Short Story Excerpt!

Hi Everyone! Here is a working short story from a writing course I'm taking, focused on character development. I'm thinking of working it into my existing novel, Plan A. Enjoy!

When I first walked into The Consultation Room, I was welcomed by Rhea, a fair-skinned woman with straight, cinnamon hair that grazed the collar of her patterned blouse. Elbow macaroni pieces seemed to spread across her shirt's navy fabric until I focused on an individual shape and it morphed into a tiny duck. They were almost too small to notice at first, but now I could see the tiny duck orint all over her shirt. They could easily have been confused for anything else, but now the ducks were so obvious that seeing them as curved shapes again was a wasted effort. What an interesting power perception has, I thought. What subtle tricks it plays. Darling little ducks.

Rhea waited politely for my attention. I couldn't assess whether the sympathetic look on her face was genuine or rehearsed, but I didn't care; I was just happy to receive it.

"Louisa", I said, as I shook her extended hand. Her grip was faint, which rendered in me a suspicion of disingenuity toward her, but I tried to shake it off and lean my thoughts toward comfort instead.

"Come in.". She motioned me to an open door leading into an office, and I hesitated before ducking my head and entering. The consultation room has a consultation room, I thought. How unnecessarily redundant. I took a seat in a misleadingly uncomfortable feather gray chair. Its square backing accommodated my frame which, while petite, was a bit more plump than several months ago. Already I was eating too much. I blamed the pregnancy yet knew that the culprits were my nerves. Rhea sat across from me behind a large brown desk covered in papers, mismatched ornaments of various ethnicities, assumedly from her travels, a framed photograph of herself as a graduate, plastic medical anatomy that disassembles, and a glass clock. Time is more precious than that, I thought. She pulled a pen out of her desk drawer and set a form with checkboxes in front of her. What else is in that drawer? I fleetingly wondered. Rhea looked at me and put down her pen. A serious look crossed her face. I pegged her at thirty-two, as someone who works out, who has a regime, whose life is in order. She knew exactly what she would eat every day, I imagined, her car was always clean, and she went to bed on time. She had a steady group of friends, maybe even a husband, maybe a dog, perhaps even a child. Did she have a child? If she did, it was with her husband. I was certain of it. Her blouse was perfectly ironed and buttoned up to the collar. I shifted in my chair. Why did I come here? What could this perfect stranger do to un-confuse my thoughts now that they were so jumbled? I needed time. I felt rushed. “I want to thank you for taking the time to visit me today”, Rhea started. “Have you had a chance to fill out an intake form?” “I haven’t done anything”, I answered, keeping my sneakers tilted so that my feet didn’t touch the ground. “Ok, I’ll just help you through it then.” Rhea smiled as she clicked her pen. So you are Louisa—” “Baker”, I interrupted. “B-a-k-e-r, yes?” I nodded. “What is your age?” “Eighteen. Zero eight, ten, ninety-seven.” “1997”, she finished writing on the form. “Marital status?” She asked without looking up. “I’m not. I’m not married. I’m single”. I noticed a bobble head on her desk. Is that Hilary clinton? Is Hilary bobbling at me? “And how far along are you, Louisa?” Tiny pins tickled inside me for a second, like baby fingers. What was that feeling? “Nine weeks now." A tiny laugh sounded from behind the desk. “Oh,” the airy laugh managed, “you’re barely pregnant." I might have taken offence for a moment, but her smile was redeeming; it was a pretty smile. She had painted it coral to match her hair. “I guess”, I smiled back, au natural. I had nothing left to cover up.