The Doctor's Wife by Luis Jaramillo Read Free Book Online Page B

Ann has the highest grades in her class now, and in eighth grade, when high school starts and there are periods with different teachers, she’ll make sure she gets the highest grades in all of those classes too. It doesn’t sound that difficult to her. All it takes is hard work and she is good at that. So it’s settled, she will be the valedictorian of both the poem memorizing contest and of her high school.
    â€œHow long does the poem have to be?” Sue Berg asks.
    â€œAt least fifteen lines.”
    Jimmy Halverson groans. This will be easier than Ann thought.
    â€œDo we have to do it?” Jimmy Halverson asks.
    â€œNo.”
    Right before the end of the school day, Mrs. Zuckerman says, “Ann please remember that you are ringing the bell tomorrow.” Of course Ann remembers.
    On the way to the bus, Cathy Gunderson yanks Ann’s hair at the back of her head. “Hey you.”
    â€œWhat?” Ann asks.
    â€œI hope you know you have blackheads on your nose.”
    â€œSo,” Ann snaps back. But she is shocked. She blinks quickly and her chin wobbles, but she is not going to show any sort of emotion.
    â€œYou don’t either have blackheads. She’s just jealous,” Sue whispers to her, looking behind at Cathy.
    Ann knows she’s been insulted, and she’d like to talk to Sue about the blackheads, but she’s embarrassed. She doesn’t actually know what blackheads are. At home, Ann examines her nose in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom. Cathy is right, there are little specks of black on the tip of her nose. Those must be the blackheads. Is it dirt? Is it a disease? What’s going to happen to Ann now? Will they spread? Ann feels the tears come. The only benefit of crying is that it blurs her vision and she can’t see her disgusting nose. Ann hates Cathy and wishes she would trip and break her wrist or that a dog would bite her or that her hair would fall out in clumps.
    â€œAnn’s crying,” Chrissy sings when Ann opens the bathroom door.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” the Doctor’s Wife asks, stubbing out her cigarette in an ashtray. She immediately rinses the ashtray under the tap, cranking closed the window over the sink.
    â€œCathy Gunderson said I had blackheads.”
    â€œWhat’s a blackhead?” Chrissy asks.
    â€œA blackhead is a clogged pore,” the Doctor’s Wife says. “Let me see.”
    She takes Ann’s face in her hands. Now Ann feels worse. She doesn’t care to be examined this closely. The Doctor’s Wife squints and Ann has a sudden quick horror about what she is going to be forced to do. The usual treatment for any sort of ailment—a splinter, a cut, a hangnail, an ingrown hair—is to soak the offending appendage in a bowl of salty water made as hot as you can stand it. Ann imagines dipping her nose in that. No thank you.
    â€œScrub it with a warm, soapy washcloth,” the Doctor’s Wife says, dropping Ann’s jaw, turning around to go up the stairs. Ann follows her mother into John’s bedroom. Scrubbing isn’t so bad. “How are you feeling darling?” the Doctor’s Wife asks John, running her hand over his forehead, behind his neck, checking his diaper in one movement.
    Doesn’t she know John can’t answer? “I need to memorize a poem.”
    â€œWhat poem?”
    â€œIt has to be at least fifteen lines.”
    â€œCan it be part of a poem?”
    â€œI guess so,” Ann says. She hadn’t thought about that.
    â€œWhat about Walt Whitman?” the Doctor’s Wife asks. She quickly changes John’s diaper, his clothes, fluffs his pillow, kisses him on the forehead. She doesn’t say anything to Ann while she’s doing this.
    â€œWho’s Walt Whitman?”
    â€œLook him up.”
    â€œWill you help me practice?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPractice my poem.”
    â€œHurry downstairs. Look