Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,47

reevaluating."

"Even you, doctor?"

"Maybe not me," he said. "But some people."

"One last question, doctor – does my husband, does Billy have to know about this?"

"Not if he stays away from you, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Gillian said. "And I don't think that will be a problem."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "You know there's a lot of people who feel you must have the ideal marriage. What is it your announcer says? You know, about the reality of marriage in the crucible of modern living. Well, people listen to you and you seem to have all the answers."

"I'm so very sleepy now," she said.

"Of course, of course," he said. "I'll want to see you when you're up and around."

"Good night, doctor," she said. "Good night and thank you."

"You're a beautiful woman, Mrs. Blake."

A few days passed before Gillian felt her old self again. Still, she didn't go back for the checkup. A few weeks. A month. And then on a Thursday in February, Gillian examined herself in the full-length mirror. The reflection was smooth. She thought of that old joke – the patient died but the operation was a success; she decided the time had come.

Thursday afternoon she went to the doctor's office. This time, with the pale gray end-of-day light streaming through the windows, she was unaware of the colors clashing. And this time there was a third party, a nurse – a tiny sparrow of a woman. Gillian decided, yes, a large-mouthed small-breasted sparrow.

"Do you have an appointment with Dr. Hetterton?"

"Well, not exactly," Gillian said. "But the doctor asked me to stop in for a checkup."

"I'll have to see if the doctor can take you," the nurse said. "The name, please."

"Mrs. Brown," Gillian said.

"I'll see if he can take you," she said.

Gillian had to smile at that. If he can take you – the waiting room was conspicuously empty, and dust had gathered on the magazine rack. That nurse, she was as dreary as everything else connected with the office.

"Mrs. Brown," the doctor was saying, "yes, of course. Won't you please come right in? Is there anything wrong, anything…."

"I have this terrible aching feeling," Gillian was saying as the door closed behind them, shutting the sterile little nurse out in the sterile little antechamber.

"Where?" the doctor said.

"That's nonsense," Gillian said. "I feel fit as a fiddle. But you did say to stop by for a checkup."

"So I did, so I did," he said. "And I must say I'm glad you came. Any trouble at home? Any… complications?"

"Not a one," Gillian said. "Of course, I haven't… done anything that might be considered risky. I didn't dare."

"I'll write out a prescription for feosol," he said. "That will keep your pep up. I don't suppose there's anything else I can do?"

"Don't you even want to examine me?" Gillian said.

"After all, you're the doctor."

"I suppose I may as well," he said, "just to be on the safe side. Why don't you go into the room while I get the nurse…?"

"That won't be necessary," Gillian said. "I think I can trust you now."

When Dr. Hetterton joined Gillian in the small chamber she was standing in front of the disrobing screen. She had placed the white robe over her clothes on the small chair. Her long hair tumbled freely over her pale shoulders. Her breasts, unfettered now, seemed to defy the laws of gravity and probability. She swiveled calmly to face him; it was then she noticed the trembling in his hands.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, "in a minute…."

"Don't go," she said. "I think every artist should enjoy his handiwork…. I haven't thanked you properly, doctor. The only reason I haven't thanked you properly is that I haven't been able to thank you properly. Am I able to now?"

"Mrs. Blake, you're able to do anything now. Anything at all. You don't need me any more."

"That's where you're mistaken – can I call you Alan? That's where you're mistaken, Alan. If I can do anything at all, then I need you right now."

"But the nurse…."

"The nurse is out there," Gillian said. "She is out there two doors away and we're here."

"That nurse is my wife; she's Gerda."

"Come here, Alan."

He didn't move, and Gillian walked the three short steps to him. His arms moved slowly to hold her and she reached her hands to his neck and stroked his hair gently. Then she urged him with her hands to follow her backward to the examination table. She