A short story originally written in 2008 at the College of Santa Fe, “The Doctor’s Dark Satchel” shows a somber, off-beat universe that, for possibly just a moment, you’d like to inhabit. Like the dark streets it describes, it is a journey through the shadows of human desire.
The Doctor’s Dark Satchel
Streetlamps wearing top hats provided a dark glow to the empty city road. A silhouette stood beneath one of the lights, haunting like the shadow of a stingray sifting in deep murky water. A mother’s eyes gazed upon the man’s shrouded form from a second story window, trying to discern more than her eyes would allow in the night’s darkness.
Sebastian was tall Spanish man with a face that looked like it was constantly holding back an evil grimace. Dark rainbows decorated hazel eyes beneath slick, combed back black hair. He had met a man named Nick at a diner the previous day. “You look weird without a suit, Sebastian,” he told him when he sat down in the booth.
The Spaniard smiled and sipped his coffee. “I feel naked.”
Nick’s blue eyes darted across the table. “Huh?”
“Without my suit,” he clarified. “I feel naked.”
“How come you never wear a tie?”
Sebastian looked out the window at the racing city streets beneath a hot sun, seemingly uninterested. “I like to wear suits without them.”
“You don’t have to wear a suit,” Nick pointed out. “I never wear one.”
The mother figured that the man must’ve been at least twenty years older than her, but again, it was hard to tell because of the dark and distance between them. She took a drag off her cigarette. “Is he here?” her son asked from the couch, wrapped in a thick, worn out, blue comforter. The only light in the room emanated from the television’s dim glow.
“Yeah, I think so,” she replied. Her boy clenched his favorite pillow with a sweaty hand. The shadow outside was also puffing on a cigarette while his other fist gripped a dark satchel.
“I’ve got to see my son after lunch,” Sebastian told Nick the previous afternoon.
The man on the opposite end of the diner booth gulped down some ice water. “How’s he?”
“A teenager,” the taller man replied. “So who knows?”
“I don’t know how you do it. My mom told me everyday not to have kids. They’ll ruin your life, she’d say.”
Again Sebastian’s gaze wandered out the window to watch cars and pedestrians gliding by. “I wouldn’t mind it if his mother wasn’t such a bitch.”
“She ever find out what we do?”
“Nah. But I don’t think she ever wanted to know as long as the money kept coming.”
Nick cocked his head. “What happened between you two anyway?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
The mother cuddled with her son the following night. “How you doing, baby?”
“What?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Oh.” The child sighed. “Hungry, I guess.”
“You know you can’t eat until this all over. I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make you whatever you want tomorrow, okay?”
Earlier that evening, Sebastian stood in front of a full-length mirror, combing his hair. A telephone on the wall rang. He flipped off the Bach record he had spinning on vinyl. “Hello?”
“You ready?” Nick asked.
“Almost,” he answered. “Where’s the party?”
“Let’s say Jim’s at around midnight.”
The Spaniard glanced at his wristwatch. “How we looking?”
“Everything’s fine,” his partner replied. “Might be a tad late, but we’re good.”
“You’ve talked to Frank this time?” Sebastian rested one of his hands on his hip. “I don’t want any of that bullshit that happened last time.”
“Frank’s fine,” Nick assured. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at twelve.”
“Okay.” He walked back over to his stereo. “Bye.”
There was knock at the mother’s door and her son’s heart leapt. “Is he here?” the boy asked.
“I think so.” She stood up to go answer the door.
“I’m scared, mommy.”
“Hello,” the stranger greeted. Now that he was close and in the apartment building’s hallway light, the mother could see that he was a pale man with large spectacles and spiky white hair that prickled out his spotted head like cactus needles. “I’ll be your doctor this evening.”
The two adults walked into the living room. “Here’s my son, Jeremy.”
“Ah yes, the boy,” the doctor exclaimed with an odd joy. The jingling of medical tools in the man’s satchel could be heard as he walked over to the couch. “Hello, Jeremy.”
“Hi,” the child squeaked out politely.
The doctor took a stethoscope from the bag and latched it to his ears as the boy’s mom watched nervously from the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. “You’re a brave kid, you know that?” He noticed Jeremy’s breath was quick and harsh before pulling out a large syringe and filling it with a drug resembling melted lime Jello.
