1-800-MD-TUSCH
Jenreel points at the sign as we enter the #9 train at South Ferry. Cetaf and Beriah are at street level. Ever since the war memorials they are fascinated people’s stories. We stop at each historic marker, each memorial plaque. Thank god we didn’t go to Ellis and Liberty Islands!
I feel the train lurch and worry that Cetaf and Beriah might be left behind.
The doors pulse shut and I’m reminded of a sphincter constricting.
“The sign is for a doctor, a type of healer, who specializes in problems of the rectum and anus.”
“Isn’t that how you people relieve yourselves of waste?”
I nod.
“You people have trouble relieving yourselves of waste?”
A bag lady bumps into me and knocks me back. Her hand clutches the pole in front of me and she stands between Jenreel and me. “Children don’t. Kiddies go whenever and wherever they need. That’s why they’s always smiling.”
She smiles wide and proud and releases her bowels. The smell is obvious, although she is so wrapped in rags nothing escapes.
A buzzer sounds and the doors clamp again but open quickly, stopped from sealing by some of Notre Dame du Bags’ luggage. She waddles out and Cetaf and Beriah come in. People make room for Cetaf as he squeezes through the door.
Jenreel points her out to Cetaf and Beriah as she crosses the platform and bumps into people. “She has no problems of the rectum and anus.”
I nod. “I think that’s why she’s so happy.”
Cetaf and Beriah also see the TUSCH sign.
Jenreel explains, “Some of them have trouble getting rid of their waste. The ones who don’t smile, evidently.”
I look around the subway car. Nobody’s smiling. Some are twitching. One or two mumble to themselves.
My eyes come back to Jenreel and he cocks his head at me. “You’re not smiling, Ben.”
“Constipated.”
“Oh.”
Previous entries in The Book of the Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) series
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