Becoming Ellen

by Shari Shattuck

  19

  Ellen got home and dropped her bag and the mail shortly after seven. Just before eight, she slipped out again and went to wait, hidden in the busy commuter foot traffic of the sidewalk, just at the edge of the alley.

  At about eight fifteen, Seth came down the alley, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his too-small coat, and his head bowed against the cold wind. There was a light dusting of snow on the sidewalks, too powdery to stick, that blew into tiny ridges and swirled in the doorways. Seth’s nose and cheeks were flushed and red and his breathing was labored. He had the look of someone who was so cold they would never get warm again.

  Moving stiffly, he turned left onto the avenue, and then left again at the next corner. Ellen fell into step behind him, letting him keep a long lead because she knew where he was going. Eight chilly blocks later, he stopped in front of a dingy storefront, whose windows had been painted white, and checked an address on an envelope he was holding. Then he went in.

  Ellen went slowly to the door and stood waiting until a big man, shabbily dressed with lesions on his face and leaning heavily on a cane, came along and opened it. Past him, Ellen saw a small but busy waiting room. She followed in the large man’s wake and slipped into a chair squeezed in a corner to watch. Picking up a magazine, she opened it in front of her. It was dirty and old, some of the pages were torn, and it was in Spanish, but she wasn’t going to read it anyway.

  Seth was standing at a reception desk that resembled one found in a high-security bank more than in a medical clinic. The harassed woman behind the thick glass was entering information in a computer while Seth shifted his weight from foot to foot and occasionally coughed into his hands.

  The woman seemed to be annoyed by this. She leaned forward and said through the low opening, just large enough to pass paperwork through, “Just write your name and take a seat. You need to put this on.” She slipped a cotton mask through the opening and Seth picked it up, looking at the folded white rectangle with elastic straps hanging from both sides without comprehension.

  “I just have a message for someone,” he said, passing an envelope through the space. “I’m supposed to wait for a reply,” he told the woman, and then the effort of speaking had him doubled over with coughing. When he finally straightened up again, he was flushed and swaying from lack of oxygen.

  The woman behind the desk was watching him with a combination of disgust and concern. “Young man,” she said, “have you seen anyone about that cough?”

  Seth shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He swayed again, leaned against the counter, and then just melted, his weight slipping like limp goo before he flopped onto the floor in a heap. Ellen stood up, but the receptionist had already rounded the desk and opened the security door. She was kneeling next to Seth on the floor in seconds. Leaning over him, she put one hand to his forehead. Seth’s eyes fluttered open and he moaned, then tried to sit up, floundering wildly with his arms as though fending off an imagined attack.

  “It’s okay. Just lay back,” the woman said. “Beth!” she called out through the door, and two more people appeared. One was a sturdy man Ellen guessed was a nurse, and the other, Ellen was relieved to see, was Beth in a white doctor’s coat over green scrubs.

  Beth went straight to Seth and began speaking calmly. “Okay there, buddy, let’s get you into an examining room and take a look at you.” Seth tried to object, but allowed Beth and the man to help him up. As they started through the door, Beth was already asking questions. “How long have you had this cough? Have you been to a doctor? Do you have someone we can contact to let them know you’re here?” Seth was answering as best he could, but at the last question, he shook his head furiously and tried to pull away. Beth just held on tighter. “It’s okay, don’t worry, we don’t have to call anyone if you’re afraid, let’s just take a look at you.” She and the man led him down a short hallway with a door off each side, and the receptionist closed the security door behind them.

  Ellen was amazed at the astuteness with which Beth had recognized and dismissed Seth’s fear, but now that she had time, she looked around her. There were no less than three teenage girls there alone and looking terrified, a dowdy woman with a black eye holding an ice pack to a split lip, a young man who pulled a bloodstained bandage from his upper arm to check under it. The round hole on the fleshy outside of his arm looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. It took Ellen five seconds to realize that the majority of work that was done here was done anonymously, or at least unreported to “family” and/or authority, otherwise, these people would not have come.

