HUM by Dan Hawley (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📕

some family and friend time, a chill pill. She hoped that this sleep doctor would provide insight into what was going on with Jason and maybe help—even just take some of the pressure off, because if not, she feared something was going to pop.

Samantha’s thoughts dwelled on Jason and his troubles until she reached her destination. She entered the lobby and waited for the elevator. When it came, she entered with one other person. Two people were the maximum allowed now, for safety. The elevator took them up quickly. The man, dressed in an old brown suit, stood as far away from Samantha as possible. Any further and he’d be halfway up the wall. The most challenging adjustment Sam had to make was getting used to the way people looked at each other now. With fear. The tall, balding man with a shit-brown suit and black-rimmed glasses was looking at tiny little Sam as if she was going to beat him up and take his lunch money.

But that’s the way it was now.

Fear dripped from people, some more than others, but it was there on all people. You could almost smell it.

The elevator slowed and halted on the eighth floor. The door opened with a digital ding. Samantha exited and read the black sign behind glass on the opposite wall. Another digital chime and the elevator door closed behind her. 806—Dr. Greene, with an arrow pointing to the right. Samantha turned and headed in the direction of the office.

Room 806 opened up into a small waiting room. There was one other person there, sitting on a plastic chair in the corner, staring at her phone.

The waiting room had obviously been stripped of its former, typical furnishings. Cloth-lined, padded chairs had been swapped out for non-porous, blue plastic set three feet apart. There were no side tables; no magazines to leaf through while you waited. Gone were the wooden block toys and pop-up books for children or the young at heart. The room looked bleak—painted institutional yellow and empty. The receptionist was seated behind plexiglass to the left.

Sam walked over to the window and instinctually pumped sanitizer into her hand and massaged it in. The sharp smell of alcohol touched her nose.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Greene,” Sam said through the small holes in the glass.

“Insurance card?”

The receptionist was a young man with short, brown hair and a small face that his mask covered up to his eyeballs. Samantha slipped the card under the glass and waited for the nurse to poke about on the keyboard. He looked up at Sam while typing, then back down to finish his work. He slid the card back to her and asked her to have a seat.

“We’ll call you when the doctor is ready.”

“Thank you.”

Samantha turned and picked a seat that wasn’t close to the other waiting room occupant but wasn’t the farthest one away either.

After only a few short minutes, the door to the offices opened, and the nurse got up with charts in hand. “Betty?”

The woman sitting in the corner gathered her phone and purse and headed to the open door. “Room one, please,” the nurse said as Betty disappeared into the hall.

“And Samantha.”

Samantha stood up, phone in hand, and walked to the door.

“Room two, please.”

Samantha walked into the hallway, found her room, and sat down in the small plastic chair beside the bed. She didn’t want to get on the bed unless she had to. She looked around the medical room. On the wall hung the machine for taking blood pressure and the thing they stick in your ear. On the counter were jars filled with white cotton balls and wooden tongue depressors. A small laptop sat on a short desk with the password screen open. The bed was clean and sterile; white paper extended across its surface. A sudden knock startled Samantha.

The door opened. Dr. Greene entered wearing her white lab coat, a stethoscope around her neck, holding Samantha’s freshly printed chart. “Samantha?”

Sam nodded.

“Ok, let’s find out if you’re pregnant.”

CHAPTER 14

It was late morning by the time Samantha arrived home. After the doctor’s appointment, she had run some errands and picked up a few things from the grocery store. Samantha had walked slowly and almost aimlessly between destinations in the fresh, warm day. She had soaked up the sunshine and relished the freedom from the depressing confines of the apartment. There had been no real rush anyway, other than that it was almost lunchtime and she needed to get back to fix something to eat for herself and Jason. Jason, who may or may not be off his rocker when she got there. So she had delayed for as long as she could.

The apartment door closed with a click, and Samantha kicked off her short black boots. She walked to the kitchen to put the bags down on the floor beside the island. As she did, she saw that the office door was closed. Sam paused for a moment after setting the bags down and listened. Nothing. All quiet from inside the office. He’s probably napping, she thought. Perhaps for the best, she conceded.

Sam pictured Jason folded over his desk with the keyboard keys mashing into his scruffy face. She pictured herself opening the door. He would wake, looking at her groggily with hash marks implanted into his forehead and below his tired eyes. Sam shook the silly image from her mind, grabbed the wipes, and went to work wiping and putting away the items from the bags.

She ruefully wondered if they would ever go back to the old ways of living. Touching surfaces left, right, and center and not worrying about deadly microscopic death dealers. Would she someday bring things into their home without being compelled to promptly apply all her focus and attention to cleaning the potentially germ-laden intruders?

Probably not, she resigned. Those times felt so long ago, like another lifetime; someone else’s memories.

Samantha thought Jason would wake up from the sounds of pans banging and