Page 51 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
“Come on in, Mr. Sweeney.” Dr. Chokshi held the door open.
Once, while kayaking in Alaska, he’d encountered an orca. It swam beside him for a second or two, but that was long enough to be humbled by its size. He was reminded of the experience as Mitch marched into the exam room. He’d seen the man in a dozen movies. On-screen, he was an imposing presence. In person, Mitch was fucking enormous. The doctor almost considered leaving the door open. He didn’t relish the thought of being alone with a giant who’d just knocked a prom queen cold and traveled with a Nazi escort. But he took a deep breath and closed the door.
“How are you this evening, Mr. Sweeney?” What else did you say? Back home you could be brusque. Here, there was protocol to observe.
“She gonna be okay?”
“Excuse me?”
“Bella Cummings. Is she gonna be okay?”
He looked just as ashamed as he should have. This was a whole new role for Mitch Sweeney.
“I can’t really discuss other patients,” Dr. Chokshi said. “But I wouldn’t have let her go home if I thought she was in any danger.”
Mitch nodded his head and stared at the floor. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to tackle the girl.”
“No,” the doctor replied. “From what I’ve heard, you were attempting to take down the seventeen-year-old high school valedictorian.” Guys like Mitch were too used to people letting them off easy. He wasn’t going to get away with that shit in Dr. Chokshi’s exam room.
“Yeah,” Mitch said, but he didn’t sound proud.
The doctor turned to the sink to wash his hands. “And this was all over a statue?”
“It’s not just astatue.” The word was like a match to a pilot light. Mitch’s famously volatile personality flared up. “It’s about our heritage and our history. You’re not from here. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Dr. Chokshi pulled on his rubber gloves. “Heritage and history meannothingwhere I come from.” As he began unwrapping the bandage around the movie star’s forehead, he could feel the man twitching. There was something Mitch desperately wanted to ask. The doctor was surprised he was holding back.
“Wheredoyou come from?”
Dr. Chokshi smiled. Mitch knew better, but he’d gone ahead anyway. Over the past few months, the doctor had heard the same question a hundred times. Sometimes the way it was phrased was clearly hostile. But Mitch sounded genuinely curious. “Queens,” the doctor answered. “It’s in New York City.”
“I know that,” Mitch said. “I meantoriginally.”
“I’m from Jackson Heights, Queens. Born and raised. I attended Queens High School for the Sciences and I will root for the Mets till the day I die.”
“Humpf.” There was always ahumpf. “Where are your parents from?”
“Queens,” Dr. Chokshi said. “Also born and raised. If you’re inquiring about my ancestry, my ancestors lived in India. What about yours?”
“Ireland, mostly,” said Mitch. “That’s where the Sweeney name comes from, anyways. Got some Scots in the mix as well.”
“Yeah, and when did they come over?” One of the surprising things Dr. Chokshi had discovered during his time in Troy was how much white peoplelovedbeing asked that question. Talk to one shortly after their 23andMe results had come in, and the conversation could go on for hours.
“They all made their way here at different times. Some branches go way back in America. Got a lot of people who came over during the potato famine.”
“What an amazing country this is, am I right?” Dr. Chokshi said. “Do you think our ancestors could have imagined that the two of us would meet in the middle of Georgia?”
Mitch snorted. “Probably not,” he said.
And he’d been doing so well, the doctor thought as he revealed the wound. “Quite a gash you got here. I need to clean you up a bit, but looks like you’re going to need about a dozen stitches and a tetanus shot. Do you know if you’re allergic to lidocaine?”
“Doubt it,” Mitch said. “These are hardly the first stitches I’ve ever got.”
“Well then, you know it’s probably a good idea to drive up to Atlanta tomorrow and get a plastic surgeon to take a look.”
“You thinking I’ll have a scar?”
“Most likely,” Dr. Chokshi told him. “Though a plastic surgeon—”