  Ellen expelled a quiet sigh of relief, and when the street door opened to admit a harassed, exhausted woman with two small children and a screaming baby, Ellen slipped out around them.

  She made her way to the side of the building, looking for a place to wait until Seth came out. Along the wall of peeling stucco, there were two small, heavily barred windows. They were both hung with dingy vertical blinds, but a few of the slats were damaged or askew, so by standing on an abandoned orange crate, Ellen could see inside through a small space. The first window revealed nothing more than a cluttered office, but the second looked into one of the examining rooms. The window was cracked and a shard was missing from the lower left of the windowpane. Someone had stuffed a wad of fabric in the four-inch space to staunch the flow of cold air from going in. Ellen doubted it worked very well, as it did little to stop the sound from coming out.

  Closing one eye and clinging to the cold bars, Ellen positioned herself so that she could see through the narrow slit left exposed by a broken blind to across the room, where Seth was sitting on a rickety examining table. He had his shirt off and his legs were dangling as Beth listened to his chest with a stethoscope. His rib cage and arms were painfully thin, but he had the scrawny, wiry look of a tough little survivor.

  Beth listened to his back as well, waiting between coughs, her face tight with concentration. She had given him a white towel and instructed him to hold it over his mouth when he coughed. He seemed to keep forgetting, or maybe the coughing was coming so rapidly that he just didn’t have time.

  Finally, Beth sat down on a chair across from him and wrote on a pad. “You have bronchitis, young man,” she told him. “You’re a step away from pneumonia. You shouldn’t be out in this weather, or doing anything but resting. I would put you in the hospital but—” Seth began objecting immediately, so Beth held up a hand. “Let me finish,” she told him. “I’m going to give you a round of antibiotics instead.”

  “I don’t have money,” Seth wheezed.

  “It’s free,” Beth told him. She went to a cabinet, and removing a ring of keys from her pocket, she unlocked the formidable-looking latch and pulled down two yellow boxes. “Each of these is a week’s dose. You need to take two of these pills a day, one in the morning and one at night, for fourteen days, and then I want to see you again. If the infection has cleared up, good. If not, we’ll go from there. Also, if your fever rises over a hundred and three, you need to get yourself to the hospital. Do you have a thermometer?”

  Seth shook his head, looking abashed.

  “Here.” Beth got up and rooted through a cabinet until she came up with what looked like a pack of disposable thermometers. She handed them to Seth. “Just hold this under your tongue for thirty seconds and then look at these dots. The one that’s blue will tell you that your temperature is the corresponding number. Right now you’re at a hundred and one. You need to get home and to bed.”

  “Okay,” Seth said. “I just have to wait for your answer.”

  “My what?” Beth asked.

  “It’s my job. I do deliveries for a blind lady, and she sent me with a letter for you. I’m supposed to wait for your answer. The lady in the front took it.”

  Looking very curious, Beth stood and went out. Seth lay down sideways on the table, curling his knees up to his chest. Ellen co
uld have sworn he was relishing the relative safety and warmth of the clinic, though he must have known it couldn’t last. In a minute Beth returned with the folded letter in her hand. She sat back down in the chair and pretended not to notice Seth leaping up and pretending he hadn’t moved since she’d left.

  “Did you know what was in this?” she asked him.

  Seth shook his head.

  “It’s a request for me to see you and an address where to send a bill if there is one. This is your employer?”

  Seth nodded again, more hesitantly this time.

  Beth sighed. “Well, she’s looking out for you, and a good thing, too. A cough like that can get very nasty if you don’t take care of it. Now, I want you to go home and get some soup in you.” Beth was watching Seth. His eyes were now roaming the room.

  “You do have a home?” Beth asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Seth lied, and Ellen was certain that Beth knew that. She saw the doctor hesitate, considering whether to challenge him or not. Then she stood up. “Well. I tell you what.” She scribbled on a pad and tore off a sheet. “You take this note back to Ms. Bauer, and tell her to get you these things. I’ll let you go now if you promise me you will do two things.”

