Read by Louisa Gummer
I was lovesick, so I decided to see a specialist and get some medicine. I called the HMO, and the secretary told me that the specialist’s next available appointment was in two months.
“Don’t you have anything sooner? I’m suffering. I can’t wait for two months.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
I was ashamed to admit I was lovesick. I didn’t say anything.
“Ma’am, I asked you what’s the matter with you. If it’s urgent, you can go to the emergency room.”
“No, it’s okay. Give me an appointment. I’m not going to die of it.”
Meanwhile I decided to try alternative medicine. Somebody recommended a woman who did acupuncture. I called for an appointment. The acupuncturist had a soft, very comforting voice. She explained how to find her clinic. It was in a basement storeroom under a very ordinary building in a housing project from the nineteen-fifties. I walked down the poorly lit, slightly rancid stairway and knocked on a dark brown wooden door. A very tall woman opened it. Her body filled the entire doorway, and her head almost touched the low ceiling of the storeroom. She stooped, placed her heavy hands on my shoulders, and sat me down in a worn armchair.
“So, what’s your problem, dear?” she asked me sweetly. It was the same soft voice, coming from that gargantuan body.
I looked at her and was gripped by fear. Was I going to let this Amazon stick pins into my body? Was I going to admit to her that I was lovesick?
Then I thought to myself: I’d have to pay for the appointment in any event. This was not a woman who would let me go without paying, even if she didn’t make a single hole in me. So I might as well give it a try. I started telling her about the man I loved, who didn’t love me, and how much I suffered from longing for him, from desire for him, so much that I could barely work, barely function at all. I burst into tears. I couldn’t go on.
“Calm down, honey,” said the acupuncturist gently, handing me a roll of toilet paper so I could wipe my eyes. “I’ve taken care of cases a lot more severe than yours.”
“How?”
“After I stuck a few needles in them, they stopped loving completely.”
“But I don’t want to stop loving. I want to stop being lovesick. There’s a difference.”
“Take your choice. If you keep loving, you’ll be sick. If you get better, you’ll stop loving.”
I hesitated. I was dubious. My love for him was what gave meaning to my life. But a voice inside me said: “Why should you suffer when there’s no hope? Let her stick her needles in, because a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”
I wanted to ask the voice inside me what it meant by that, but I didn’t have time. The acupuncturist’s voice suddenly became deep and peremptory. She ordered me: “Take off your clothes and lie on the bed. Close your eyes. Relax.”
I stripped, lay down, closed my eyes, but I was about as relaxed as a ski jumper at the top of the ramp for the first time in her life. The giantess didn’t let that stop her. She stuck needle after needle into me, and my body convulsed with every jab. I began to wonder. Was there a single unpunctured place on my whole body? Was she a genuine acupuncturist? Were her needles sterile?
I opened my eyes and saw that she was staring at my body and licking her lips. Saliva was dripping down her chin. Drops of blood had accumulated around the needles that protruded from my body like toothpicks in slices of herring. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I wanted to get up and run away, but I was naked, and dozens of needles were sticking out of my body. The acupuncturist chuckled softly, and I fell into a deep sleep.
I dreamed that the man I loved, who didn't love me, entered the room to watch the acupuncturist at work. He was dressed as a groom, and she was wearing a bridal gown with a very low décolletage.
“See what I'm doing because I love you!” I told him.
He ignored me and whispered something to the huge acupuncturist. She kissed him and handed him an especially long needle.
“Put it in right there,” she said, pointing at my heart.
(c) Jeffrey Green, 2013
Jeffrey Green is a freelance literary and academic translator. He was born and raised in New York City and has lived in Jerusalem since 1973.
Louisa Gummer trained at Mountview. TV includes EastEnders (BBC1); The Sitcom Trials (ITV), various commercials and independent films including The Ultimate Truth (Best Foreign Film: Long Island). Theatre includes Girls’ Night (UK No1 Tour); Listen to My Heart (Brockley Jack); The Sitcom Trials (Edinburgh 2004/Tour). She’s also an experienced voice-over artist.
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