The Prince of West End Avenue by Alan Isler

Author:Alan Isler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction, Humor, General
ISBN: 9781446484784
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2011-07-30T23:00:00+00:00

I pretended to a slight sore throat.

He took a look. "Seems fine to me, you old goldbricker, pink as a baby's bottom. Beautiful tonsillectomy, they really knew their business in those days. Suck a lemon drop."

"How's Lottie Grabscheidt?"

"Coming along nicely. Tomorrow she can have visitors. You can toddle along there and bother her instead of me."

"But she'll be well enough to take part in the play?" In fact, given today's wonderful teamwork on stage, it occurred to me that we would be better off without her. La Perlmutter, excellent in herself, has proved a catalyst to excellence in others. (Of course, I wish La Grabscheidt no harm.)

"That I wouldn't count on," he said. "Patience is the operable word." He winked and narrowed his eyes. "No pun intended." He squinted at me. "You look a bit gray, now that I look at you. As long as you're here consuming my valuable time, I might as well give a listen." He adjusted his stethoscope. "Strip to the waist."

I began to undress. "You should take a look at Miss Dattner when you get a chance."

"Why, you old goat, whatever are you suggesting?"

" 'She has of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all her mirth.' The effervescence is gone. She sighs a lot and seems sometimes on the brink of tears. As a layman, I would diagnose a case of unhappiness in love, a broken heart. But a doctor

might think differently. It might be something truly organic, maybe a virus, a low-grade fever."

He looked thoughtful.

"She's a beautiful girl, a good family, too, pillars of the community, Shaker Heights. But she's all alone here in New York. I worry about her."

He seemed distracted.

"The stethoscope, Doctor."

"What? Oh, yes." He listened back and front while I coughed. He went through the familiar routine twice. "Take my advice and ease up some, get out more, walking's good for you. And make proper use of the siesta hour. I'm going to give you a Valium, but I want to see you again in three days. You can get dressed now." He helped me on with my undershirt.

"You're not married, Doctor?"

"You know I'm not."

"A doctor should always be married. It's an old truth still valid today. It prevents loose talk."

"Talk?" He looked at me sharply.

"Well, in the course of his work a doctor has to examine his female patients, some of them cursed with active imaginations. He has to probe all their hidden secrets; their very sacraria must yield to his careful scrutiny."

He laughed. "If my female patients are concerned about their sacraria, as you put it, they have more to fear from Freddy Blum than from me."

"One reads such odd things in the papers."

"Sacraria! Boy-o-boy!"

"The trouble is, the gossip is all in the other direction."

"What does that mean?"

I shrugged. "You're the doctor."

The blood drained from his face, and the hand on his stethoscope trembled. "They think I'm gay, is that it?"

"In a place like this, naturally tongues wag. For some it is their only exercise."

"They think I'm a homo, a queer!"

"Please, Doctor, calm yourself, the last thing I wanted was to upset you.

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