The mother felt her boy’s fear from across the room. She took a step forward. “What’s that for?”
While the doctor handled the needle, he said, “Why don’t you fix us some coffee?”
Giving Jeremy one more worried glance, she crept into the kitchen behind her to find that jar of instant coffee sitting on top of the stove, which she flicked on to get some water boiling.
The doctor strolled into the kitchen when the tea pot whistled, and the mother poured the water to make the man his beverage. “Jeremy will be unconscious for a good seven hours.”
The mother was leaning on the counter by the fridge. “How long will it, uh, take?”
“Two or three hours.” The room’s dim fluorescent glow flickered above a cracked orange floor. “Give or take. You mind if I sit?”
“No, go ahead.”
Pulling a metal chair to sit down on its gray cushion, the older man observed the thin, short blonde woman as she handed over the hot mug. “Thank you.” He took a sip. “A few things before I get started… Jeremy cannot stay on the couch. I’ll also need a clean sheet and a clean table. The sheet should be something you won’t mind tossing after. That’d be better than the boy’s Batman sheets or what-have-you…”
“Okay.” A string of dirty golden hair fell in front of her face.
He took another sip and the hot brew made his eyes bulge a little. “And some sugar, please.”
The prior evening, Sebastian’s tanned hands gripped the steering wheel of his luxury sedan. Unable to tolerate the silence stinging between him and his son, he said, “So you’ve got a birthday coming up.”
“Yep.” The deep voice felt dark and distant to the father.
“You know what you want?” There was a sigh after enduring more quiet buzzing. “I’ll get you whatever you want. Just name it.”
When the car stopped in front of Sebastian’s ex-wife’s house, the young man stepped out. “When you going to tell me where you get your money, dad?”
He gave his child a long, serious stare. “Tell your mom I say hi,” he finally said. “I’ll see you next week, Seth.”
The doctor put the bloody sheet in a trash bag, washed his hands, and lit a cigarette. “He’ll be passed out like that for another four hours or so,” he explained to the mother. “He’s going to be okay, though. He’s a tough kid.”
“And the money?”
The doctor looked at the woman with a peculiar, scrunched expression, smoke floating out of his cigarette. “My associate will be arriving shortly to give me a lift. He’ll have the cash, too.”
Once Nick dropped off the bag and picked up the doctor, the mother stashed the majority of it, grabbed a few hundred-dollar bills, and left the apartment after kissing Jeremy on the cheek as he peacefully slept.
A few minutes along the highway, Nick asked, “How’d it go, Frank? Better than last time?”
“Very well,” the doctor replied. “Kids are easier than adults. Should be good for tomorrow’s operation.”
Sebastian was sitting at a bar trying not to notice two young drunk women at the opposite end of the room, watching sports highlights on the TV instead. He checked his watch and saw it was 12:04, then motioned for the barkeep. “Another whiskey, please.”
The mother told her dealer that she won a lottery ticket at the gas station and spent a few hundred before rushing back to her Baltimore apartment. Jeremy was still knocked out on the sofa under his faded blue comforter. She glanced over at him before rushing to the bedroom, flipping on the lamp, reaching into her dresser to pull out syringe, a bent burnt spoon, and a worn-out belt. With a sigh of immense relief, the mother reached into her jeans’ pocket and seized a lighter, her cigarettes, and a plastic baggy stuffed with dirty white powder.
Nick and Frank arrived at Jim’s Bar around 12:14 to meet a slightly drunk Spaniard. Each of them had a drink and discussed their next move. “Sure, Frank,” Nick said while placing some money on the bar around 1 AM.
Sebastian eyed the doctor as they stood up from their barstools. “Who’s your team?”
“Knicks,” the doctor answered.
“Oh.” The taller man’s long black hair wiggled when he shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
The three individuals proceeded to walk over to Nick’s vehicle in the parking lot. The trunk popped open and they all huddled around a thick cooler. “There it is, huh?”
Sebastian glanced at the wet yellow kidney on ice.
“It’s so small.”
Written by BW Derge, All Rights Reserved 2024
© USA
This was a short story composed in 2008 called "The Doctor's Dark Satchel"
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