to be at the clinic.” He paused as if the import of this would be readily understood by me. It wasn’t.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Dramatic sigh. “You don’t know?”
I didn’t give him the benefit of my own dramatic sigh. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Tom will know. Susan Clancey is notorious for performing late-term abortions. Her visit to Chicago was supposed to be kept secret for obvious reasons. If it was known she was coming to town, there would have been large demonstrations. Her presence has caused near onto pitched battles in some cities.”
“But no one here knew?”
“That’s what I said. However, what if that knowledge leaked out?”
“Are you sure about this information? Where did you hear it?”
“A source. Tell Tom when he wakes up. He’ll know it’s important.”
Myrtle Mae hung up. The image of him stuffing candy bars into his mouth at last year’s pride parade came into my mind. At the time I’d dared to comment that what he’d draped over himself for the day looked like a cheap bedsheet.He claimed it was the sheerest and most expensive silk. That day a friend of ours who cared enough to count claimed Myrtle Mae had eaten at least a dozen candy bars in less than two hours. I would take Myrtle Mae as seriously as I felt necessary, which wasn’t much.
I turned my attention back to the friends who were there and enjoyed them until nine o’clock, when they left, then I went down to the cafeteria to get some food.
13
When I awoke for the second time, I was looking out a darkened window. It was night. Dim light came from somewhere behind me. I felt much more alert. I realized I was hooked up to various devices. I deduced I was in a hospital. I was wearing a hospital gown, which after a woman’s girdle is the most singularly demeaning garment designed by man. I hadn’t owned a pair of pajamas since I was ten.
I heard distant voices. I thought I recognized Scott’s and my mother’s. They were murmuring low and were outside my line of vision.
I thought about calling out to them, but that seemed as if it would take too much energy. I had to piss, but didn’t see a bedpan. I let that idea drift off. I tried to think back to how I got here.
The last thing I remembered before waking up the first time was working in the Human Services Clinic.
I’d just had a meeting in an upstairs office with Gayle Bennet, a woman who did not like me, did not like my beingthere, and did not mind making her feelings about it obvious. Unfortunately, that particular day I was trying to get a project done for my friend Alvana Redpath, and I’d promised Alvana I’d be nice to Gayle. This was important to Alvana because she was trying to date Gayle. I kept telling Alvana that I thought Gayle was straight, but Alvana was smitten.
I’d been fuming as I came back down to the basement because Gayle had been unnecessarily rude, and I had swallowed my annoyance in deference to Alvana. I’d seldom met overt hostility at the clinic, but Gayle had said something about how stupid men could be. All I was doing was clearing up the filing and trying to make the system more efficient, so that it would serve the entire clinic more effectively.
After the meeting, Alvana and her son Alan had met me in the basement. She’d just picked him up from the day-care section of the clinic. Her four-year-old was one of the few kids under the age of ten who would put up with me. Scott is better with the little ones, and he always thinks I can’t handle any of them. Alan was a quiet child, more given to spending time alone with a set of blocks than in socializing with the other children. I empathized. I enjoyed spending time with him. He and I were playing a haphazard game of catch with a Nerf ball as Alvana and I talked. I remember crawling under a desk to retrieve an errant toss. After that, I vaguely recalled a loud noise and pain in my head, then nothing.
I rotated my neck, moved each arm and leg,
“Who is she?” I asked.
Dramatic sigh. “You don’t know?”
I didn’t give him the benefit of my own dramatic sigh. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Tom will know. Susan Clancey is notorious for performing late-term abortions. Her visit to Chicago was supposed to be kept secret for obvious reasons. If it was known she was coming to town, there would have been large demonstrations. Her presence has caused near onto pitched battles in some cities.”
“But no one here knew?”
“That’s what I said. However, what if that knowledge leaked out?”
“Are you sure about this information? Where did you hear it?”
“A source. Tell Tom when he wakes up. He’ll know it’s important.”
Myrtle Mae hung up. The image of him stuffing candy bars into his mouth at last year’s pride parade came into my mind. At the time I’d dared to comment that what he’d draped over himself for the day looked like a cheap bedsheet.He claimed it was the sheerest and most expensive silk. That day a friend of ours who cared enough to count claimed Myrtle Mae had eaten at least a dozen candy bars in less than two hours. I would take Myrtle Mae as seriously as I felt necessary, which wasn’t much.
I turned my attention back to the friends who were there and enjoyed them until nine o’clock, when they left, then I went down to the cafeteria to get some food.
13
When I awoke for the second time, I was looking out a darkened window. It was night. Dim light came from somewhere behind me. I felt much more alert. I realized I was hooked up to various devices. I deduced I was in a hospital. I was wearing a hospital gown, which after a woman’s girdle is the most singularly demeaning garment designed by man. I hadn’t owned a pair of pajamas since I was ten.
I heard distant voices. I thought I recognized Scott’s and my mother’s. They were murmuring low and were outside my line of vision.
I thought about calling out to them, but that seemed as if it would take too much energy. I had to piss, but didn’t see a bedpan. I let that idea drift off. I tried to think back to how I got here.
The last thing I remembered before waking up the first time was working in the Human Services Clinic.
I’d just had a meeting in an upstairs office with Gayle Bennet, a woman who did not like me, did not like my beingthere, and did not mind making her feelings about it obvious. Unfortunately, that particular day I was trying to get a project done for my friend Alvana Redpath, and I’d promised Alvana I’d be nice to Gayle. This was important to Alvana because she was trying to date Gayle. I kept telling Alvana that I thought Gayle was straight, but Alvana was smitten.
I’d been fuming as I came back down to the basement because Gayle had been unnecessarily rude, and I had swallowed my annoyance in deference to Alvana. I’d seldom met overt hostility at the clinic, but Gayle had said something about how stupid men could be. All I was doing was clearing up the filing and trying to make the system more efficient, so that it would serve the entire clinic more effectively.
After the meeting, Alvana and her son Alan had met me in the basement. She’d just picked him up from the day-care section of the clinic. Her four-year-old was one of the few kids under the age of ten who would put up with me. Scott is better with the little ones, and he always thinks I can’t handle any of them. Alan was a quiet child, more given to spending time alone with a set of blocks than in socializing with the other children. I empathized. I enjoyed spending time with him. He and I were playing a haphazard game of catch with a Nerf ball as Alvana and I talked. I remember crawling under a desk to retrieve an errant toss. After that, I vaguely recalled a loud noise and pain in my head, then nothing.
I rotated my neck, moved each arm and leg,
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