Judy's Elbow

When Jack Belicec summoned me to the basement of his downtown business I was just completing an examination of Judy Hinkell, the mayor's special assistant. I had known Judy for years, dating back to when she was a college student eager to change the world. No one who knew Judy could ever accuse her of lacking a personality.

The woman I examined was a stranger.

She was identical to Judy in every way, right down to a crescent-shaped scar on the inside of her left elbow. Ten years ago she had tripped on a stairwell at City Hall and caught herself on a loose nail in the bannister. I stitched the wound. I knew the scar because I helped minimize it. Now I was looking at its doppelganger.

"Is something wrong, Dr. Bennell?" she asked, her tone somewhere between smoke and a murmur.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if something was wrong," she repeated. "With my elbow, that is. You keep staring at it."

Before I could answer -- before I could catch air to alleviate the pounding of my heart -- the phone rang. Sally called in from the reception desk: "It's Jack Belicec, doctor. Says it's urgent."

I mumbled an excuse to the bland imitation of Judy Hinkell, who looked at me without blinking. "I understand, Dr. Bennell," she said. "Jack Belicec has an emergency. You should find out what happened." There was no lilt in her voice, no cadence. If there was a trace of emotional individuality inside this breathing being, it was well hidden.

"Thank you, Judy," I replied, trying to match the calm in her voice. "And I'm sorry for staring at your elbow. I must have -- "

"Don't worry, Dr. Bennell." She was already moving to the exam room door. "You're probably just tired. Everything will be much better once you get a good night's sleep."

Stop with the sleep talk! I wanted to scream at her slack features. But instead I remained silent, only nodded, and once she was out the door I threw on my own coat and sped over to Jack's business, Belicec Spas.