S T Vasectomy Clinic - (11)

 

Alistair nodded. ‘Yes, she does get muddled sometimes.’

 

‘Anyway, you made the right decision, we’re very professional here. So this is something you’ve been thinking about for a while is it?’

 

Alistair raised his clenched fist to his mouth and made a loud, forced cough. ‘I suppose it’s something that many men must think about, yes.’

 

Cece got up from her chair and walked slowly around the room. There was a large bouquet of flowers in the corner of her desk in shades of dark reds, purples and pinks, she used both hands to jiggle them up and down and tidy them a little. ‘Your wife didn’t come along with you this evening?’

 

‘Yes, no’ Alistair nodded. ‘She wanted to but she had...a rash.’ That sounded odd, he thought to himself and immediately regretted not having a rehearsed answer to this question. 

 

There was a pause while Cece looked out of the window. It seemed to Alistair that there was a strange atmosphere in the consulting room which clearly doubled up as an office. The cabinets were stacked neatly with box files, a shelf arranged in year order and another arranged in alphabetical order, A-H, I-P, Q-Z. That must refer to the names of clients, he thought and pictured his own paperwork in the last file, under the letter W. Briefly he imagined the word 'complications' on his report along with a bloody thumbprint in the top corner but he quickly banished that thought.

 

Cece sat down again. ‘Well I’m glad you chose us,’ she said as she gathered up a bundle of leaflets from a tray on her desk. ‘Recently there’s been a bit of bad press about the procedure of male sterilisation.’

 

Alistair shuffled forwards to the edge of his seat. ‘Has there?’

 

‘A bit. Sometimes it’s good to do some research but you can do too much research.’

 

‘I did do..a bit.’

 

‘It’s okay, some people do lots and some don’t do any,' she said, flashing a false smile. 'That’s what I’m here for. I can assure you that if you did, read something negative, that is, dig a little deeper you will find that in the rare cases of complications arising, the surgery almost without exception took place in publicly funded clinics. Standards have slipped since my husband and I were in that sector. There’s a lot of apathy, inconsistent standards and inexperienced practitioners. We call it rough surgery and it’s not something that could ever happen here, indeed my husband lectures all over the world to prevent such malpractice.’ 

 

She pushed the bundle of leaflets across the desk towards Alistair who looked pale now. Cece had noticed his change in pallor and it pleased her somewhat. ‘Do you have children Alistair?’

 

‘Yes, yes,’ he nodded, ‘two boys, grown up now, well sort of grown up, in as much as they can be.’

 

Cece’s face dropped a little, she took a deep breath. ‘That is nice,’ she said, smiling a false smile now. ‘I’m assuming you’ve thought long and hard about the prospect of not being able to have more?’

 

Alistair shrugged. ‘Nothing to think about really. At my age the thought of doing all that again is well, unthinkable to be honest.’

 

‘So, if you met a twenty year old woman on your way home tonight, your ideal woman, whoever that is, and she asked you to move in with her and told you she loved you and desperately wanted your children. Would you still go ahead with the procedure, if it was scheduled for, say next week?’

 

‘Pardon?’

 

‘Sorry, I have to ask these questions to make sure you’ve thought about it thoroughly. Now, I’m giving these leaflets to you to browse at your leisure with your family of course. In a moment I will send in my colleague, Dr Jai Harvey. He’s going to give you a brief examination in the adjacent room there, then just a few more questions from me. I’ll ask you to sign a non-binding document and we’ll take it from there.’ She again exposed her set of perfect, white teeth but her dead eyes gave away her insincerity as she left the room.

 

 

Alistair sat there feeling prone. It seemed ridiculous that somebody was about to examine him, observe his genitals on what was just an ordinary day. The leaflets were printed with photographs of couples holding hands, smiling at each other, walking on a beach, sitting on a park bench, looking happy, looking as if they were having endless carefree sexual intercourse.

 

Cece walked past the reception desk, instructing the admin girls to send through Dr Harvey then she went to her husband’s consulting room. Dr St John Hughes was dressed in a white coat with his back to the door, tidying up his equipment, very slowly and methodically. This was something he’d done so many hundreds of times before that it was now a type of meditation. There was no need to think, he could drift away and watch his hands moving shiny silver scalpels and emptying dishes of body tissue into the incinerator bin.

 

He could tell it was Cece at the door, from the way she turned the handle, the way she stood there in silence, the small size of her presence in which he sensed as a spirit of potential mischief. She sometimes wanted to harm him and he knew it. His attention turned more intensely to his hands and his movements became more deliberate, more pronounced. 

 

‘My seven o’clock is just being examined by Jai,’ she said, closing the door.

 

St John turned around very slowly, his expensive shoes made a shuffling sound on the floor. ‘Is Faith here?’

 

‘I haven’t seen her.’

 

He made a deep grunting sound followed by a cough. It was his voice which had won Cece’s affections all those years ago. It was a deep, resonating voice, reassuring and strong, it filled the room, indeed at times it almost seemed to shake the room, parting the air like a dark, invisible force. His voice hadn’t changed at all and Cece was excited about the prospect of their new baby becoming familiar with its father’s voice.

 

In fact she’d had an idea about creating a recording of both their voices, along with the mundane sounds of their home. She was going to send it along to the agency to give to Yulia so that she could play it to the growing baby inside her. The whole thing would have to be done covertly though since St John was bound to be against it. She had already purchased a quality sound recording device.

 

‘Do you need me, St John?’