Stacey Levine - Dra-

A low, wide adjacent hallway caught her eye. Looking in, she saw at its center a long bank of telephones available for employees to use; opposite, behind opaque glass doors, stood the Employment Office itself. Breathing, eager, she ran to the phones, choosing one — which was difficult and took time, since all the phones looked the same — and dialed Dr. Billy’s number, an old, old number from a different era, and she wondered how such an outmoded, lengthy sequence of digits could actually create a connection. But it did; she heard the broken buzzing tones in the earpiece and decided that, if she could not be connected immediately to the doctor’s bedroom, she would leave several urgent messages with the receptionist. Trying with difficulty to recall the doctor’s kindish, looming face, she also decided to ask him, for once, just how many patients he really had, and if most of them paled in comparison to her, which she suspected they did. And with great relish, she imagined scheduling an appointment with the doctor, and also a prefatory appointment with his nurses — the latter in order to spend time chatting and catching up so she might quickly become involved with the office and all its workings.

The prospect of all this was so heartening that her ribs seemed to quiver. She did not want to wait for these things to transpire, but instead wished to soar mindlessly, as if upon a vapor, into the doctor’s dusty little set of rooms, where she would fall upon his exam table and lie still, steadying herself against the squall of curious impulses that always rose within her while the doctor examined her, trying to determine what was wrong.

Blinking, eyes casting up and down the hall, listening to the receiver’s continual ringing tones, she imagined the doctor’s glowing reassurance that she was, in fact, his most important patient, the one whom, privately, he most celebrated; and smiling, she imagined asking him some questions about his own oft-repeated bodily functions, just so she could know some detail, any detail, about him. But, she imagined, the doctor, at that juncture, would become so violently angry that he would, in effect, disappear — so she abruptly hung up the phone, staring at the faint electric glow around the stall, vaguely seeking its source.

And then she realized, taking small steps away from the telephones, that she did not really want to see Dr. Billy at all; naturally she did not want to see him, but instead the Nurse, the Employee Nurse whose job it was to care for employees everywhere. And now she knew that every thought and wish she had was suddenly flowing toward the Nurse. It was naturally the Nurse she needed, not the doctor, for the doctor knew nothing of Dra—, in the end; so in her mind she clung to the Nurse, who with her vaulting forehead and steely stare Dra— had known for quite some time, though not long enough; and knew she must call the Nurse soon and never speak to the old doctor again.

As if frightened, she hurtled back to the ill-lit, empty bank of hallway telephones and dialed the Nurse’s number, heart and limbs thrilling to the thought of the Nurse picking up the old, heavy, buzzing phone and speaking who knew what words, what blank, terse phrases; and Dra— steadied herself then, remembering that the Nurse, so frequently warm, could just as often be stern and snappish. Also worrisome was the prospect that the Nurse might never pick up the call, or that it might be answered by a lackey.

But the Nurse, with her starch-smelling uniform and sure hands, was always more available than a doctor ever was, and the Nurse’s appointment slots were far longer than any doctor’s. One could stay with the Nurse for an hour and even longer — this being proof that the Nurse was much more thorough than a doctor, for the Nurse fielded questions, waiting long, torturous moments before answering them, and it was important to remind oneself over and over, she recalled, that the Nurse might be crabby at any given time.

Not too long ago, perhaps even while finishing school, Dra— had devised various means of visiting the Nurse, taking advantage of the woman’s long appointment slots, and would wind up, for one reason and another, lingering whole afternoons and weekends in the Nurse’s office, reading pamphlets, daydreaming and the like while every hour the Nurse would look sternly through the crack in the door, to the satisfaction, it seemed, of them both. Often in those days she made such visits up to two times per week; and one week, she actually went three times. Another time, Dra— purposely skipped appointments, a tack which proved quite effective in ruffling the Nurse’s composure; in fact, she became so disturbed that she admitted, through tiny, gritted foreteeth, that she, the Nurse, had grown accustomed to Dra—’s visits and now rather missed them.

And there was no matching the sensation this remark had created, nor the overall excitement of stirring the Nurse’s sentiments in various ways. Afterward, Dra— tried often to draw such threads of sentiment from the Nurse, sometimes with subtly rich results, until one day the Nurse grew severely cross and forbade further games — this admonition in itself was gratifying — yet overall, seeing the Nurse was much more gratifying than seeing a doctor, hands down.

The phone rang on, but no one, not even a clerk, picked up the call. Finally she heard a click in the earpiece and a long, sonorous hum, which seemed to indicate something dire, she felt, such as a disaster or death, though it was possible the employees were merely eating lunch. As a matter of course, Dra— knew, the Nurse often left her site to roam pacifically, so her office was frequently under the care of substitute nurses and other coarse helpers who, Dra— knew, were wholly unfit for nursing and generally strayed badly from their tasks.

It was usually best to avoid substitutes, she reminded herself, since after all, there was no substitute for the Nurse, with her stiff, sheetlike face and well-shaped wig. It was always eminently satisfying to hover near her, waiting long hours even for a terse smile. And though substitute nurses had potential, and sometimes offered information about the Nurse herself, they were usually gruff and unfamiliar, or even male.

With these provocative thoughts in mind, Dra— quickly hung up the hallway phone, knowing very well that she did not want a substitute to pick up the dislodged call, but only the Nurse, the real Nurse; and suddenly she remembered that once, years ago, while detouring through an unfamiliar bank of offices, she had, completely by chance, glimpsed the Nurse staring gloomily through a dark window, hands on hips, wearing only a girdle.

With a pounding throat, she stepped away from the hallway telephone to take several sips of water from a small, capped metal cup which she kept in her skirt pocket and loved. She took the gritty, salty water between her lips thirstily, thoughts on nothing if not the Nurse, and the Employment Office too, for she had not yet presented herself there, though it was not at all far from where she now stood.

The ache, embedded in her back, began to move again, curving with each breath; it had gained in strength, breadth, and plausibility; and seeing that it was at its obvious height, she realized that the best course of action would naturally be to go immediately to the Nurse.

Willfully, she decided that she would like nothing better than to forget about the Employment Office and rush to the Nurse without even making an appointment. This would displease the Nurse, who did not care for unannounced visits. But in the brief and unbearable excitement of planning this visit, Dra— decided she would inform the Nurse and all surrounding staff that planned appointments were destructive and unwise, too; they were artificial, ruinous to those who had urgent needs, and that the best way of staving off emergencies was to see a nurse in an open format, at any time they wished, and oftener.