A tug of war ensued with Susan’s wrapping.
“I need one more full day, just one. Come on, Mark, one more. You can understand that it’s important for me. If I don’t get the charts today, which I think I won’t, then it’s all over. Besides, if I can see Berman, I’ll probably give up. Then you’ll have your normal medical student. But I need one more day.”
Bellows let go of the blankets. Susan fell back, one breast exposed in a fetching Amazonian way.
“All right, one more day. But if Stark is on rounds today, he’ll know that you are phantomizing. I wouldn’t be able to come up with any cover story. I hope you realize that.”
“Let’s just play it by ear, almighty surgeon. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Susan, I’ll just have to say that I had told you to be on rounds.”
“OK, have it your way. But I’m spending one more whole day on this thing. I’ve got some investment into it already.”
Susan snuggled into the warm bed. She barely heard the shower start in the bathroom. She thought she’d wait until Bellows finished before getting up.
When Susan awoke the second time, it was already quite light. Sudden gusts of wind blew rain against the window panes with a sound like rice hitting glass. With a contrariness typical of Boston weather, the wind had shifted during the night from northwest to due east. Thanks to the Gulf Stream, the temperature had risen into the high thirties, so precipitation was in the liquid rather than solid phase. The commuters were relieved, the skiers disgusted.
It was hard for Susan to believe the clock next to the bed, because it said almost nine. Bellows had showered, dressed, and exited without having reawakened her. Susan was amazed, for she was a relatively light sleeper. Just to be sure, she checked the bathroom and the living room for any sign that Bellows might still be there. She was alone.
Susan found a clean towel, then showered vigorously, remembering the previous night’s passion with a pleasant sense of warmth. Bellows had turned out to be a far more sensitive and innately generous lover than Susan had surmised. She was genuinely pleased, although she had some serious reservations about the relationship going very far. Bellows’s commitment to surgery seemed somehow too encompassing, as if everything else in his life would necessarily be relegated to a secondary position like a hobby.
In the refrigerator, Susan found some cheese and an orange. She helped herself to Grapenuts and toast while thumbing through the Yellow Pages. Checking to be sure that she had everything, she left Bellows’s apartment, locking the door securely behind her. It was going to be a busy day.
The rain had let up significantly by the time Susan hit the street. The weather did not appear to be clearing, but now it would be more pleasant to walk about. Susan turned left up Mt. Vernon toward the State House. She crossed the Boston Common at its northern tip and entered the downtown shopping area.
Of all the young girls who had come to the Boston Uniform Company retail store seeking a nurse’s uniform, the salesman found Susan the easiest and fastest customer. She seemed totally uninterested in the bewildering permutations of the plain white dress. She asked for size ten and told the salesman that any size ten would do.
“We have this style here which you might like,” he said, bringing out one uniform.
Susan took the dress and held it against herself as she looked into the mirror.
“The changing rooms are in the back if you’d like to try it.”
“I’ll take it.”
The salesman was stunned if gratified at the speed of the sale.
The rain started again half-heartedly as Susan walked up Washington Street toward Government Center. As she reached the middle of the bricked mall in front of the ultra-geometric City Hall, the wind brought in another moisture-laden cloud over the city. As the rain came down in earnest Susan ran for cover.
The girl at the information booth told Susan that the building department was on the eighth floor. It was easy to find. Once there, though, things were different. Susan waited for twenty-five minutes at the main counter only to be told that she was at the wrong place. This happened twice before she was directed to the rear of the vast room. There was another wait of a quarter of an hour despite the fact she was the only customer. Behind the counter were five desks, of which three were occupied. Two men and one woman. The two men looked surprisingly alike, with large red noses, plastic black-rimmed glasses, and tasteless ties. They were engaged in a heated argument about the Patriots. The woman had a ratted hairdo recalling the early sixties and shocking red lipstick that used the natural lip borders only as suggestions. She was engrossed with a pocket mirror, examining her face from every possible angle.