If anyone came within a hundred yards of me, he would either show a bare back or be burned down.
XI
I had to tell somebody about it and Doris was the goat. It may have been classified information but I did not give a hoot. It turned out that Doris knew all about Operation Parasite; there was no reason to try to keep any part of it secret. The trouble was to make it not a secret—but I am ahead of myself.
Doris was indignant—shucks, she was sore as a boiled owl. She had dressed what they had done to me. Of course, as a nurse, she had dressed a lot worse, but this had been done by our own people. I blurted out how I felt about Mary’s part in it. “You know that old slaughterhouse trick,” I asked her, “where they train one animal to lead the others in? That’s what they got Mary to do to me.”
She had not heard of it, but she understood me. “Do I understand you that you had wanted to marry this girl?”
“Correct. Stupid, ain’t I?”
“All men are, about women—but that’s not the point. It does not make any difference whether she wanted to marry you or not; her knowing that you wanted to marry her makes what she did about eight thousand times worse. She knew what she could do to you. It wasn’t fair.” She stopped massaging me, her eyes snapping. “I’ve never met your redhead, not yet—but if I ever do, I’ll scratch her face!”
I smiled at her. “You’re a good kid, Doris. I believe you would play fair with a man.”
“Oh, I’m no angel, and I’ve pulled some fast ones in my time. But if I did anything halfway like that. I’d have to break every mirror I own. Turn a bit, and I’ll get the other leg.”
Mary showed up. The first I knew about it was hearing Doris say angrily, “You can’t come in.”
Mary’s voice answered, “I’m going in. Try to stop me.”
Doris squealed, “Stay where you are—or I’ll pull that hennaed hair out by the roots!”
There was a short silence, sounds of a scuffle—and the smack! of someone getting slapped, hard. I yelled out, “Hey! What goes on?”
They appeared in the doorway together. Doris was breathing hard and her hair was mussed. Mary managed to look dignified and composed, but there was a bright red patch on her left cheek the size and shape of Doris’s hand. She looked at me and ignored the nurse.
Doris caught her breath and said, “You get out of here. He doesn’t want to see you.”
Mary said, “I’ll hear that from him.”
I looked at them both, then said, “Oh, what the hell—Doris, she’s here; I’ll talk to her. I’ve got some things to tell her, in any case. Thanks for trying.”
Doris waited a moment, then said, “You’re a fool!” and flounced out.
Mary came over to the bed. “Sam,” she said. “Sam.”
“My name isn’t ‘Sam’.”
“I’ve never known your right name.”
I hesitated. It was no time to explain to her that my parents had been silly enough to burden me with ‘Elihu’. I answered, “What of it? ‘Sam’ will do.”
“Sam,” she repeated. “Oh Sam, my dear.”
“I am not your ‘dear’.”
She inclined her head. “Yes, I know that. I don’t know why. Sam, I came here to find out why you hate me. Perhaps I can’t change it, but I must know why.”
I made some sound of disgust. “After what you did, you don’t know why? Mary, you may be a cold fish, but you aren’t stupid. I know; I’ve worked with you.”
She shook her head. “Just backwards, Sam. I’m not cold, but I’m frequently stupid. Look at me, please—I know what they did to you. I know that you let it be done to save me from the same thing. I know that and I’m deeply grateful. But I don’t know why you hate me. You did not have to do it, I did not ask you to do it, and I did not want you to do it.”
I didn’t answer; presently she said, “You don’t believe me?”