Chapter 6: The Person in the Chair

Evan's label maker had been labeled CONTAGIOUS.

He found it on the rear clinic counter at five forty-two. Qing stood beside the sink eating sesame crackers from the emergency food in his storm kit.

"Those aren't clinic supplies."

"They were beside the clinic supplies."

"They were zipped inside my bag."

"Your defenses lacked conviction."

Su entered with a tray of covered cups. She read the label on the machine.

"Accurate."

"It printed thirty-seven labels before I stopped it," Qing said. "It was breeding."

Evan peeled off the label and stuck it back across the machine. "Containment achieved."

The privacy screen stood a foot too close to the rear exit. He moved it before Su could object, then checked that a cane or wheelchair could clear the gap.

Su tested the screen's brake with her thumb. "Adequate."

Praise from Su tended to arrive disguised as a building inspection.

Evan hung his rain shell beside the rear door. The headlamp stayed zipped in its inside pocket with gloves, batteries, and two chemical lights. He set out the blood pressure cuff and intake sheets.

At six, May unlocked the front door.

By six ten, every chair was full.

Leon occupied the chair nearest the heater, his left foot in a surgical sandal.

"Vascular follow-up next week," he told Evan. "They've reserved a dock for me and everything."

"A room," Evan said.

"Young man, I've spent forty years around docks. I know a berth when somebody makes me wait for one."

"Keep the sandal on. Call sooner if the foot changes color or gets colder."

Leon tapped the sandal against the floor. "You worry about your end. My toes and I have an understanding."

Evan had met the toes. He doubted the arrangement was enforceable.

Across the room, Su raised her head. Her attention fixed on a man waiting in a gray coat.

"The man in the gray coat has taken too much ibuprofen," she said. "You smell of tablets and an empty stomach."

The room quieted.

The man touched his abdomen. "I skipped lunch."

Evan lowered his pen. "I haven't asked whether he wants his medications discussed in public."

Su turned to him. "He requires food before another dose."

"Probably. He still gets to decide who hears why."

The man in gray glanced around the packed room. His cheeks had reddened.

Evan faced him. "Would you rather talk behind the screen? I'm asking because stomach pain with ibuprofen can matter."

"Yeah. Behind the screen."

"All right. Don't take anything else until we talk."

Qing held out the cracker packet.

The man took it. "Are these safe?"

"They have been extensively tested," she said.

"By her," Evan said. "Mostly tonight."

Su carried one of the covered cups behind the screen without looking at him.

For the next hour they collided in small ways.

Evan asked what had changed and what could kill someone first. Su caught scents in the air and named findings before patients finished removing their coats. Twice he asked her to wait. Once she asked whether his questions had an end point.

Then Lan Pham came through the rear door from the alterations shop next door.

Red thread clung to the sleeve of her black cardigan. She lowered herself into the intake chair, removed one flat shoe, and set it squarely beneath the seat.

"I need my feet to stop burning," she said. "Both, before you ask."

"How long?" Evan asked.

"Eight months. Worse this week."

"Any weakness or new numbness? I'm checking for a change that needs attention tonight."

"Maybe the big toe."

"Which foot?"

"Right."

Su crouched before her and drew one breath through her nose.

"The nerve pain has spread past the right arch," she said. "The great toe has lost sensation."

Evan looked at Lan. "Did you tell her that?"

"I told her my feet burn."

Su reached toward the stocking.

"Hold on," Evan said. "I want to check circulation and make sure there isn't a wound."

"There is no wound."

"Her stocking's still on."

"I do not require sight."

"New numbness can come from more than neuropathy."

"And none of those causes will improve while her pain prevents an examination."

"The pain tells us where the problem is changing."

Su rose. "You are proposing delay because you distrust information you cannot collect yourself."

"I'm proposing an exam before treatment changes the findings."

Lan raised her hand.

Neither of them stopped.

She pulled a loose thread from her cardigan and snapped it between her fingers.

"I am sitting right here. You keep saying her as if she went home and left her feet."

Evan closed his mouth.

Lan pointed first at him, then at Su. "If you discuss me over my head, I charge both of you fitting-room rent."

"You're right," Evan said. "Lan, can we start again?"

Su settled into the second chair. "Yes. We were discourteous."

"Use my name this time."

Evan turned until Lan had his full attention.

"Lan, I'd like to examine both feet. I'll check the skin, pulses, strength, and sensation. Some of it may be uncomfortable. You can stop me whenever you want."

"And Su?"

"She stays if you want her to."

Lan looked at Su. "Stay. Keep your hands to yourself until you ask."

"I will."

Evan removed the stocking from Lan's right foot. The skin was intact and warm, with no swelling or drainage. Her pulse held under his fingertips.

"Push against my hand."

Lan pushed hard.

"Good. Now tell me when you feel this."

The filament touched the heel, the ball of the foot, the smaller toes. Lan answered each time. At the right great toe, she guessed once, frowned on the second touch, and gave no answer on the third.

"When did that start?"

"Sunday. Maybe Saturday."

"Why wait?"

"I had fourteen hems due."

From the front room came the sharp crack of electricity.

Blue light flashed beneath the privacy screen. Somewhere on Jackson, a transformer blew with a sound like a metal door slammed by a giant hand.

The clinic vanished.

The fan stopped. The wall heater clicked off. Someone near the front swore, and a chair scraped across the floor.

