Typical American by Gish Jen

Author:Gish Jen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Modern fiction, Fiction
Publisher: Granta Books
Published: 1998-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

sight. Theresa looked away, noticing that though the girl's jewelry, like her clothes, had been removed, her nail polish remained. This was a summery, watermelon pink, just the sort of color that a carefree young lady with her life in front of her might pick. Theresa shuddered.

And yet what was hardest about training was not such horrors. It was not the hours. It was not the responsibility, or the pain, or the patients, or the politics, or the masses of information tumbling and reeling in her head like cars on a circus ride. It was not the mnemonic devices, as hard to recall as the facts. ("The Argyll-Robertson pupil accommodated but did not react." What was the joke, though? Something about a prostitute.) It was not the fatigue. Or not exactly. What was hardest about training, for Theresa, was having to sleep in that dank, little room the interns all shared, with men. "If there were more women..." someone had explained, with a shrug. Now, as weary, she headed that way — finally, finally done — she thought about how soundly the men slept. She thought about how the men snored and tossed. They cried out. They moaned. They farted. They scratched themselves, and worse. Even the still ones, who slumbered soulfully, who curled up neatly, even they disturbed her; she could feel their radiant presence, against which she had to stand guard. Maybe they bothered her most, the sweet ones. So peaceful, but what dreams they might stir up in her if she slept, all throbbing, and sliding. A spinster's hot heaves; how pointed her needs were, it was impossible to sleep. It was impossible to think about people witnessing her sleep. What if she moaned, and cried out, and scratched herself, or worse?

And so it was that when Old Chao phoned, Theresa was lightheaded with fatigue. Taken aback, she not only dropped the receiver but admitted to him that she had — a small intimacy. Who would have predicted the larger ones to follow?

"So clumsy," she said. "1 don't know what's the matter with me."

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