Free The Doctor's Wife by Luis Jaramillo Page B

“I’d be very surprised if we didn’t offer you a place on the U Dub team. What would you think about that?”
    â€œI’d be honored, sir,” he says, but he feels worried. In the locker room he strips his muddy clothes off. He can’t imagine four more years of this. Bob is interested in something beyond what he’s seen so far. He stands under the shower, aware of the other boys horsing around, celebrating the victory.

The Door to the River
    My grandfather bought a five-acre piece of property on the Stilliguamish, meaning to use the land for fishing, but mostly we went for family picnics. The first time I remember going was when I was about two-and-a-half. I don’t remember driving up past Arlington and then east, toward the mountains, through the long green valley. I don’t remember my grandfather unlocking the gate or driving on the road to the edge of our property. I don’t remember walking—maybe I was carried—through the thick stands of cottonwoods to our narrow strip of beach. I’m guessing my grandmother had made a lunch of fried chicken and bread and butter sandwiches. (“That’s what you make for a picnic,” she says, which may have been true once.)
    All I remember is standing on a big mossy rock and then slipping into the cold river.
    â€œYou fell into the current and I thought, there goes my first son,” my mom says when I ask her if I was actually in any danger. This seems awfully breezy, but my mother was younger then than I am now. John had died long before. There was no real reason to be superstitious, no reason to think that there might be an extra element of danger for the males of the family.

Broken Bones II
    The Doctor likes to go to the Friday fish fry at the Everett Yacht Club. Chrissy has put on a fresh dress and brushed her hair, excited for the dinner out. The whole family is going even though Bob says he’s broken his foot. The foot is likely just sprained and a trip to the emergency room will ruin everybody’s evening, says the Doctor. Chrissy agrees.
    Bob limps. His foot has been wrapped up and he uses crutches retrieved from the basement. Ann has brought a book, which Chrissy disapproves of. Colorful signal pennants swoop down from the ceiling in festive rows. The picture windows look out at the mouth of the Snohomish River, over Port Gardner Bay and in the distance, Whidbey Island. A band plays on a stage.
    â€œCan we dance, Daddy?” Chrissy asks.
    He takes her to the dance floor. She feels lucky to have her father to herself.

Remorse
    Chrissy is sitting at the kitchen table, she has a huge zit on her face, and the doctor is holding her chin, looking down at her.
    â€œIt’s a cyst,” says the Doctor.
    â€œWhat can you do about it?”
    â€œI’ll lance it.” The Doctor already has his bag open.
    â€œNo,” Chrissy shrieks.
    â€œDo you want to get rid of it or not?”
    â€œYes, but I don’t want—”
    The doctor jabs her face. “Look at that pus roll out!” he says as he pulls the lancet from the cyst.
    Chrissy feels woozy.
    â€œNow it’ll get better,” he says.

Trying
    â€œHold on to the rope, Mom! Keep your legs together.”
    Her rotten children rev the engine of the motorboat. She’s dragged halfway across the lake before she finally lets go. That’s enough of that and nobody can say she didn’t try, she thinks as she coughs up a couple hundred gallons of water.
    The boat circles around, Bob at the wheel. Ann and Chrissy gather up the skis that have flown off her feet. They’re laughing so hard they have to hold each other up.
    â€œLet me in the boat.”
    â€œTry once more,” they say, wheezing.
    â€œLet me in right this instant.”
    â€œYou almost have it. Try once more.”
    She puts on the skis and is again dragged through the water, again swallows half the lake. The scene repeats itself several