stripping the years from her face. Who wouldn’t be anxious?
Anna didn’t sleep well. Her skin was tight and literally cracking; she was comfortable only on her back. When she dozed, she dreamed her face had turned into a chicken’s, complete with beak; she pecked futilely and then realized Anna the chicken was pecking at the face of a young Anna, each tap of the beak making that face older.
At six o’clock, she gave up. No workout today, to enable her to stay “relaxed” for her procedure. After showering, she put on the most comfortable of the few clothes she’d brought, sweatpants and a shirt. Then she sat and waited, without even bread and water because she’d be getting light twilight sedation for the procedure.
Aleksei, in his usual chat-free zone, drove along back roads still shrouded in fog. When after about twenty minutes, they reached a road construction barricade and a “Diversion” sign and she saw Aleksei bang his hand on the steering wheel, she almost grinned at his showing human emotion. He pulled off the road to make a call on his cell phone, then turned the car and followed the detour sign. Anna had no idea where they were or how far they’d gone. She saw a signpost saying “Dibden Village, 10k,” then just hedgerows and fields skimming by until Aleksei turned sharply into the back driveway of a small, institutional-looking building.
The way the chauffeur stood by the car watching her as she walked to the back door and rang the bell irked Anna. Did he think she was going to run off? A plain, middle-aged woman wearing a nurse’s white tunic and pants let her in. “Hello, Lisa,” she said. “I’m Marianne. Come with me, please.”
Anna followed her down a hospital-green hallway to a small elevator. They went up a floor, then down another hallway, through a miniature operating room, and into a changing cubicle with a metal chair in it. “Take off everything but your knickers and socks, and put on the gown in that plastic wrap along with the paper shower cap and slippers on the counter there. I’ll be back in five minutes. Okay?”
Just minutes later, Anna was flat on her back on the surgical table in the other room, an IV needle in her arm. Marianne loomed over her to peer at her skin appraisingly. “The retinol did a good job. I’ve started the IV drip, so you’ll be in dreamland in no time at all. Now you’re going to feel a little chill.” Anna smelled nail polish remover and felt something cold on her face. “This is just acetone, to remove all the oil from your skin,” Marianne explained, swabbing down her face and neck—scrubbing it, really—with gauze pads. “And then all you’re going to . . .”
“Lisa, can you hear me? Time to wake up.” Marianne was gently shaking her shoulder.
“When’s the doctor coming?” she mumbled.
“Oh, he’s been and gone. All done! Now, don’t touch your face, okay? Just for today, he’s put bandages on to make the creams absorb faster, so don’t be scared when you see a mummy in the mirror. Don’t worry about your hands and arms. No laser there. Just some dermabrasion, and you’ll have extra cream on them today but no bandages. I’m coming back with you to your house. In the morning, I’ll show you how to use the treatments.”
“My house? Oh, oh, yeah, the house. You’re going to stay? Maybe we can watch a DVD later . . . Can I have a drink of water now?” Woozily, she tried to move, but Marianne’s firm hand stopped her.
“Just relax for a few minutes. I’m going to strap on this oxygen mask, okay? It will clear your head so you’ll be able to get up and not feel dizzy or have a headache. Okay?”
Anna nodded, thinking how strange it would be to be a nurse and have to keep adding “okay?” at the end of everything you said. She wondered if she’d ever see the doctor, whoever he or she was. Secrets, she thought. So many secrets, and I don’t even know which ones I need to keep . Then she was asleep.
By
Anna didn’t sleep well. Her skin was tight and literally cracking; she was comfortable only on her back. When she dozed, she dreamed her face had turned into a chicken’s, complete with beak; she pecked futilely and then realized Anna the chicken was pecking at the face of a young Anna, each tap of the beak making that face older.
At six o’clock, she gave up. No workout today, to enable her to stay “relaxed” for her procedure. After showering, she put on the most comfortable of the few clothes she’d brought, sweatpants and a shirt. Then she sat and waited, without even bread and water because she’d be getting light twilight sedation for the procedure.
Aleksei, in his usual chat-free zone, drove along back roads still shrouded in fog. When after about twenty minutes, they reached a road construction barricade and a “Diversion” sign and she saw Aleksei bang his hand on the steering wheel, she almost grinned at his showing human emotion. He pulled off the road to make a call on his cell phone, then turned the car and followed the detour sign. Anna had no idea where they were or how far they’d gone. She saw a signpost saying “Dibden Village, 10k,” then just hedgerows and fields skimming by until Aleksei turned sharply into the back driveway of a small, institutional-looking building.
The way the chauffeur stood by the car watching her as she walked to the back door and rang the bell irked Anna. Did he think she was going to run off? A plain, middle-aged woman wearing a nurse’s white tunic and pants let her in. “Hello, Lisa,” she said. “I’m Marianne. Come with me, please.”
Anna followed her down a hospital-green hallway to a small elevator. They went up a floor, then down another hallway, through a miniature operating room, and into a changing cubicle with a metal chair in it. “Take off everything but your knickers and socks, and put on the gown in that plastic wrap along with the paper shower cap and slippers on the counter there. I’ll be back in five minutes. Okay?”
Just minutes later, Anna was flat on her back on the surgical table in the other room, an IV needle in her arm. Marianne loomed over her to peer at her skin appraisingly. “The retinol did a good job. I’ve started the IV drip, so you’ll be in dreamland in no time at all. Now you’re going to feel a little chill.” Anna smelled nail polish remover and felt something cold on her face. “This is just acetone, to remove all the oil from your skin,” Marianne explained, swabbing down her face and neck—scrubbing it, really—with gauze pads. “And then all you’re going to . . .”
“Lisa, can you hear me? Time to wake up.” Marianne was gently shaking her shoulder.
“When’s the doctor coming?” she mumbled.
“Oh, he’s been and gone. All done! Now, don’t touch your face, okay? Just for today, he’s put bandages on to make the creams absorb faster, so don’t be scared when you see a mummy in the mirror. Don’t worry about your hands and arms. No laser there. Just some dermabrasion, and you’ll have extra cream on them today but no bandages. I’m coming back with you to your house. In the morning, I’ll show you how to use the treatments.”
“My house? Oh, oh, yeah, the house. You’re going to stay? Maybe we can watch a DVD later . . . Can I have a drink of water now?” Woozily, she tried to move, but Marianne’s firm hand stopped her.
“Just relax for a few minutes. I’m going to strap on this oxygen mask, okay? It will clear your head so you’ll be able to get up and not feel dizzy or have a headache. Okay?”
Anna nodded, thinking how strange it would be to be a nurse and have to keep adding “okay?” at the end of everything you said. She wondered if she’d ever see the doctor, whoever he or she was. Secrets, she thought. So many secrets, and I don’t even know which ones I need to keep . Then she was asleep.
By
Similar Books
In the Court of the Yellow King
Tim Curran, Cody Goodfellow, Gary McMahon, C.J. Henderson, William Meikle, T.E. Grau, Laurel Halbany, Christine Morgan, Edward Morris
