Elicitation

Elicitation
, n. To draw out; especially, to draw out something latent.

By William Vitelli

Edited by Cynthia Hamilton

Chapter 1

Rain poured steadily from an ashen sky. Outside the car, the sidewalks were a riot of brightly colored umbrellas, a sea of people flowing beneath the pattering droplets. The windshield wipers made a whup-whup counterpart to the drumbeat of rain on the roof.

“I still don’t see why this is necessary,” she said.

He glanced over at her. “Legal stuff. The state requires a blood test before it will issue a marriage license.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Unless you’re thinking of changing your mind?”

“No! It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t understand why we had to drive all the way out here. I already have a doctor!”

“I know. But can he work you into the schedule for a full exam before the wedding?”

“I don’t need a full exam!” She sat back and folded her arms, petulant. “I only need a blood test! Besides, I hate doctor’s offices.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.” He shrugged and returned his attention to the road. “Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?”

She stared out the window. They drove for a while in silence as he guided the car out of the city. They passed through the suburbs, trees and buildings washed in gray.

Finally, he pulled into a nondescript medical park, low buildings in bland industrial style clustered around a large and nearly vacant parking lot. “Aaron is an old and good friend of mine. We go way back together. He normally doesn’t take new patients, especially on short notice. I asked him to do me a favor.” He smiled. “You’ll like him, I promise.”

She made a noncommittal sound.

“Oh, don’t be that way.” He opened the door and fumbled with his umbrella. “Next week we’ll be married and on our honeymoon in London. Doesn’t that make you happy?”

She said nothing, but he saw her smile. “There, that’s better.” He climbed out of the car and opened her door for her; she rose under the shelter of his umbrella, stately, elegant, a John Singer Sargent painting come to life. He marveled, not for the first time, at her beauty.

He escorted her to one of the buildings scattered through the medical park, and held it open for her. They passed into a nondescript waiting room, blandly appointed in pastels and peach. He shook droplets of water off the umbrella and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be back to pick you up in about an hour.”

“Wait! You aren’t staying?”

“No. I have some errands to run.” Before she could protest, he was gone, back out into the steady drizzle. She watched the watery yellow glow of the headlights as he pulled away from the curb.

“Miss?”

She turned, startled. The voice came from a glass window set in the wall.

“Miss? Are you a returning patient?”

She crossed the room. On the other side of the partition, a matronly woman, wearing scrubs covered in a pattern of blue and yellow duckies, looked at her expectantly.

“Huh? No. I’m new.”

“Ah!” An expression of delight crossed the woman’s face. “Yes, of course! You’re Mrs. Miller. I’ve been expecting you!”

“Miss. Miss Miller. Eileen. I’m not married yet.”

“Of course. Forgive me, please. Miss Miller. I have…” She looked around her desk, then opened a drawer and pulled out a thin file folder. “Here we go! I have your file right here. Let’s see. Umm…” She flipped through its contents. “Ah, good, good. We already have most of your paperwork. Your husb—excuse me, your fiancé took care of this already. We have your medical records. Now, if I could just get you to fill out…oh, where is it? Ah.” She slid several sheets of paper through a narrow slot. “If I could just get you to fill out the consent form, here, and the privacy notice, and the patient care information, and…yes, yes, that will do nicely.”

Eileen accepted the papers automatically. She looked around, feeling lost, abandoned by her fiancé. The waiting room was completely empty save for her and the receptionist. A small group of chairs sat clustered around a low, heavy table in the center of the waiting area, but there were no magazines, no television. The room seemed almost Spartan in its utility.

She filled out the papers mechanically and passed them back through the slot. The receptionist glanced over them, smiling. “If you’ll just have a seat, dearie, the doctor will be with you quite soon. He’s with another patient now, and the appointment is running a few minutes late. I’m dreadfully sorry about that. We usually don’t keep our patients waiting.”

Eileen perched uncomfortably on the edge of one of the seats. The feelings of abandonment grew stronger. She ran her hands up and down her arms, shivering slightly. The minutes ticked by; she stared blankly at the wall and fidgeted.

After a time, the door beside the receptionist’s window opened. Eileen looked up as a woman stepped through, a strange, blissful expression on her face. Her chestnut-brown hair was slightly disheveled, and she walked unsteadily.

For an instant, their gaze locked, and something indefinable passed between them. The woman smiled. “Are you a patient of Dr. Moreland’s?”

“I…A new patient. This is my first visit.”

“Really?” The woman’s face lit up. “Oh, you’ll like Dr. Moreland. I wish I could have my first visit with him all over again…” Her eyes half-closed, dreamy. “I’m Kathy. Maybe I’ll see you again.” She winked.

Eileen watched the woman leave.

That was weird
, she thought to herself. The brief exchange made her feel uncomfortable, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She briefly considered leaving.
No, wait,
she thought,
I don’t have a car…

The door opened again. A man in a white lab coat stepped through, a stethoscope draped around his neck, a file folder tucked under his arm. He was blandly handsome, with an open, genial smile that put her instantly at ease. He radiated calm, friendly confidence. “Miss Miller?”

“Eileen.”

