A Tapless Shoulder (15 page)

My throat was
still sore, and glands swollen. It was best to have myself looked
over anyway, or so I told myself as I sat amidst coughing,
sniffling, and a whole host of other… who knew what. For an hour
and a half I took shallow breaths, held tightly to what luck I had,
and hoped it would be enough. My hands were in my lap as I sat
looking around the room, while in my head singing,
Gonna get what you got, gonna get
what you got, gonna get what you got, fuck you. Gonna get what you
got, gonna get what you got, gonna get what you got, what happened
to your face? Not gonna get what you got, not gonna get what you
got, not gonna get what you got, unless the doctor hits me with a
chair, HOLY EFFING CRAP!

The wait
hadn’t been as bad as I had expected. I had grown very tired,
physically and mentally, and now found myself being chastised by
the doctor that stood but not a foot away from me. The waiting room
apparently was not enough; I now had to go through this. Oh, how I
had had enough. She was treating me like I’d run out of cool places
to hang out and this was just last on the list
. I am so sorry, lady, for not having come here
first, did you see that guy’s face? What’s he doing here? Shouldn’t
he be at the hospital?

I began
squinting, to try to look at it that way. She grazed over the
surface of what I had said ailed me. But she seemed to have a
superiority complex or I had an inferiority one. I reckoned it to
be her as I really didn’t care or have any concerns attached
anywhere near anything we were discussing. Could the receptionist
not have forewarned me that this might be a problem?

She had made
me believe it was well without issue, maybe even routine. Certainly
I would not have held it against her had she informed me that one
of the doctor’s was, well, I don’t believe she’d have used the
word, bitch, but… mean or uncooperative, at the very least. Oh,
okay, thank you for the heads up, yes, good advice, again, thank
you, I will pretend I’m dying and that parts of me are broken
or
just plum
missing
.

The doctor
looked at me hard. I kept thinking I hadn’t done anything but seek
help from someone who I thought by occupation was supposed to do
just that. All I had done was fall ill and feel like crap as a
result. She said my throat looked a little red. That was all she
had for me. After all I had explained; all she saw was a sore
throat, that
and
someone she could rip on without
end.
What about my
glands?
I remembered. She
checked like I’d asked too much of her, and she looked at me like I
was worse than boring, then agreed they were ‘just a little
swollen,’ so nothing of interest. Tell me something, I thought, was
it possibly a virus, viral infection, or the flu. But no, I didn’t
deserve possibilities. I knew it wasn’t a cold. I shrugged, I was
tired and my head wasn’t my friend.

I was far too
tired and frustrated to continue. I shook my head, then winced and
regretted it. “Wow,” I said slowly and loudly in the middle of her
saying whatever it was she was saying in a belittling tone,
“
You
, you are a remarkable doctor and it really shows that
you are here to help and make a much-needed difference.” I nodded
and stared back hard at the confusion in her eyes.

I was pretty
sure I probably looked how I felt: tired and angry. Before she
could speak, I continued, “
It’s amazing,”
I said
as loud as I could without actually shouting, “How the more you
speak, the fewer symptoms I have. It’s as though you think I’m
either an idiot
or
I’m pretending to be sick, though,
personally, I don’t think I could be one without being the other.
And, you know, I don’t care, I’m not here to prove I was sick, I
don’t
need
you to believe me, not if it’s going
to come down to what type of people we are. I wanted you to look at
my throat and to give me a note that says I was here. I came and
saw you; that should be enough. I have your attention now, right?
So there, I sought and received medical attention, an insulting
physician with a flaring ego should still count; I’m sure. Hell,
write whatever you want on that note, draw a picture of your own
butt for all I care, that’s what I’m paying for: your signature
because it starts with doctor, and
probably
the date.
Now,
oh
, what’s wrong with your face? You look
surprised; did you really expect me to simply entertain this crap?
I mean, what, how dare I call
you
on the
condescending behaviour you’re subjecting me to, right? And
against
you
! You’re a doctor,
which we’ve established here already, but if you want, you could
remind me by writing it on a piece of paper.
All right, doctor you!
Yeah, all that information in your head,” I paused,
“Information!” I said the word again but awkwardly this time like
it had appeared in the room in the corner and didn’t belong there.
She tried to speak but I continued speaking over her, “People come
to see you for that very reason, and it suddenly appears as a small
reason, as it’s only information, granted a lot of it, that just so
happens to be useful at times, in one tiny, and yet huge, place,” I
said with my finger pointed at her head. “In fact, wait, yes,
that’s the
only
reason I’m here, that’s the only
reason any of us are here. And I believe I started this
respectfully and politely, while you, well, you tried to be
discreet,
yes, no, maybe
so
, about insulting me, but
I’m not here to take that. So, here’s something you obviously need
more of because that is not a pedestal you’re standing on:
it’s my face
, so
FUCK
YOU!
” I got up, and put my
coat on. “I’ll take the hit at work for being sick, I don’t care,
but, hey, if I can play along with others I sometimes do. You could
have humoured me
as though I
was humouring you
, if that is
what you believe, but, no, not your style, you’re too big for that
aren’t you. I tried, I tried to ride it out, you know, to let your
ego do its little dance, but forget it, enough is enough.” I paused
with my hand on the door handle, “You know what; your head isn’t
quite the accomplishment you think it is; it’s atop a truly ugly
person. You do know it’s not a miracle to remember and understand a
lot of what you read, right, because that’s all you’re doing. Hell,
I’m big enough to commend you on that, but I’m not going to; I just
told you off, I think that’d be a little weird at this point.” I
made a face that suggested it smelled awful in there.

