Free Savage Delight by Sara Wolf Page B

Fenwall is Santa. If Santa went on a slimfast diet and wore corduroy pants every day of his life and used words like ‘endometrial tissue’.
    “Now, Isis, if you could just lie back –”
    I slump on the CAT scan bed and huff. “I’ve done this before, doc! I’ve done lie backs every freaking day since I’ve been here! At least seventy billion lie backs!”
    Fenwall’seyes crinkle and his white mustache curls with his smile. “You should be a little used to it.”
    “You never get used to being slotted into a giant doughnut’s vagina.” I motion at the CAT machine. It beeps excitedly. I plot its demise.
    “Well, this is your last time doing it. Come on now, lie back.”
    I shout UGH and flop back and bang my head.
    “And be careful, will you? We spent a lot of hours sewing that cranium back together.” Fenwall chides. He presses a button and the CAT bed slides in, a tunnel engulfing me in dimness.
    “You okay in there?” He asks.
    “Everything’s cramped and smells like cotton balls.”
    “Perfectly fine, then.Start it up, Cleo!”
    A woman at the control panel in the next room waves through the window and the machine starts to whirr. I hear Fenwall leave, and then it’s just me and Big Bertha. And her vagina.
    “How’s…how’s the weather up there in…robot land?” I try. The machine gurgles.
    “Good. That’s good. And the kids?”
    Big Bertha bleeps enthusiastically and a blue light blinds me.
    “Ahh!”I shield my eyes. “Th-They must going through teenage rebellion!”
    The machine blips sadly and the light goes out.
    “It’s okay,” I assure her. “When they’re in their twenties they’ll think you’re smart and worth listening to again.”
    “Tilt your head to the left, Isis.” Fenwall’s intercom blasts in my ear.
    “Rude! I’m having! A discussion! Here!”
    “Are you talking to inanimate objects again? Mernich would love to hear about that.” I can hear his grin.
    “No! No, I’m not talking to anything! Nothing at all! Just…myself! Which is basically nothing. Nothing special. Except my butt. My butt is definitely something hells special –”
    “Left, Isis.” Fenwall doesn’t take my shit. In a friendly grandpa-y way. I tilt my head and Bertha beeps once, twice, and there’s a pause. The regular white lights come back on and the bed slides out slowly.
    “Phew!” I leap up and shake off the claustrophobia. I hate small spaces. Almost as much as I hate soy milk. And furbies. Fenwall comes in.
    “Feeling alright?” He asks.
    “Well, I need to spend five therapeutic years on the open plains of Mongolia, but other than I’m good.”
    “Fantastic. Your results will be done in just a second. Let’s go get your mother.”
    I follow him out to the hall. It feels so good to walk around in my real clothes, not a hospital gown anymore. And the absence of a stinky bandage turban clinging to my head is a mild plus. I practice shaking my hair out like a majestic lion but almost hit an intern and stop. They have enough problems without fabulous hair in their eyes. Mom’s waiting in the lobby. She smiles and gets up and hugs me.
    “So? What are the results?”
    Fenwalllooks at the papers in his hands. “Everything looks fine. The hemorrhaged tissue has cleared up remarkably well.”
    “What about this?” I point at the scar just to the side of my hairline, and above my forehead. “The hair isn’t growing back. I’ll never get married!”
    “The scar will shrink and fade, but that will take time. Years,” Fenwall says.
    Mom pats my head. “It’s not too big, sweetie. Unless they’re seven feet tall and can look straight down on your head, no one will ever see it.”
    She’s right. What’s one more scar on an ugly girl, anyway?
    “Do I get any meds?” I ask. Fenwall smiles.
    “Nope.You’re free to go. We’d like to set up a check-up appointment in a few weeks –”
    He motions to Mom, and the two of them go to the counter and speak to the nurse. There