|
|
The Doctor is Out
by Vanessa Orlando Little Katie entered the world like all the others, let out one big cry and then died in mid-scream, as if she were in a movie and the audio broke. Cause of death? Dr. Melvin scratches his head. Lack of prenatal care. Dr. Melvin reads Katie’s name -- reads all their names -- on his clipboard, but he won’t use them. They are just labels that have lost their meaning, so he studies their remains closely and comes up with something more exotic. “Aurora,” he tells the dead infant, “I think you would have liked Cinderella and Snow White. Yes, I’m sure you would have.” The 35-year-old woman who comes in next has no hair and barely any flesh and lots of scars, all left by surgeons trying to head off a group of out-of-control cells that had overtaken the poor woman like an angry street mob. Cause of death? Name your favorite unchecked cancer, he mutters. They all do the same thing in the end. “Poor Avalon,” he says out loud. “We’ll have to give you a makeover before we send you on – a manicure, maybe. Something pretty to wear.” He knows she’s dead, truly he does, but he talks to her just the same. The delicate hand hanging out from the sheet is the only recognizable part of the next girl. Car crash seems likely, until he pulls off the sheet. Well, maybe a skydiver whose chute didn’t open. Either way, it was neither a peaceful exit nor a natural one. Does anyone really need to know more than that? “So tell me, Desdemona, did you jump off the overpass or were you pushed?” He waits for an answer and, after a time, he thinks he hears one. “Ah, I see. I suppose that’s understandable, isn’t it?” A fourth gurney arrives in less than two hours, and Dr. Melvin has had enough. If he can’t give his patients proper attention, then he will give them none at all. Come on, ladies,” he says, “We’re getting out of here.” He doesn’t actually take them, of course. Their bodies remain in Drawers 7A, 8A and 11C. “Avalon, grab that case in the corner would you,” he says, picking it up himself. “Let’s go to Riverside Park. I’ll drive. You help Desi buckle up, and I’m not kidding, we’re not moving until Aurora’s in the child seat. No one’s getting hurt on my watch, you hear?” He knows they’re not there. Truly, he does, but he talks to them the whole way. “I know everything that happened to all of you. I’ve never been stumped, not for long anyway.” He sighs. “There’s not much mystery in it anymore.” Large grey rocks line the banks of Riverside Park. They are smooth and tall, cliff like, and warm, even in cold weather. A person can sit on them, sun on them, sleep on them forever -- or until they’re ready to leave. “Here we are. Take out my case, will you, Avalon?” he says, removing it himself. “Now all of you, stay here. I’m going down to that grey rock.” He points. “Avalon, hold Desi’s hand, and both of you hold on to Aurora.” Dr. Melvin set up his easel and canvas on the smooth dark surface. Opened his paint pallet, flexed the bristles on his brushes. “Ladies, please,” he yells. “Try to stand still. I know it’s the worst day of your lives but that’s no reason to be uncooperative.” He knows they’re not there. Truly, he does, but he paints what he sees anyway. He paints for more than an hour before he realizes he can’t get them all in his portrait. Sure, these three can fit, but what about the others standing there? Malvina and Sierra. He can’t leave them out. They fit if he steps back, expands his range of vision; changes his perspective. He paints again and looks up again. Dominick and Marius, his first set of twins. Where have they been? Well, he can’t leave them out now. He backs up again; starts painting again. Roger and Linda, they’re still playing together after all this time. They’re stealing each other’s hats and playing hide ‘n seek. “Stop fidgeting,” he says. “We’ll get everyone in it together, I swear. Everyone. Just stand still.” Eugenia. Sally Ann. Grace. Dr. Melvin feels his foot hit loose dirt, loose rocks. One more step. Just one more step and everyone will be able to fit, and the portrait will be complete. Finished forever. Cassandra! Where have you been? Dr. Melvin shakes his head. His eyes well up. “There is always one more,” he whispers. “Always.” He can’t leave anyone out. He must take another step back or she won’t fit. He closes his eyes; hears a scream. Aurora, maybe. Or Desi. "Always one more.” |
|