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“Unassisted.”
“Yeah, I, uhhhhh. Have to go.”
“I have to see the leg,” he says.
“Nah, it’s just a leg.”
“Please. Please. Indulge me.”
Evening says, “I’m shy.”
“Show me the leg. Please.”
Evening sighs. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Everything is coming out.” She tries to pull up the leg of her pants, but that doesn’t work, so she unbuckles her jeans and drops them to her ankles.
She has nice legs. Very athletic and shapely. But I have no idea why this man needs so badly to see them.
“Holy crap,” the doctor whispers.
Evening sighs. “Show’s over.” She pulls her pants up. “Now, we have to go.”
She grabs my hand firmly and yanks me after her.
We rush through a crowd of people in a waiting room. I see children sitting with their parents.
Do I have parents? No, I don’t.
It bothers me. Even as I’m dragged along, it bothers me. I know—I’ve been told—that I’m different, so it’s not a surprise. It’s just that I’m not simply different, I’m unique.
That should be a good thing, perhaps, but it doesn’t feel good.
“I want a last name,” I say as we reach the outside.
“Kind of busy,” Evening says, and we race to board a bus. We find seats. People gawk at me. I’m getting used to it.
“I don’t like this,” I say. It’s true. I feel bad. I feel strange.
Aislin sits across the aisle from us. “I’ve always liked the last name Allbright.”
“Adam Allbright?”
“My name’s Aislin, by the way.”
“Yes, I’m aware of your name.”
She holds out her hand, very formal. She smiles. She has a nice smile. Different from Evening’s. But nice. Someone has recently struck her. She has a bruise on her face, and I can see the individual fingermarks.
I shake her hand and try out the name again. “Hi, I’m Adam Allbright. Adam Allbright, nice to meet you.”
Evening is looking back and forth from me to Aislin. I ask her if it’s appropriate for me to call myself Allbright.
“Call yourself whatever you like.”
“Adam Allbright,” I say. “That’s me.”
– 40 –
Aislin is not drooling.