  Seth looked back at her expectantly.

  “You will come back if this gets worse, or if your fever spikes. And . . . you will come back when you finish the pills so that I can have a listen and make sure that nasty congestion is cleared up. Do we have a deal?”

  The boy nodded eagerly, relieved to be allowed to go. But Beth wasn’t quite finished. “While I have you here, is there anything else you’d like to talk about? Anything you want to ask me?” The questions were spoken factually, casually even.

  “How did you get to be a doctor?” Seth asked.

  Beth smiled. “That’s not what I meant, but I went to school, and studied really hard.”

  “Did you always want to do this?”

  The doctor nodded. “Yes. I always wanted to help people. Since I was little, I used to set up a clinic with my dolls. Quite a few of them have stitches now where I did a little surgery.” She laughed a bit at the thought.

  “I’d like to go to college,” Seth said. “If I was smart, I would.”

  Beth regarded him, then she said, “You seem pretty smart to me.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t do so great in school. Sometimes I have too many other things to do, so I can’t go.”

  “What other things?” Beth asked.

  Head down, Seth shrugged again. “You know, things for . . . work.”

  “School is really important,” Beth said, and Ellen had to lean in to hear her.

  “So is food,” Seth said, and smiled disarmingly.

  Ellen could tell that it was difficult for Beth to keep her expression calm, her mouth twitched a little, but she said, “True enough. Is there anything else wrong you’d like to tell me? Any injuries or concerns?”

  “No, just the cough,” Seth said, illustrating this with a long rasping session.

  “Is there any possibility you might have a sexually transmitted illness?” Beth asked when he had settled again.

  The boy’s ears went scarlet but he did not speak. Just twisted the white towel in his thin fingers.

  Beth stood up and came around the side of the table so that she was facing Ellen, who stooped lower. Beth put two fingers on Seth’s ribs and pressed lightly. “What about these bruises? How did you get these?”

  “Oh, uh, I fell down. You know, in the park.”

  “It looks like you fell on someone’s fist.” Beth lifted one of his arms and began checking over the rest of him, including parting his hair and examining his scalp. “What are these marks on your head?”

  “Nothing,” Seth said. “I hit my head in a doorway.”

  Beth’s eyebrows went up. “Low doorway.”

  “Yeah, it’s . . . uh, my garage. The door was down halfway. I’m pretty clumsy.”

  The doctor finished looking him over and said, “Put your shirt back on.” As Seth slid to the floor and reached for his shirt, Ellen saw his back for the first time. The left side was marked with purple and red bruises, almost like splattered paint, but more mottled. She drew in a breath and felt her nostrils flare.

  Beth faced the wall while Seth dressed, and was making notes. She stopped and turned back to him, holding the clipboard against her chest.

  “Are you sure there isn’t something else you want to tell me?”

  “No,” Seth said, staring at the floor.

  Beth said nothing, just stood looking down at the top of his head. Then she reached out and put one hand on his shoulder. “Listen . . . Seth, is it?” She glanced at the pad. “I want you to know that you can come back here whenever you need to. We’re really busy, as you can see, but if I’m here, and I always am on Thursdays, I’ll find time to talk to you. Okay?”

  “I’d like to work here,” Seth told her.

  Beth seemed taken aback, but pleasantly. “Well, we’ll have to see about that. You’re a little young yet. But in the meantime, you can come in if you need medical attention or . . . help.” Beth stressed the last word quite differently than the others, and Seth’s eyes darted up to her face, the hollowness in his eyes revealing, if only for a fraction of a second, that it was desperate to be filled. Then he shrugged off the hopeful weakness and resumed his facade of self-reliance. Beth’s face tightened, but Ellen knew she’d seen it before, and understood. “If I’m not here, I want you to take this.” She pulled a card from her clip and handed it to him. “That has my cell number on the back. If you need advice, or just need to talk, you can call me.”

  “Thanks,” Seth muttered, and slipped the card, very carefully, Ellen noted, in the back pocket of his loose pants, which were being held up by a short length of rope.

