Stacey Levine - Dra-

A gale of dizziness arose within Dra—, and then she realized, as if with a thump to the chest, that she did know Nanny, after all; that, though it was now unimaginable, she and Nanny once had known each other well; Nanny had been her teacher, no less; and she remembered the nervous hands, the fixing watery eyes, the high noise in the throat, all of which were Nanny, only Nanny. Stunned with this realization, eyes tearing, Dra— reached forward to chastely pat Nanny’s bone-thin arm while gaping all the while in amazement at her. This was the woman to whom she had clung close during unending years of school so long ago, years when the other students had raged and torn around endlessly, calling for an end to just about everything in life while shaming Nanny, who had screamed back at them in wordless despair as night melded into day again and again until finally they, the students, abandoned Nanny en masse just for the pleasure of it, knowing that she was too weak to stop them. And throughout, Dra— had stared from the back of the classroom at Nanny, who with her tiny cries had sent Dra— into a frozen dream.

Once, Nanny had carried Dra—’s heavy books through the hallways with one bluish, straining arm; she had carried them as a favor, fingers spread wide beneath the stack; though extremely small, Nanny had lifted the books easily and with great calm, a gesture that had caused Dra— to flood inside with an unendurable sweetness so close to illness that she in fact sat sickened all that day, bent, limbs apart, daydreaming fitfully of Nanny’s high, stark forehead and thinly vibrating voice. Meanwhile the other students stormed through the school, their faces dark-red — the area had never been intended as a school, in fact, but rather as a furnace — screaming excitedly, involved in all sorts of intricate battles that were not games; she also remembered mornings of utter darkness when she had waited for the little teacher to arrive and unlock the door to the school room. Several times, Nanny had beckoned to her from across the classroom, and just once, Nanny had beckoned in order to reach out slowly and zip up Dra—’s uniform, for strangely, the zipper had been fully undone, with Dra—’s back and sides entirely exposed, though it was hard to imagine why. Nanny was also a mother.

And Nanny, once so robust and energetic, once bearing such full, chestnut-colored hair, was now wizened and agitated beyond recognition, almost, and also, bald, except for the pale-reddish strands that lay smoothed against her right temple like baby’s hair. Fearful, gazing at Nanny, Dra— asked as suddenly as a reflex: “Are you ill?”

“Of course I’m ill,” Nanny snapped, legs sticklike, apart, continuing, “partly because of you. I haven’t forgotten you, and the way you conceal your thoughts! You were always horribly quiet, to the point that it was sheer manipulation! I say it’s high time we talk about the feelings.”

And Dra—, hand at her throat, aghast, said only, “What feelings?” to which the Lecturer standing a few feet away gave a great horse laugh, and the rest of the students laughed as well.

Ashamed, not knowing which feelings Nanny meant, while vaguely suspecting the dreadful worst, which itself she did not quite know, Dra— stood disbelievingly in silence.

Nanny burst forth, waving one hand, “You, just being who you are, were always horrible for my health! Do you know you might have killed me back then? Why should I submit to that? I’m the sort who gets everything off her chest and holds nothing back — did you know that about me? When I need to air my feelings, I do so, and if you can’t do it too, then that’s your misery, lady. Until you are able to do it, you aren’t a whole person and even past the age of thirty-five you’re still considered a baby unless you can talk like a grown-up!” Nanny gasped for breath.

“This is all quite nice,” the Lecturer broke in, “but we don’t have time for such talk — I have a training to give!”

“Unreleased feelings are agony, and agony is hell,” Nanny blustered on, addressing everyone; “haven’t I paid enough to learn that? Oh, don’t pretend; we all know because we’re educated, just like any other piece of educated charnel! The world is ugly and distorted till the moment we release our rage — and we all have rage, my dear!” She rolled her eyes broadly, clutching her hands together, then pointed to Dra—. “I know all about you and your problems. You never could take even the smallest bit of criticism.”

“But I was just a schoolgirl then,” Dra— protested.

“Exactly!” Nanny cried; “that’s the point — you’ve been this way all your life, from then until now! Wandering around like the victim of the whole world, trying to get sympathy, your woes written all across your face like a silly equation! Listen: you’ve got to take responsibility for your feelings and air them!”

Mutely, Dra— sought the Lecturer’s face.

“Just put embarrassment aside and speak,” ’ he said to her. “Perhaps she’s right. Besides, you see that she is an extremely sick woman; let her have her way. Of course, how many employees are just as sick as she, or even a tiny bit sicker? Scads! But then again, look at her closely — she may actually be somewhat sicker than they are.”

Exhaling fearfully, Dra— asked, “What kind of sickness do you mean?”

“What the hell kind of sickness do you think I mean?” the Lecturer sneered. He looked around, considering, then addressed the group: “Most of you already know that this disease is an inevitable part of life’s biology. More philosophically, you might just say that we all must suffer and die.”

Russ, the student, called out, “That’s not true! I don’t think we have to suffer.”

“Oh? Why not, Russ?”

“Well, I learned about the problem of suffering when I was a young man,” Russ answered slowly, breathlessly, a faint whistle in his speech. “Only a certain category of people suffers badly. For the rest of us, life can be fairly easy. But people like you just try to make it hard!”

Nanny groaned, attempting to speak.

“Let me finish,” said Russ. “All suffering will vanish, I know it will, if we just, you know — believe in bigger things!”

“Russ, Russ,” the Lecturer said. “Believing is only in the mind! Think outside the mind — think about the world. Then you might understand.”

“What?” cried Russ. “What do you mean, ‘Outside the mind?’ I will not go outside the mind!” His eyes teared.

“You are being a little baby,” the Lecturer said. “The world is just too big for you to grasp. Relax, won’t you? Don’t think about it. When you begin your job, you’re going to feel much better all around,” he grinned.

“I’m leaving! If this is job training, I’ll eat my shoes.”

“It is job training,” the Lecturer smiled; “and I think it’s interesting, Russ, that you say life is easy, yet you aren’t willing to stay here with us when you find things get a bit unpleasant!” He chuckled. “Oh, never mind, Russ. Come here.” He stretched out an arm. “Come with me.” He said softly, “I actually know some questions that are much more important than anything you’re talking about, Russ, though the answer to each of them is ‘No.’ Can we be close to others whenever we like? When we don’t like what other people are doing to us, can we really make them stop? And when we feel uncomfortable, are we actually able to recognize it?”

“Quiet!” Nanny cried. “That is not what we are discussing! I’ve got only one thing on my mind, and it’s this girl: she needs to come forth and express herself. I am amazed that you don’t see that! Haven’t I done the same? It’s about time we heard about the feelings …”