“Yeah, well, I know I wouldn’t want a dog. Seems like it would be really inhibiting if you wanted to go on vacation or have friends, or inhibiting financially at least, if you want to be able to pay your bills. That’s what the adoption fee is for. To weed people out.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I just thought my son would like having a dog.”

“Right,” said Megan.

“Anyway, nothing new with you, then?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.” Megan’s hangover was critical.

“You get your email?” asked Jillian.

“Yeah, I got it. Cute dogs.”

“I know, I just thought that was so funny.”

I just want to get my work done so I can go home, thought Megan. And then what?

Things are going to get better after a while, after I get a few more things in order and out of the way, things are going to start getting better, I promise, thought Jillian. I promise.

Dr. Billings poked his head out of his office. “Uh, Jillian,” he said. “Did you get a chance to order those gowns?”

“Yeah, I ordered them last week when you asked me to.”

“They haven’t come yet. Usually it only takes a few days. They’re in town. If you haven’t ordered them yet, I could always drive by after work.”

“No, I ordered them. I don’t know why they haven’t come yet, but I ordered them.”

“Ok. If they don’t come tomorrow, why don’t you give them a call. They might not have the right address, but they should have our address.”

“No problem,” said Jillian. Megan rolled her eyes. “I’ll give ’em a call tomorrow,” said Jillian.

“Ok. I don’t have patients until one, right?” asked Dr. Billings.

“Nope, that’s right,” said Jillian.

“Ok,” said Dr. Billings. “I’ll be back.” He left the office. Jillian picked up the phone and in a moment whispered, “Hi, my name is Jillian and I’m calling from Dr. Billings’s office. Yeah. Hi. I’d like to place an order for some surgical gowns. You got it.”

Megan paused from her work and shook her head. I’m shaking my head with disbelief, she thought. But then she realized an opportunity had been presented to her and she slipped the public restroom key into the waistband of her skirt and went outside for a smoke break.

The cigarette undid her tension from the top down, liquefying her brain, lungs, fingers, bowels, spirit, etc.

In the locked, single-toilet public restroom, between spasms, she leaned back on the flush-pipe and thought.

“Do you have a name for that llama yet?”

“No, I don’t have a name yet.”

“Why don’t you name it Megan?”

“Uuuhhmmm?”

“Yeah, you can name it Megan and then you can take a knife and stab it in the ass or the face or wherever you want. Whatever you want, really, but if you name it Megan it’ll be like I’m close to you while you work.”

“Uh, what?”