Кевин Уилсон - Nothing to See Here

“No,” Bessie admitted. “I just want to know if he kept it.”

They seemed tired now, and so we went downstairs to the kitchen and Mary let us have bread pudding, which really had a kick of whiskey to it, but I let the kids have it anyway. We sat there, the three of us eating this sweet thing, Mary watching us, tolerating us. When I finished my bowl, without thinking, I dipped my finger in the glaze that had accumulated and Roland licked it right off my finger, ravenous. “Quite a sight,” Mary finally said, and I felt like maybe she was sincere, that we were something to behold.

One morning, Carl showed up at the door. “We need to take the kids to the doctor,” he said, and I knew that he had practiced how he would say this and had decided that a direct statement, like it wasn’t up for debate, was the best way to proceed. I imagined him saying it to his reflection in the mirror.

“Why?” I asked.

And, like he had also prepared for this outcome, like he just fucking knew this was coming, he rolled his eyes. “Lillian? Why do you think the kids might need to see a doctor?”

“Because they catch on fire?” I offered.

“Yes, because they catch on fire,” he replied.

“But why now?” I asked. “That’s what I don’t get.”

“Just a precautionary measure,” he said. “Just to make sure everything’s the same. Not better. But not worse. Do you understand?”

“Because of the secretary of state thing?” I guessed.

“Yes,” he replied; he was tired. It was a little easier working with him when he was tired.

“I wish you’d told me earlier,” I said. “I have to put that gel on them, and it takes a while.”

“No,” he said. “We need them in a natural state. For the exam.”

I didn’t know if there was a way to say the word exam without it sounding creepy, but if there was, Carl had not found it. “Carl, is this a real doctor?” I asked.

“It’s complicated,” he said, which is absolutely not what you want to hear when you ask if the person you’re going to see is a licensed physician.

But I also knew it was pointless to fight him, that this came from Jasper, or Madison more likely. It was going to happen. At least the kids could have more ice cream afterward.

“I am going to be there the entire time, okay? Both of us, actually,” I told him.

“Of course,” he said.

Once we were dressed and ready, Carl pulled up in a green Honda Civic, a surprisingly ugly car, considering how nondescript it was. It looked like the kind of car that a man who sold calendars door-to-door would drive.

“Whose car is this?” I asked Carl.

“It’s mine,” he said.

“I thought you had the Miata,” I told him.

“I have two cars,” he said.

“Why do you have this car?” I asked.

“Because sometimes you don’t want to show up in a red sports car,” he told me. “Sometimes you need to show up in a Honda Civic. And tell me again what kind of car you drive?”

“That’s not important,” I said. “C’mon, kiddos.”

The interior was pristine, like it had just come off the lot. It was so impressive that I smiled at Carl, nodding my approval.

“Can we listen to music?” Roland asked.

“Absolutely not,” Carl replied, checking his rearview mirror. And we were off.

We were headed to a little town north of Nashville called Springfield. We drove past acres of tobacco on country roads until we pulled up to a two-story house with a white picket fence, the state flag of Tennessee flying from a pole set in the middle of the front yard.

“So,” I said, “just somebody’s house? Not a doctor’s office?”

“You’ll see,” Carl said, already stepping out of the car. As I collected the kids, who were bored and hot, I saw an ancient man appear on the porch, wearing a huge red bow tie, a blue oxford shirt, khakis, and red suspenders. He had on little round glasses. He looked like Orville Redenbacher, the popcorn guy. He looked insane in that way of people who put great effort into choosing ridiculous clothing. I prayed this was not the doctor.

“I’m the doctor!” he said, waving to the children.

“Oh god,” I said, and Carl surreptitiously jabbed me in the side.

“Hello, Carl,” he said.

“Dr. Cannon,” Carl replied.

“Well, come on,” Dr. Cannon said to the children, walking down the steps of the front porch. “Let’s have a look at you.” The children seemed baffled by this man, his enthusiasm. But they weren’t afraid. They walked toward him.

“Come on to my office,” he told them, and we all followed him around the house to a small white building, a single room, set in the backyard. He unlocked the door and walked in. “This belonged to my grandfather, if you can believe that,” he told us. “Eighteen ninety-six. Every town of a notable size would have a good country doctor, of course. Now, this hasn’t been in use for many, many years, but ever since I retired from practicing medicine, I like to sit in here. I like to sit in here and think.”

The wooden floors were painted gray and the walls were white. It felt so tiny in there, with all of us packed in. There were really old-looking medical instruments that I hoped would not be used today. There was a rickety wooden examining table upholstered in black leather. There were oil lamps and old bottles with labels for various quack pills. It looked like something you’d find in a living museum, a historical village. It looked like something a crazy person would have in their backyard.

“This is really wonderful, Dr. Cannon,” Carl said.

“So you’re a retired physician?” I asked him.

“Oh, yes. Practiced medicine for fifty years. Now, you know, I was the family doctor for the Roberts family when Senator Roberts, that is, Jasper’s father, was alive. I was considered the best doctor in Nashville, in the whole state of Tennessee.”

“Okay,” I said, not sure what else to say.

“I very much value my relationship with the Roberts family,” he said. “And they, of course, value my discretion.”

This all sounded creepy, like it had to be about venereal diseases, so I just kept saying “Okay” and hoping for the best.

“But these children!” he said, his voice booming. “How interesting. Now, as I’m sure Carl told you, I’m not only a doctor of medicine.”

“He did not tell me,” I replied, looking at Carl, who hadn’t even taken off his sunglasses yet.

“I am also a doctor of the paranormal, which is its own kind of science, I can assure you. And, wouldn’t you know it, I have done quite a bit of research on spontaneous human combustion.”

“Is that so?” I said, ready to scream.

“But medicine and the paranormal, while equally important, are two different things. So we keep them separate, or at least I do. Let me check these children out. Hop up, one at a time, on this table.”

Roland hopped up. The doctor took his temperature, thank god reaching into a little black bag with modern instruments, and then took his blood pressure and checked his eyes and ears and throat. He did the same for Bessie, who looked right at me the entire time, trying to keep herself calm. But the doctor was careful, mindful of the children. He wasn’t invasive. He simply observed them and made notes.

“This is all fine and good,” he said. “They’re in perfect health, of course. I could tell by looking at them that this would be the case.”

“That’s wonderful, Dr. Cannon,” Carl said.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Well, from what I understand, what Jasper has told me, you children catch on fire, is that right?”

The kids looked at me, and I gave them a thumbs-up sign and so they nodded in agreement.