"Nobody touch my feet," Lan said.

"Everyone stay seated," Evan called. "Qing, count the room."

"Already counting."

His rain shell hung by the rear door, outside the screen. The headlamp was in its inside pocket because that was where a headlamp belonged during a storm. It was also twelve dark feet away.

For six seconds, the room was only voices.

"Leon?"

"Still handsome."

"May?"

"Everyone near me is seated."

A phone screen lit beyond the partition, then another. Neither reached the floor beside Lan.

Evan put one hand on the intake table and edged toward the opening.

Su spoke from beside the chair.

"Lan, may I touch your right foot?"

"Tell me why."

"I can confirm where the pain changes and give you something tonight. It will not restore the numbness or correct its cause."

"What happens after?"

"Mr. Xu arranges an evaluation. You watch for weakness, a wound, swelling, color change, or pain moving up the leg."

"Hospital?"

"If one of those occurs," Evan said. "Otherwise, we make the appointment tomorrow."

"And if I refuse the appointment?"

"I'll tell you what worries me. The choice stays yours."

The room remained black. Evan found the edge of the screen and followed it toward the rear wall.

"Then do," Lan said. "Now you can touch me."

Fabric moved once.

Su's voice came lower. "Here?"

Lan sucked in air. "Exactly there."

Evan reached the rain shell. His fingers caught the zipper, lost it, found it again. The headlamp came free tangled in a glove.

A soft sound left Lan, almost a sigh.

The lamp blinked on.

Its narrow beam crossed the floor and found Su beside the chair. Two fingers rested against the center of Lan's right arch. She had placed them there in total darkness without searching the skin.

Lan's hands opened on her knees.

"The burning moved back," she said. "It's at the heel now."

Su lifted her hand. Sweat stood at her hairline. Beneath her chair, her right toes drew tight against the floor.

Evan aimed the beam at the ceiling.

The fluorescent lights returned all at once. The fan coughed into motion. Voices rose from the front room as Qing finished counting everyone a second time.

"Transformer on Jackson," May called. "The block is coming back."

Lan flexed her foot. Su shifted her weight onto her left leg before standing.

Evan had seen where her hand landed, and the pain leave Lan's face, and Su's right foot pull against the floor. He said nothing about any of it.

Lan put her stocking back on.

"I want the evaluation," she said. "No emergency department unless my foot becomes dramatic."

"Fair," Evan said. "I'll call in the morning."

"I didn't ask if it was fair."

"No. You didn't."

Su brought over a bottle of dark liniment.

"May I explain how to use this?" she asked.

Lan nodded.

Su named the amount, the possible skin irritation, and when to stop. She did not mention a scent until Lan asked what she had found.

When Lan left, she carried the liniment, Evan's warning sheet, and his number.

At the threshold, she turned toward Su. "Next time, ask before you tell him anything about me."

"I will."

Lan examined her for another second, then went next door.

Su remained by the chair, favoring her right foot so slightly Evan might have missed it before tonight.

He folded the filament into its case. Eleven questions pressed for order. None belonged in a room full of patients who had not agreed to hear the answers.

"Do you need to sit down?" he asked.

"No."

"Do you want me to examine your foot?"

"No."

"All right."

Her attention rested on him a moment longer, and then the clinic went on without them.

At ten fourteen, Qing locked the front door.

May had gone home. Leon had left after reminding three patients that Evan carried a storm kit, two flashlights, and enough gauze to wrap a city bus. The examination-paper bin overflowed. Damp shoe prints crossed the rear tile.

Su stood at the counter with an index card and Evan's pen.

"What are you writing?" he asked.

"A protocol short enough to remember during a power failure."

"The agreement is only one page."

"It uses whenever possible six times."

"Medicine contains uncertainty."

"Grammar need not imitate it."

She wrote three lines in her compact hand.

Ask before examination or disclosure.

Name the finding, the uncertainty, and the choices.

Ask what the patient wants.

Su taped the card above the rear counter.

Evan read it twice. "You left out my appendix."

"It did not survive triage."

"Are you accepting this?"

"I am accepting that Lan received what she requested after we stopped deciding for her."

Her right heel hovered above the floor.

Evan packed the cuff. "Victor will ask whether the trial continues."

"Victor can survive until morning."

Su poured the last covered cup and placed it near his hand.

"Next Tuesday," she said. "Five thirty."

"I thought this was one night."

"One night identified several problems."

"Such as?"

"You interrupt. Your forms repeat themselves. Qing cannot be trusted near adhesive equipment."

From the hall, Qing said, "I can hear slander through walls."

Evan picked up the cup. "If we're doing this every week, you can call me Evan."

Su aligned the remaining cups along the counter.

"Next Tuesday, Evan."

He carried the trash bag into the alley.

The rear door met no resistance. It stood ajar by two inches, though he remembered hearing Qing lock it after Lan left. A damp patch marked the inside mat, roughly the size of a shoe.

"Qing?"

No answer came from the alley. She had probably taken out the recycling and failed to pull the door shut. That explanation fit well enough to carry upstairs.

Evan tested the latch twice. It caught both times.

His phone lit in his pocket as he returned to the rear room. The screen read 10:31 p.m. Marisol had sent a message.

Su's cup remained warm in his other hand.

Chaplain from hospice asked the desk twice this week what shift you work. Nathan Zhao. Why does a chaplain want you, Xu?