“Eileen.” He strode across the room and offered his hand. “Very pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Moreland. Call me Aaron, if you like. I’ve heard so much about you.”

She took his hand, and he shook warmly. “Anthony and I are friends from our Army days. When he told me he was getting married, I was quite delighted. So naturally when he asked me if I could take you on as a patient, how could I refuse?” He gestured toward the door. “Please accept my apologies for the delay. Normally, I try not to make anyone wait. It’s one of the advantages of a very small practice.”

She followed him down a long hallway. He led her to a scale at the end of the hallway, bade her to step up on it. “Mmm, good, let’s see…” He weighed and measured her efficiently, wrote in the folder. “This way, if you please.” He opened a large, heavy door, ushered her into a small examining room. “Now, I’m told that you’re here for a standard premarital blood test and a physical exam, yes?”

“Um…yes.”

“Okay, good. If you could just disrobe for me and put this on, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Okay?” He handed her a thin paper gown. “And relax! You look like you’re here for a root canal. We’ll have you in and out in no time.”

He left and closed the door behind him. She sat gingerly on the edge of the examining table with a sigh. After a moment’s hesitation, she started peeling off her long blue sundress. The disquiet was back; she felt awkward and self-conscious. She looked around for a place to put the dress, then folded it neatly and set it on the edge of the sink. Her bra and panties followed, then her shoes and stockings. She put on the paper gown and tied the strings behind her. The back gaped open, and she felt even more self-conscious.
The least they could do is make these things fit better…

She rose from the table at the sound of a knock. “Come in!” Her voice broke.

The door opened again. Dr. Moreland—she couldn’t bring herself to think of him on a first-name basis—stepped through. A tall, willowy woman followed him, sandy blonde hair in a neat ponytail, a clipboard folded in her arms.

“Eileen, I’d like to introduce you to my nurse, Samantha Bowes. She will be assisting me today.” They shook hands politely. “Now, if you can have a seat, we can start with some basic background and history.

Eileen sat back on the edge of the table. The doctor took the clipboard and uncapped his pen. “Anthony’s already had your records forwarded over from your previous doctor, so I’ll probably only need to ask you a few questions. No allergies or family history of any serious diseases, I see.”

“No.”

“No diabetes, no heart problems, no hospitalizations or surgeries…”

“No.” The nurse took her arm and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around it.

“No fainting or dizzy spells, no history of turning into a newt…”

“No—what?”

“Just seeing if you were paying attention.” He smiled, and she relaxed a fraction. The nurse inflated the cuff and pressed a cold stethoscope against her arm. “Okay, now, there are some questions which aren’t covered here. Are you currently sexually active?”

“No. I mean, not really. We’re…it’s been a long time.”

“So you are not currently engaging in sexual intercourse with your fiancé?”

“No. Um, we decided to wait until we were married.”

“I see.” He made a notation. “How long has it been since you were last sexually active?”

“Three years.”

“Okay. Now…do you currently engage in oral sexual contact, giving or receiving?”

“No!” Fire colored her cheeks, and she made a small sound of disgust. “No, I do not. Absolutely not.”

“Anal sexual contact?”

“Excuse me?” She glared at him. “What do you think I am? Where do you come from, asking me things like that?”

He put down the clipboard and regarded her calmly. “Miss Miller, please understand that I am not trying to upset or offend you. I am your health care professional, and in order to provide you with the highest possible level of care, I need to know these things about you. I am not here to judge you. These are questions I ask all my patients. There are medical conditions that can rise in conjunction with certain sexual practices, which as your health care provider I need to be aware of. I’m sorry if these questions offend you, but I am only trying to do my job.” He picked up the clipboard and regarded her levelly. “Now then, do you engage in anal sexual contact?”

She flushed bright crimson at the question, and her glance moved back and forth between the doctor and Nurse Bowes. The nurse ignored her, entirely indifferent to her discomfort. “No! No, I absolutely do not engage in anal sexual contact,” she said through clenched teeth.

“One forty over eighty-four.” The nurse pulled the cuff from his arm. “Seventy-eight beats per minute.”

“Good.” The easy, genial smile came back. “My apologies for offending you. Eileen.”

She looked down, abashed. “It’s okay. I know you’re just trying to do your job.”

“See? That’s better. Shall we get started?” He handed the clipboard to the nurse. With one hand on her shoulder, he unfastened the drawstring of the paper gown. She felt acutely aware of his presence. The heat of his hand through the thin paper made her shift uncomfortably.

“We will start with a breast exam.” He slipped the paper robe off one shoulder, exposing her breast to the cool air. She looked away, self-conscious. His fingers pressed and probed the soft skin; she flinched and drew away. His other hand remained firm on her shoulder, holding her steady. His hand slid under her breast, questing fingers probing and pressing, causing her to squirm in self-conscious embarrassment. The intimacy of the touch, and his clinical detachment, made her feel acutely self-aware. She trembled as his hand moved around her breast in a long slow spiral. He brushed her nipple. She suppressed a small shudder. Having a stranger’s hands on her body in such a familiar way was almost unbearably uncomfortable. She sighed with relief when he finished and slipped the gown back up over her shoulder.