has never seen anything that comes this close to turning her professionally strong stomach. Leslie notes the quiver of the doctor’s throat as she swallows her shock, and her light brown eyes widen behind her thick tinted lenses. She reaches for a chair and drags it toward her and sits, heavily, releasing a sigh.
“Are you being treated for endometriosis?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, sometimes the treatment can lead to a certain amount of unwanted hair. How about weight loss? Have you lost a great deal of weight lately?”
“Are you even looking at me? I’m pregnant. I’m gaining weight.”
“Okay. I’m just ruling out the normal causes.”
“Normal? Does any of this look normal?”
“So… you’re pregnant,” Dr. Ryan says, glancing down at Leslie’s new-patient questionnaire on her clipboard. “That’s very exciting. You do know that a certain amount of hair growth often accompanies pregnancies.”
“This is not a certain amount, ” Leslie says. She tells herself to calm down, but rage boils within her.
“The important thing is to try and enjoy your pregnancy,” the doctor says. “It’s a very special time in a woman’s life.”
“I can’t live like this. I have a job, I’m in public. This is not doable.”
“If your insurance covers laser hair removal, we can do that for you right here. And if not, we can direct you to a couple of reliable places where it can be done nonmedically.”
Something catches Dr. Ryan’s attention—the light has touched the hair above Leslie’s upper lip in such a way that it makes it seem thicker than before. Curious in some horrible, childish manner, Ryan steps closer to Leslie and then, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, looking like a kid about to turn over a rock to see what vile squiggly things might be beneath it, she pokes at Leslie’s mustache with one finger.
And with lightning speed, like a beast in the wild and with no more premeditation than an apple falling from a tree, Leslie sinks her teeth into the doctor’s finger. The doctor screams in pain and terror, grabs her right pointer with her left hand.
Leslie is standing now, unperturbed by the doctor’s howls of pain. She feints a move toward Ryan, causing the doctor to cower in fear. She places her hands on Ryan’s shoulders and shoves the doctor so hard against the wall that the glass cabinet attached to it comes loose and crashes to the floor.
Dr. Ryan is temporarily out of commission, but Leslie hears the sound of rushing footsteps, and she bolts down the gray-carpeted corridor, into the waiting room, and bursts through the doors leading to the common hallway on the fifth floor. No time to wait for the elevator; she takes the stairway. She hasn’t had any real exercise in years but she finds it surprisingly easy and even pleasant to be running. There’s a spring in her step, but what is stranger than that, and more disturbing, is there is a quietly humming joy in her heart. It’s the first moment of real happiness she has had since taking Alex’s hand on the plane back from Slovenia. Her thought back then was I’m pregnant; now what fills her heart with wild music is another thought: Get out of my way!
Shortly after Leslie returns home, the police arrive to place her under arrest. On the ride to the station, she contacts Alex and calls their lawyer, Arthur Glassman, and because of Glassman’s efficiency and Leslie’s lack of prior arrests, he is able to quickly post a minimal bail and get her out of there.
They get back home about seven. Glassman is full of bluster and pride about having gotten Leslie released so quickly. Leslie pours drinks for the men and sparkling water for herself and they sit in the front parlor listening to the rattling-beads sound of rain against the window and the whoosh of traffic below.
After finishing half her drink, Leslie excuses herself and says she must take a hot shower to get the stinky putrid smell of the lockup off.
“Oh
“Are you being treated for endometriosis?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, sometimes the treatment can lead to a certain amount of unwanted hair. How about weight loss? Have you lost a great deal of weight lately?”
“Are you even looking at me? I’m pregnant. I’m gaining weight.”
“Okay. I’m just ruling out the normal causes.”
“Normal? Does any of this look normal?”
“So… you’re pregnant,” Dr. Ryan says, glancing down at Leslie’s new-patient questionnaire on her clipboard. “That’s very exciting. You do know that a certain amount of hair growth often accompanies pregnancies.”
“This is not a certain amount, ” Leslie says. She tells herself to calm down, but rage boils within her.
“The important thing is to try and enjoy your pregnancy,” the doctor says. “It’s a very special time in a woman’s life.”
“I can’t live like this. I have a job, I’m in public. This is not doable.”
“If your insurance covers laser hair removal, we can do that for you right here. And if not, we can direct you to a couple of reliable places where it can be done nonmedically.”
Something catches Dr. Ryan’s attention—the light has touched the hair above Leslie’s upper lip in such a way that it makes it seem thicker than before. Curious in some horrible, childish manner, Ryan steps closer to Leslie and then, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, looking like a kid about to turn over a rock to see what vile squiggly things might be beneath it, she pokes at Leslie’s mustache with one finger.
And with lightning speed, like a beast in the wild and with no more premeditation than an apple falling from a tree, Leslie sinks her teeth into the doctor’s finger. The doctor screams in pain and terror, grabs her right pointer with her left hand.
Leslie is standing now, unperturbed by the doctor’s howls of pain. She feints a move toward Ryan, causing the doctor to cower in fear. She places her hands on Ryan’s shoulders and shoves the doctor so hard against the wall that the glass cabinet attached to it comes loose and crashes to the floor.
Dr. Ryan is temporarily out of commission, but Leslie hears the sound of rushing footsteps, and she bolts down the gray-carpeted corridor, into the waiting room, and bursts through the doors leading to the common hallway on the fifth floor. No time to wait for the elevator; she takes the stairway. She hasn’t had any real exercise in years but she finds it surprisingly easy and even pleasant to be running. There’s a spring in her step, but what is stranger than that, and more disturbing, is there is a quietly humming joy in her heart. It’s the first moment of real happiness she has had since taking Alex’s hand on the plane back from Slovenia. Her thought back then was I’m pregnant; now what fills her heart with wild music is another thought: Get out of my way!
Shortly after Leslie returns home, the police arrive to place her under arrest. On the ride to the station, she contacts Alex and calls their lawyer, Arthur Glassman, and because of Glassman’s efficiency and Leslie’s lack of prior arrests, he is able to quickly post a minimal bail and get her out of there.
They get back home about seven. Glassman is full of bluster and pride about having gotten Leslie released so quickly. Leslie pours drinks for the men and sparkling water for herself and they sit in the front parlor listening to the rattling-beads sound of rain against the window and the whoosh of traffic below.
After finishing half her drink, Leslie excuses herself and says she must take a hot shower to get the stinky putrid smell of the lockup off.
“Oh
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