“Is this your teddy bear?” the woman asked sweetly.
Aspirin flinched as if something flew over his head—he recalled Irina asking the same question in a similar situation. But Irina had come right over, Irina wasn’t afraid of anything; she had to help a sick child, and she, unlike the uniformed woman, had no ulterior motives for asking that question.
Apropos of nothing he thought of how infinitely loving Irina was in bed. Thinking of the scent of her skin made his nostrils flare. His fingertips remembered her breasts—like a pianist remembering a melody; meanwhile, the uniformed woman beckoned Alyona to come closer: “Let’s take a look at your stitches.”
Alyona hesitated for a moment, then went over, leaving Mishutka on the sofa.
The woman examined the stitches on Alyona’s head, nodded, murmuring something unintelligible, asked to see Alyona’s throat, and listened to her lungs.
“You are not afraid of shots, are you?” she asked cheerfully.
Alyona raised an eyebrow. Aspirin stood very close to the woman as she rummaged through her doctor’s bag; for a second their eyes met and the fingers of Aspirin’s hands went numb with fear and revulsion.
“Why do I need a shot?” Alyona asked innocently.
“It won’t hurt at all, it will just pinch for a second,” the woman chirped, filling up a syringe. “Your stitches are not healing all that well, and there is a chance of infection. But I have this wonderful Swiss medication—a quick injection, and by tomorrow you will forget anything ever hurt.”
“It doesn’t hurt right now,” Alyona informed her. “And the surgeon at the clinic told me my wound was healing perfectly, didn’t he, Daddy?”
She stared into Aspirin’s eyes; this was the first time she’d ever called him Daddy. It was a signal, perhaps a threat, perhaps a reproach, or maybe it was a cry for help. Standing in the middle of the room, Aspirin had no idea what to do. Was he supposed to pick a physical fight with this woman?
“At the clinic,” the woman said with contempt, “they simply didn’t have this medication—it wasn’t even delivered until yesterday. Are you really that scared? It doesn’t hurt at all.”
Alyona looked from Aspirin to the doctor and back.
“Excuse me,” Aspirin said hoarsely. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Can this wait?” the uniformed woman asked with a hint of aggravation. “I have the syringe ready to go.”
“And we’re not going anywhere. I would like to hear a little more about this medication,” Aspirin said. “Alyona has allergies to certain drugs.”
“Really? Well, not this one. This medication does not cause allergies.”
“May I see the label?”
Now visibly annoyed, the woman stared at him. “Are you a medical professional? What is the point of arguing?”
“I don’t need any shots,” Alyona said. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
The woman threw a quick glance at Aspirin. He shrugged as if saying—not much I can do here. The woman’s eyes measured the space between her and Alyona. The syringe twitched in her hand like a stinger.
Aspirin held his breath.
Several things happened at once. The woman threw herself on Alyona like a cobra, Aspirin rushed to stop the hand with the syringe, the upstairs neighbors turned on their stereo system, and a low growl spread across the room like distant thunder.
The woman shook Aspirin off and jumped over to the door. Alyona sat on the sofa, her teddy bear pressed to her chest; Mishutka’s button eyes stared directly at the doctor and no one else. Aspirin would have sworn on his right arm that that was the case.
The bass of the neighbors’ stereo made the wall shake and the chandelier sway back and forth. The doctor breathed heavily. Aspirin imagined Mishutka leaping out of Alyona’s arms and growing, becoming gigantic right in front of their eyes, his claws at the ready. He imagined sprays of blood marring the ceiling, the blue uniform turning brown, skin hanging in shreds, and the screams stopping abruptly . . .
The doctor caught his eye. Behind the walls, the stereo hummed—just like distant thunder. The doctor looked from Aspirin to Mishutka, then to Alyona . . .
She was in such a hurry to leave she almost forgot her bag.
“So you have been planning to hand me over.”
Seemingly unaffected, Alyona had been sliding the rosin over the bow. Aspirin paced around the room, his hands shaking, his fingers still numb. He looked at her as if she hadn’t just seen him defend her.