Dr. Belliveau's Dream Job Chapter 2 [Fiction-Humour]
CHAPTER 2
On Friday, Dr. Belliveau arrived earlier than usual to change the out-of-office message on Stacey’s phone. He wanted everyone to know that he, and he alone, was managing the office that day.
How do I do this? He wondered, rifling through papers and absently hitting keys on the keyboard as if the instructions would appear automatically. He sighed. Glanced at his watch. Two hours until his first appointment came.
This office smells weird, he thought. And then he remembered it usually smelled like freshly brewed coffee, the kind Stacey kept on her desk. She drank two black coffees in the morning and one at around 3 p.m.
Dr. Belliveau scratched and then smoothed his jet black eyebrows down. Anxiety stewed in his gut. How does she do it all? he wondered. Coffee, messages, passwords, filing, photocopying, and placing a person on hold while she took another call. Astounding, he murmured to himself.
Unable to figure out how to change the out-of-office phone message, Dr. Belliveau stood and went to the Nespresso machine. It had its own desk, a small elementary school desk made with particleboard and metal.
He rummaged through the assortment of pods, baffled by the colors, sizes, and names. Which one do I like? he wondered. Stacey knew. She always made him one, but he’d never asked which one it was. He didn’t realize there were so many options.
He held a teal blue pod in his left hand and a golden yellow pod in his right. Is it Melozio or Costa Rica? he wondered. After a few minutes of deliberation, he chose Costa Rica because he’d vacationed there once. He didn’t know what a Melozio was, but it sounded familiar and unpleasant.
Then he remembered….Melasma! A skin condition that causes brown patches on the face.
Definitely don’t want that! The doctor mused.
BING BONG BING BONG
The doctor whirled around, hot coffee in hand. Had two hours already passed? He wondered. He glanced at his watch and then looked up at the young woman at the counter.
May I help you? He asked, suddenly realizing he should be at his desk (STACEY’S DESK). He lunged for the office chair, pulled it out, and plunked himself down, smiling.
I have an appointment this morning, the young woman said.
Yes, yes, I see, Dr. Belliveau said, glancing down at last week’s appointment list.
Greta, correct?
It’s June, the young woman corrected him.
JUNE. June? Dr. Belliveau scanned the desk for Stacey’s calendar.
You have an appointment in June?
No, my NAME is June.
Uh huh, yes. Right right right. Yes! June! Dr. Belliveau exclaimed and made a show out of marking a huge checkmark next to Greta’s name.
Please have a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly.
Suddenly, the doctor was overcome with a feeling of dread. Deja vu. It was almost as if he’d heard that phrase before somewhere. “Take a seat please.”
Then he realized he was, in fact, the doctor she was expecting to see. The doctor’s anxiety peaked. His palms became damp with sweat. What to do. What to do.
Then he stood up abruptly, grabbed his coffee, and confidently walked around Stacey’s desk, past the patient named June, and went into his office. He closed the door behind himself, took a deep breath, and then opened the door again, peering out so that only his eyes and bushy black eyebrows showed.
Next! he shouted, startling June. She looked over at the set of eyebrows and eyes peering at her, bewildered. Me? she motioned with her thumb to her chest.
Yes yes, June isn’t it?
June nodded, still unsure of what was happening, and followed him into the office.
So what brings you here today? he asked.
June slid her purse from her shoulder to her lap and rifled through it, pushing aside two tampons, a NARS blusher, a pack of gum, her driver’s license, loose pre-sucked candies, a rag, plastic gloves, and a small bottle of chloroform.
This, she said, and unraveled a tightly balled piece of paper. It’s for work, she said. I need your signature for HR so that I can take sick leave.
The doctor was so overwhelmed with relief that he signed the paper without reading it or asking any questions about exactly why she needed the sick leave.
Fuck yeah, June mumbled under her breath, taking the signed paper from Dr. Belliveau’s outstretched hand. And why is he smiling like that? she wondered.
Is that everything? he asked.
Yuppers, June said, holding back a laugh. She couldn’t believe how easy that was. He hadn’t even asked why! Now she could fake an illness so that she could go on a three-week vacay with her new boyfriend. And with the three items her boyfriend had asked her to pick up (gloves, rag, and a bottle of chloroform), she left the office breathing a sigh of relief.
Stay tuned for Chapter 3 when Dr. Belliveau accidentally finds himself on the dark web, and not just the dark web, the DARKEST of the web.
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