Rosemarie's Revenge

It was a slightly chilly morning in the low fifties when McKenna set out for the ENT doctor’s office for her first day of work. She was told that a woman named Rosemarie would be training her. She just had no idea it would be that Rosemarie. It took her a while to realize who it was—she had never known Rosemarie’s last name. If only she could find out when her birthday was. That was one of the very few things she remembered about the hateful bitch. She was still almost a hundred percent sure that it was indeed the same Rosemarie from the apartment complex in 1990. At first, she was shocked. Sure, it was a small world, as they said, but Phoenix was a big city. People didn’t usually run into others they knew there, not even after twenty-seven years of living in the sprawling city. Dr. Simpson was in a large building that housed a medical group containing all kinds of doctors. The doctor had just returned from maternity leave. She appeared to be in her thirties and didn’t make much of an impression on McKenna either way. She wasn’t overly kind nor unfriendly and was an average-looking woman with an average personality. She quickly introduced McKenna to Rosemarie a few minutes before meeting with her first patient of the day. Rosemarie still had the same cool mannerisms and attitude McKenna remembered—indifferent to others to the point of seeming superior in some ways. McKenna tried to hide her shock. Rosemarie didn’t seem to pay much attention to her features, so McKenna didn’t think she noticed her surprise or recognized her. McKenna wasn’t a very common name, and she thought her name combined with her face might be a giveaway, but it hadn’t been. Rosemarie had aged well, McKenna could give her that much. She looked like a slightly older and slightly heavier version of her younger self. McKenna couldn’t help but wonder if she was just as hateful. McKenna’s first instinct was to say something, but she didn’t want to with the doctor around. Once she’d had time to reflect, she realized it wouldn’t look good to start a new job by causing conflict. So as long as Rosemarie didn’t know who she was, she wouldn’t say anything—at least not right away. She took a seat next to Rosemarie to learn how to use the software for scheduling and making reminder calls. At one point, Rosemarie looked directly into her eyes, and McKenna had to resist the urge to look away so she wouldn’t figure out who she was. Rosemarie’s dark brown eyes appeared almost empty and cold. Her tone came off as annoyed, bordering on snotty. McKenna could tell she wasn’t thrilled about training a newbie. Rosemarie spoke in a mechanical voice that sometimes became tinged with impatience if McKenna didn’t get something right the first time. It was clear she struggled to appear patient and professional. McKenna wondered if the woman was capable of genuine empathy or sympathy.