  Then he made his way to the door. Beth pretended to be writing again, but Ellen could see that she was watching the boy walk away, her eyes filled with concern. When he’d gone, she set down her work and put her face in her hands. Then, with a little shake and a forcefully exhaled breath, she picked up the clipboard and went to the door, making room for the man in scrubs. He came in and began to wipe down the table, pulling out a fresh sheet of white paper to erase and cover the place where Seth and his infection had been.

  Ellen waited a minute to give Seth a lead, and then she headed for home, her head heavy with thought, and the craving for sleep.

  20

  But sleep, Ellen could see when she arrived in the alley, was going to have to wait a while.

  Taking her usual precaution, Ellen paused before she turned the corner, to scan the alley. The first thing she saw was Seth, he was looking all around, checking to see that he was unobserved before he went into his hidden den.

  The second thing Ellen saw was the man. The wind was biting, and the man had taken shelter beside the dumpster, out of Seth’s view, but he was clearly interested in the boy. When Seth started for the grating, Ellen looked around desperately for some way to distract or warn him, but there was nothing nearby but the empty street. The man was tall and slim, his skin was dark, and even though his collar was pulled up over his chin and his hat was pulled down to his eyebrows, something about him struck Ellen as familiar. With a last glance behind him, Seth moved toward the grate. At that moment the man emerged from the shadows and started toward the boy.

  And Ellen recognized him. “Detective Barclay!” she called out in a croak. The detective, distracted by hearing his name, especially as, from the clothes he was wearing, he was obviously still undercover, stopped and looked up the alley in surprise.

  Fighting her flee impulse, and feeling as though the wind had bit through her unprotected self, Ellen waved one hand to keep his attention while Seth disappeared through the grate, pulling it closed behind him. When the detective looked back, his eyes rested on the grate for a second befo
re he started toward Ellen. “Ms. Homes, I’m glad to catch you.”

  Unable to run away, she forced herself to walk toward him. “Why?” she asked, terrified that he would say she needed to come with him, to speak up, to face others.

  But he said, “I really wanted to thank you personally. It turns out that we won’t need you to testify. The prosecutor has such a strong case, and the perpetrator was dealing the drugs he was using, so he’s plea-bargaining. The case won’t even go to court, so . . .” He hesitated, searching for a polite way to say the next bit, Ellen assumed. “After talking to your friend, Justice, who told me you’d prefer to stay out of it, I wanted to stop by and let you know you’re off the hook.” He smiled apologetically.

  “Oh, okay, thanks.” Ellen would have felt relieved if she hadn’t been in a state of panic.

  “I also thought you’d like to know that the bus driver is fine. Back to work, in fact. And the little girl you were so kind to, Lydia? Has been placed in a great home.”

  Ellen knew she should have feigned surprise. But once again she was reduced to single syllables. “Oh. Well. Good.”

  They had reached each other now, and were standing almost directly in front of the loft door. The detective looked at it pointedly. “Are you just coming home?” he asked. “I understand you work nights.” He nodded ruefully. “Me too.”

  Wondering if the detective could see her face flushing and realize that all she wanted to do was evaporate, Ellen said, “Yes.”

  A brief pause and then, “Would it be all right if I came up for a minute?”

  “Why?” Ellen asked, drawing back without being able to stop herself.

  “Because I have something to give you,” he said. “They wanted to have a ceremony, but your friend convinced me that that would be unwelcome, so I asked if I could just drop it off.”

  “Uh, I guess,” Ellen said. She unlocked the door and went up the stairs, hyperconscious of the detective’s footfalls behind her. The echoes grew more exaggerated with each flight, multiplying in her alarm until Ellen felt she was being followed not by a single person, but by an army of pursuers. When she reached the fourth-floor landing and heard voices on the other side of the door over Runt’s frantic scratching and barking, Ellen was flooded with relief. With any luck, Barclay would be distracted by Temerity or Justice and she could fade away.