I turned and
walked out, knowing my accuracy would easily have been well off the
mark in terms of details about doctors, of which I had none, but,
like any heated argument, it was about the point I was trying to
make. An employee of some sort stood outside the door frozen in the
middle of deciding what to do. As I passed her I said calmly, “I’m
glad I came, I feel much better.”

My head was
down as I shoved my wallet into my back pocket on my way out of the
bank. When I looked up, a friend, Charlie, was standing there
smiling at me.

“
Hey buddy,
what’s up?” he said and shook my hand.

“
Charlie
buddy, what’s going on?” I asked and smiled, “Been a while, man,
how are you?”

“
Good, good,
man, busy and shit, you know. I saw you head in; thought I’d come
over and say hello. Just picked up an ottoman Steph ordered. I
think we finally got the basement finished now for real this time.
You guys’ll have to come for a visit soon,” he paused and motioned
behind me; we moved farther from the door to be sure we weren’t in
anyone’s way.

“
Man,” he
continued with a laugh, “was just out last night with Frankie, and
we ran into your old man.”

Something
inside me twitched and I wondered if Charlie noticed.

“
Oh, yeah,” I said, aware of just how wide open life had
become, as I found myself suddenly recalling those
Choose Your Own Adventure
books. I quickly dismissed the
recollection and was back to panic mode. I tried to have a blank
expression, but was pretty sure I was wincing as though I knew he
was about to hit me.

“
Yeah… man,”
he continued, “weirdest thing,” his words were coming out longer
and slower and I was beginning to think that maybe I would have to
hit him. If it was hard enough maybe I could just walk away. It
almost felt like a good idea and then it felt like a really good
idea, maybe even great, and about the only way to change the
subject. I liked Charlie. We’d been friends for a long time, but I
just didn’t have it in me to explain the situation. Hitting him
seemed like the easiest way out. One can’t explain what they
themselves don’t understand. Just punch him, just swing, he can
understand why later, much later, conveniently later. I couldn’t
bring myself to do it though and I wondered what was happening to
allow me so much time to have considered that so well.

“
Yeah,” he started again, finally, “and your uncle,
we think
.”

“
Fuck. What do you mean,
you think
?” I asked,
deflating fast. The gloves were off, and my fists were up, but I
was slouching and already defeated. I felt like I’d suddenly lost
my identity, like Charlie’s little one-sided conversation had
stripped me of everything I knew: sense, reason, and any feeling of
any kind. Here you go: nothing but a baffling black bag of ‘What
the fuck,’ enjoy.
Maybe now
he could just hit me
, I
thought. Would that be an odd request? Tell him I didn’t care,
wasn’t any of my business, and, please, punch my
face.

“
Uh, yeah, well, dude was like dressed like a woman. He was,
like, big and, you know,
looked like your uncle
, your uncle Don.” He laughed like it was a good joke.
“They must have been going somewhere, for a party or something,
pretty weird, eh?”

I stared. I
only knew I was still standing because Charlie’s face hadn’t
floated away.

“
What?”

I didn’t have
anything else. I said it again but this time it was to the empty
space between us instead of him, as I found myself
turning.

“
What?”

Just so he
didn’t think I was saying the same thing
to him
; I
continued to turn various degrees farther away from him. I couldn’t
help myself, and continued to say, ‘What,’ like I was finding the
word everywhere.

“
What?”

It felt like
as soon as my mind had gotten away from the bundle of confusion
surrounding my dad, something like this came along to reattach all
the strings I’d thought I’d just successfully severed. I hadn’t
noticed but I’d been circling the street corner, with Charlie
hesitantly waiting almost for an opportune moment to reach in and
pull me out.

He went to
speak, but I cut him off with a, “What,” as if I was predicting I
wouldn’t understand.

I stopped and
faced him again and shook my head in case he thought I might have
something else to say. I pulled down on my bottom eyelids with both
hands, and then blinked against the dry air. “What?” It was my
favourite thing to say. I could have gone all day with what.
WHAT?

“
I take it
you don’t know what it was about either,” he said grinning. He
laughed and shook his head like he didn’t believe it himself. He
was looking at me now like it was going to come to me, like I was
going to empty the baffling black bag at his feet. I wanted to
laugh too but that reaction was in a parallel universe and just not
the reaction for me to have here and now, no matter how hard I
tried.

“
My
uncle Donnie?
Uncle Donnie: the one that looks like an entire bike gang but
without other members or bikes;
that
Uncle Donnie?”
No matter how mistaken I wanted him to be, we both knew he wasn’t.
One could not confuse that man with another. Charlie had just been
kind and added cushion to soften a very hard fact. My head went
back like he’d just tapped my forehead with the palm of his hand
and the essence of God. I opened my mouth, shut it, and then tried
again. “Honestly,” I began as though I was going to get into the
fact that I didn’t know what was going on with my dad except that
maybe he was cheating on a transsexual with my uncle, the drag
queen, something which was news to me; the cheating
and
the drag queen part, never mind the
nuclear war against the laws of nature
part. But I didn’t, I pulled up,
stopped short, it didn’t seem like a thing to blurt out on a street
corner or on a planet. “It beats me; it really beats the fuck out
of me, like it is beating me and beating me. No shit left,” I said
with a blank stare that I could tell scared him a little. “Those
old people and their crazy parties, they sure know how to whoop it
up. Ha ha,
whoop
, who the hell
even whooping talks like that.” I was laughing and had maybe even
gone insane from such strange knowledge.