The desert was never ready for rain, nor were Phoenicians for that matter. Johnnie was no exception, and the constant smattering of the drops made her all the more agitated and depressed. Truth be told, she was anxious, and when she was anxious she grew cranky. Her windshield wipers whined as if to drive the feelings home, one of the rubber pieces hanging from the blade like a limp snake as it moved across the glass. The relentless desert sun had rotted it in the scorching heat, making it useless when the time came to actually use it. The sun was merciless that way, and it would eat at you down to the bone if you weren’t careful. But sun she was used to. She liked sitting in her hot car after being inside a cold building. She’d become reptilian that way, craving the heat and sunlight, needing it to feel alive.
She wished for that sun today, but wishes were just that, and she knew she was in for more rain the rest of the week. The winter had been cold and wet. She might as well give in and get an umbrella. She might as well give in and get new wipers.
“Fuck that.” She eased down her window and took in a palm full of droplets. The cold water did nothing for her. She sighed and powered the window back up, then muted the radio. The door in front of her loomed and the wipers whined. She wrung her hands along her steering wheel.
She should put the truck in reverse and get the hell out of there. Fucking tell Eddie it wasn’t for her, that she didn’t really need it after all. She was fine, just a little off her mark. Nothing a trip to Sedona couldn’t fix. Sit in the sweathouse and ooze it all out, then emerge and put it all back in, this time better, purified. But Sedona wasn’t beckoning, and the truck was only a year old, and she’d updated to a high loft in prominent downtown, along with a larger studio as well. Bottom line, she had shit to pay for and she wasn’t producing.
She slammed the heels of her hands against the wheel. She had to do this. She had everything to lose if she didn’t. She killed the engine and opened the door. Then she shut it. Then she cussed and opened it again. She cowered from the rain like a lizard worried about its scales, like a Phoenician, and hurried up to the door. She didn’t give herself time to think as she turned the knob. She just walked right in and stood, chime sounding, welcoming her, the door closing behind her. The waiting room was small but empty. Relief washed over her a little at not having to see anyone, but it didn’t last.
“Are you my three o’ clock?” The voice came from behind a wall of glass. Johnnie’s shoes squeaked as she approached the check-in counter. The woman was young, maybe twenty-two tops. She was made up nicely and had a very bright smile against tanned skin. She looked like she worked at a spa.
Johnnie couldn’t think of what to say. She was disappointed and hoped like hell she didn’t have to pay. This was not what she had hoped for and not what she’d requested.
“Riot?”
Johnnie looked away with embarrassment. The pseudonym was ridiculous, but then again so was what she was about to do. The woman apparently took her shame as a yes and nodded as if trying to comfort her.
“Great. I’m glad you showed. First time jitters and all.”
“I’ve been in my truck,” Johnnie found herself saying. “Outside.” She hitched her thumb back at the parking lot like an idiot.
“Right.” The woman dug a nail file out of a drawer full of Post-it Notes. “We get nervous. Nervous we understand.” She analyzed her well-manicured pinky and went to town on it. “No-shows we don’t understand. So don’t ever do that.”
Johnnie lowered her hand, trying to look casual but failing desperately.
The woman looked bored, like she’d seen it all before and then some. “You can go ahead and have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Johnnie took a step back and then stopped. The woman looked up at her, questioning her with her lifted eyebrow.
“It’s just that…I requested…someone older.”
The woman stopped filing, and the corner of her mouth rose. She was amused, and Johnnie wanted to die.
“Your appointment’s not with me, sweetie.”
Johnnie heated, and if spontaneous combustion were real, she’d be able to prove it at any given second.
“Have a seat.” The woman continued to smirk as she went back to her nails, completely ignoring Johnnie.
Johnnie sank her hands into her back pockets and then changed her mind and wiped her palms on her jeans. Anne Murray was playing through the speakers overhead which took her back in time and made her feel all the stranger.
She felt like she was in the wrong place. The professional decor, the music, the receptionist, it all seemed a little too bizarre. As if she were waiting for a business meeting or waiting to see a podiatrist. What the hell was this place?
The receptionist tapped the glass and slid a clipboard with papers through the slot. “We need you to fill this out. And just as a reminder, we’re cash only. Do you have your funds for your visit today?”
Anne Murray kept on. Her cheeks burned. “Yes.”
“I’ll need that now.”
Johnnie dug into her worn, paint splattered jeans, found the fold of hundreds, and placed them on the counter. “Don’t I pay…after?”
“Oh, no. We take it up front. No pay, no play.”
Johnnie couldn’t hold her gaze as the words settled in. “But what if I—”
“That contract explains it all. Read it, sign it, go in. Or don’t. It’s up to you. We don’t make you do anything here.”
Johnnie took the clipboard and sat. It was still up to her. She could still back out. Her foot began to move on its own accord as she read, and she knew it showed her nerves. But each time she stopped, it started up again when she wasn’t paying attention. Nail biting was out of the question because she didn’t have any long enough to bite, and she didn’t want to say or do anything more to show how freaked out she really was.
Are you currently or planning to become pregnant?
What the fuck? She thumbed through the questions.
Have you ever been suicidal?
Do you have any major health concerns?
Practitioner has the right to refuse service at any time.
Only validated appointments will be allowed into the waiting area.
Do not loiter in the parking lot.
Johnnie read them all and her mind shot up red flag after red flag. Still, she checked the boxes, like a drone, a drone paranoid and about to go haywire. She rose to turn it in, but she knew she couldn’t do it. She’d turn it in and leave. This was crazy. Too fucking crazy, even for her.
But to her surprise, the receptionist pressed a button, and the door to Johnnie’s left clicked as it unlocked.
“Go on back.”
“But—” She held up the paperwork. She hadn’t signed yet. Didn’t she have to sign? Couldn’t she still go?
“First door on the right. Your practitioner will be right with you.”
Practitioner. Is that what they are calling it these days?
Johnnie hesitated. Her insides screamed at her to run. Her legs, however, remained grounded.
The receptionist cocked her head. “It’s okay to be nervous. Everyone is.”
Johnnie glanced back at the door. It looked like an average door. But she knew anything but average remained beyond it.
“You’ve already paid; you might as well go in and talk.” She smiled, sincere like. Johnnie bought it and grasped desperately to it.
“Talk. Yeah, I can just talk.”