The Allegorical Doctor

image curtesy of the Public Domain Review

by Genevieve Abravanel

The allegorical doctor has a bottle. A cloudy glass vessel with dark syrup inside. “This is the cure for what ails you. Your liver, for instance.”  

“There’s nothing wrong with my liver.” Julia clutches her purse. Gucci, green snake skin, off-season, on sale.  

“Just an example.”  

“How much does it cost?” Julia will not tell Ted. She’ll use her private money.  

“Everything and nothing.”  

Julia hesitates. Considers Dr. Friedrich with his half-moon glasses and tweed jacket. His weathered hands rest on a leather desk set. Must be selling a lot of these magic bottles. Fine, maybe she should give him a chance. 

“I’m not so sure what’s wrong with me.”  

He shrugs. “Living is hard.”  

She slouches. “Yes.” If only Ted got her the way Dr. Friedrich seems to.  

“The existential condition.” The doctor removes his half-moon spectacles. His eyes are cloudy, rheumy, like the bottle. He touches a finger to the glass. “Here’s your treatment.”  

“And does it work?”  

“Yes and no.”  

Julia does not take shit. She doesn’t. Not even at home, where Ted pounds on the bathroom door because he’s got to get ready for his real job. The harder he pounds, the slower she pats on her makeup, the fuller she makes her cherry lips. She has a job, too. Ted smolders as she pushes past him into the living room, but she handles him fine. She’s not about to start taking shit from this doctor.  

“I want a straight answer. And a free sample.” Julia stretches across the desk and palms the bottle. It fits nicely in her hand. “Do I drink it?”  

“No.” He smiles. “That’s your first straight answer.”  

“A skin cream, then? Aromatherapy?” 

“It’s just for looking at.”  

“What the fuck,” says Julia. 

“And talking about.”   

“Nuh uh.” 

“As we are doing now.”  

She hands back the bottle. “I’m not paying for this.” 

“You will owe nothing but your co-pay.” Dr. Friedrich settles the bottle on the shelf behind him. He stands, indicating that she should go.  

Julia stares for a moment, then rises and clasps her purse. With a small smile, Dr. Friedrich ushers her out. 

Julia’s not happy about billing her insurance for this. They’d better have the right codes up front. She’s not getting tangled up in paperwork.  

At checkout, she slams her card on the counter. That was one messed-up doctor. And Ted thought she needed her head examined. Ted should see this guy with his framed diplomas. 

Everyone knows potions are for drinking, even in fucking fairy tales.  

It feels good to bathe in this righteous anger. To know she’s the reasonable one. That her head’s on tighter than the Dr. Friedrich, no matter how sterling his reputation, how perfect his desk set. Actually, she thinks as she walks out, preparing her story for the girls at work, she does feel a little better.  

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