

It was so cliché Emmy could have laughed aloud. Everything in that office suddenly seemed like a cheap Hallmark movie set. Doctors didn’t say things like this. Not really. And people like her didn’t get cancer. But Dr. Regan had said them.

And she had gotten cancer.

“I think I’d like to go back to my hotel now.” Emmy said foggily, grasping weakly at the doorknob. Dr. Regan hurried to help her. Anything to get her out of there, provided she paid his fee and bought into his empire by surrendering herself to treatments and drugs that would do no good.  

“Of course. Would you mind waiting in the lobby for a few minutes? I’d like to prepare a small package for you to take home. It will give you all the information you need at this point---”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine, thank you.” She waved him away, turning down the hallway like one in a trance. Her pulse quickened and her breaths grew shorter. She heard the doctor mumble something to a nurse behind her, but she didn’t waste the energy needed to turn around. The lobby door felt heavier than it should have and her thoughts raced.

“Ah, Miss Chappelle,” The receptionist caught up to her smilingly as Emmy hurried towards the door. “Dr. Regan asked me to have you to wait just a minute and we’ll have that packet for you straight away.” Emmy nodded uneasily, wanting to leave and forget everything that had just happened. Reluctantly, she lowered herself into one of the stiff office chairs for the third time that week, hating the way it felt and smelled. She then proceeded to trap her mind into thinking about nothing, anything, everything, besides what she had just heard the specialist say. She glanced wildly around the room, searching for distraction and finding none. Giving up, she picked up the same tired old People magazine that she’d read through twice before and buried her troubles away behind a wave of celebrity gossip.