My He[Art] Story

The receptionists were whispering back and forth about what their plans were for the weekend, and somehow the conversation turned into how the younger one met some Puerto Ricans at a club the week before...and they talked funny Spanish. I kept my eyes glued to empty spot on the wall in front of me, but couldn't help smiling at that last remark. "I didn't even think they were Puerto Rican, they looked black! Did you know Puerto Ricans look like black people??", she continued telling her co-worker. I looked down and suppressed a sigh, with a grin on my face...wanting to walk up to the desk and mumble "Yeah, and we look white, too. We're eeeeverrryyywheeereeee."

Just then, I heard: "Yar...it...za?" being carefully called out by a guy standing at the end of the hall. Slowly, I made my way to his side, where he stood in his black scrubs and brand new tennis shoes. He shook my hand, and told me to follow him to this room that smelled too sterilized for my comfort. After the initial triage, and the 'cool hat' comment towards the end, my new friend John gave me a run down of how the stress testing and other testing were going to go down. I nodded, and offered an 'ok' where I thought it was needed while looking down at my shoes. He paused and asked if I was sure I was ok, to which I just gave a weak smile. He handed me a gown and asked me to let him know when I was ready, and that he'd take good care of my t-shirt and guitar pick necklace.

A few minutes later, I was laying on my back and he adjusted his glasses as he softly gave me a run down of what would happen next. He kept apologizing for how cold the alcohol pads where he was cleaning my chest and stomach with, and as he prepared the area around my collar bone he made a little double take and said "Hey, that's a tattoo!" I laughed nervously and said "It's okay to rub alcohol on it, it won't come off. Go at it." He let out a small cackle and shook his head. He quietly kept prepping my torso with really, really cold little echocardiogram stickers...then cleared his throat "So...music? The tattoo? The pick necklace?" and looked up at my face. I told him I liked playing guitar and well, loved music in general. It was a big part of my life. He smiled and said "Real guitar or Rock Band?" I answered, "You're already putting cold goo on my chest as I'm uncomfortable being fondled by a stranger...and you're finding new ways to make me dislike you?" He laughed and apologized some more.

He goes to the treadmill and looks over at me saying "Alright Rockstar, hop on. Also, are you from around here?", he asks as he looks over my chart one more time...I whisper back "Nope. Moved here 7 years ago." "Where from?" "Pennsylvania..." "What?! Pennsylvania? Are you from there?!" "Nope. Puerto Rico." "Holy hell you're Puerto Rican?" "Yes." "Talk Spanish to me!" "No." "Oh come on! I need to hear it. I need the accent. Say anything!" "Anything." "Don't be a smartass, Rockstar. Come on. Dime algo en español!" *sigh* "¿Que te parece si empezamos este examen y dejamos las pendejaces pa despues?" "Oh wow that was awesome!" "I just told you to get this test over with already and we can chit chat later." He laughed and started the treadmill as a second tech walks in.

The old lady walks in and immediately comments on my tattoo, showing me her faded one with a few notes on it too. I nervously pull my gown up, keeping up with the treadmill and tell her I got mine recently in Marfa. She goes off on how she loves the whole art scene in Marfa. "Not just the fancy painting kind, either"...she goes on..."But the poetry, they work textiles, music...so much life in such a little place". I tell her I'd love to move somewhere like that...or San Antonio. Where I can really dive into different scenes of what makes me happy. Writing, poetry, painting, jewelry making, photography, music...oh the music. I feel myself rambling as John interrupts, "You do all that? Really? Do you have stuff I can read? Paintings I can see?" "Well no...not really." "Liar. Show me." "No." "Come on...you're Puerto Rican. A musician. A writer. God knows all that other stuff you said. You're an artist stuck in Odessa!" *sigh* "Wait she's Puerto Rican?!" "Yeah born and raised there, Glenda!" "What on earth are you doing in Odessa, girl?" *sigh*

The doctor walks in, cranks up the treadmill and asks "Who's Puerto Rican?" "She is! And she plays guitar and writes and takes pictures!" "What are you doing in Odessa, Yaritza?" *siiiiigh* "I got married to someone from Presidio, so I moved here. Been here ever since." John says "I dated someone from Presidio once. What a horrible place." Glenda says, "Presidio? There's nothing there but sand and a Stop sign!" The Doctor says, "Presidio...from Puerto Rico. You got the bad end of a deal, young lady." I take a deep breath and with a big smile ask, "Can we drop the subject guys? You all really are putting in a great mood for our first date. Really. I'm wooed by you all." They all laugh and leave the room one by one...

John stops the treadmill after I signaled that I was done. He laid me on the bed and jabbed stuff around my chest and under my left breast trying to get a picture of my heart. He said "I'm sorry if this hurts, I'll be quick." I said "That's what he said..." and he just gives me a look that was between disbelief and trying hard to not laugh as he was doing a procedure. "Do you always have to make a joke, Yaritza?" "Yari. And yeah, this is already awkward. I might as well lighten up the mood." "That's true. Where do you work?" "Hospital. IT." "A nerd too?! Do you wanna hang out sometime? Grab lunch at the hospital?" "Eh...heh. I'm kinda busy all the time." "You blowing me off, Rockstar?" "I'm taken, heart boy." "You're too smart for your own good." "That's what my momma always said." "Ok, get dressed. It was nice meeting you, and I hope I'll see around soon!" "Wait...like you hope I have heart disease and I have to come here often?" "No no no! Stop twisting my words! I meant like...around. Not here. God. You're a pain." "Nice meeting you too, John." "Bye, Yari."

I strolled out of there and he walked me to the front desk, giving me half a hug.

I looked at the art on the walls. It was pretty. Marfa pretty. My heart felt good.