Page 52 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
“Nope.” Mitch cut him off short. “Happy to take a scar. It’ll be good for business.”
“As long as no one finds out how you got it,” the doctor said.
In the tense silence that followed, the words hovered between them. Guys like Mitch weren’t used to people calling them out. Maybe they’d get “canceled” by Twitter. But few people had the balls to tell a man Mitch’s size what they really thought to his face.
“I bet you’re wondering why someone like me moved to your hometown.” Dr. Chokshi waited, but Mitch wouldn’t take the bait. “No? Well, your friend Mr. Walsh didn’t hesitate to ask. He seemed to think I came here to bomb the Walmart. I assured him that I didn’t leave the Empire State Building behind so I could blow up a fucking discount store in south Georgia.”
“What thehell?” Mitch responded with unfeigned surprise. “Logan called you a terrorist? Shit, I’m sorry to hear that. I just met him yesterday, and it is quickly becoming apparent that the little fucker ain’t right. For the record, I did not ask where you’re from ’cause I think you’re a terrorist. I happen to love Indian food.”
“Yeah? What’s your favorite dish?”
“I’ve been to India a few times. Never ate a single shitty thing while I was there. But if you want to know my favorite, it was probably the kosha mangsho in West Bengal.”
“Sure it wasn’t the tikka masala?”
“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you? That shit’s British. Just because I’m from here doesn’t mean I’m a moron.”
“So I guess you got this gash on your head by acting like an intelligent, fair-minded adult.”
“Itoldyou I was protecting my heritage. By the way, if you got a problem with people like me, I got news for you. This town is full of us.”
Dr. Chokshi had been waiting for the conversation to return to Troy. “Which brings us back to the reason I’m here. I moved to this lovely town because one of the last GPs in Troy died of old age two and a half years ago, and they couldn’t find a single person to take his job. Not asingle one. His former patients weren’t getting the care they needed. A couple of old folks died needlessly. It got so bad that an organization offered to pay off a new doctor’s student loans if they took over the old guy’s practice. For a long time, there were no takers.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone take the job?”
“Well, first, it pays shit. Though believe it or not, there are doctors out there who aren’t in this line of work for the money. But the do-gooder types didn’t want the job, either. You know why?”
“No.”
“Because of that statue you were fighting for—and what it represents.”
“What itrepresents? We look at that statue and see our forefathers who died fighting an invading army. We see bravery and honor. That’s what it represents.”
“Okay. Let’s say that’s one hundred percent true. Now let me tell you what the rest of the world sees. We see the statue of a man who owned hundreds of human beings and fought a war to keep them. And we see people living almost two hundred years later who wantthat manstanding outside their county courthouse. The courthouse where every Americanis supposed to be treated equally. So I guess you could say the rest of the world sees that statue as a message, which, if you’ve ever read anything about Augustus Wainwright, you’d know isexactlywhat he intended it to be. Wainwright put it there so the Black people who actuallybuiltthe courthouse would know they’d never be given a fair shake in this town. And so people who look like me would know we’re not welcome.”
Mitch crossed his arms and winced while the doctor administered the lidocaine. “Well, I am sorry if that’s what y’all think. But we don’t have to give up our history because it makes you feel uncomfortable.”
“And I’m sorry that when I’m gone, your town might just have to make do without a doctor because nobody outside of Troy can read your fucking minds and see that all your thoughts are peaceful and pure and full of love for the illustrious Augustus Wainwright, who you claim wasn’t a terrible person despite the fact that he bought and sold human beings.”
As Mitch sulked, Dr. Chokshi began the stiches. He’d sealed up half of the gash before Mitch spoke again.
“So you came down here to live with all us backward racists just to pay off your student loans?”
“Wait,youlive here?” the doctor shot back. “Thought I read somewhere that you make your home in the Hollywood Hills.”
“The ex got the house in the divorce,” Mitch grumbled. “I’m buying a place while I’m here.”
“Wonderful! Let me be the first to welcome you to the community.” Dr. Chokshi was starting to enjoy himself. “I know it’s been a while since you lived down south, but you can’t believe what people say about us. Aside from a few notable exceptions, one of whom was just sitting in my waiting room, most people here are friendly and welcoming. Just like my dad told me they’d be.”
Mitch kept his head still while he rolled his eyes upward to meet the doctor’s. “I thought you said your dad lives in Queens.”
“He does. But when he was a young obstetrician, he spent three years working in a town like Troy. I grew up hearing all about it and wishing Icould have the same kind of experience. Good works are a big part of our religion. Plus my whole family loves country music.”
“Oh yeah?” Mitch sounded skeptical. “Who’s your favorite?”
“Johnny Cash.”
“He’s the man,” Mitch said.
