for my handbag, grateful to have something to do. “I’ve brought a towel!”
But there was no stain. There was no blood at all. (All those horseback rides in childhood, I suppose, had already done the puncturing job for me. Thanks, Mother!) To my great relief, I didn’teven feel much pain.
“Now, Vivian,” he instructed, “you will want to avoid taking a bath for the next two days, as it could create infection. It’s quite all right for you to clean yourself, but just splash about—do not soak. If you find that you have any discharge or discomfort, Gladys or Celia can recommend a vinegar douche for you. But you’re a big strong healthy girl, and I don’t expect youto run into any difficulties. You did well here today. I’m proud of you.”
I half expected him to give me a lollipop.
As we dressed, Dr. Kellogg chatted away about the fine weather. Had I taken notice last month of the peonies in bloom in Gramercy Park? No, I told him, I hadn’t even been living in New York City as of last month. Well, he instructed, I must take notice of the peonies next year,for they are in bloom such a short while, you know, and then they are gone. (Maybe this seems like too obvious a commentary on my own “short-lasting bloom”—but let’s not give Dr. Kellogg that much credit for poetry or pathos. I think he just really liked peonies.)
“Let me show you out, my little duckling,” he said, walking me back down the stairs, and through the doily-strewn living room, towardthe servants’ entrance. As we passed by the kitchen, he took an envelope off the table and handed it to me.
“A token of my appreciation,” he said.
I knew it was money, and I couldn’t bear it.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t, Harold,” I said.
“Oh, but you must.”
“No, I couldn’t,” I said. “I couldn’t possibly .”
“Oh, but I insist .”
“Oh, but I mustn’t .”
My objection, I have to tell you, was not that Ididn’t want to be regarded as a prostitute. (Don’t think so highly of me as all that!) It was more a matter of deeply ingrained social politeness. My parents provided an allowance for me every week, you see, which Aunt Peg gave to me on Wednesdays, so I truly did not need Dr. Kellogg’s money. Also, some puritanical voice within me told me that I had not quite earned this money. I didn’t know muchabout sex, but I couldn’t imagine that I’d shown this man much of a good time. A girl who lies down on her back with her arms straight at her sides, not moving whatsoever other than to attack you with her mouth every time you speak—she can’t be much fun in the sack, right? If I were going to be paid for sex, I’d want to have done something worth paying for.
“Vivian, I demand that you take this,”he said.
“Harold, I refuse.”
“Vivian, I really must insist that you do not make a scene,” he said, frowning slightly, and pushing the envelope toward me with force—this moment constituting the closest I’d come to danger or excitement at the hands of Dr. Harold Kellogg.
“Very well,” I said, and I took the money.
(And how do you like that, my fancy ancestors? Cash for sex, and on the first runout of the gate, no less!)
“You are a lovely young girl,” he said. “And please don’t be concerned: there is still plenty of time for your breasts to fill out.”
“Thank you, Harold,” I said.
“If you drink eight ounces of buttermilk a day, it should help them to grow.”
“Thank you, I will do that,” I said, with no intention whatsoever of drinking eight ounces of buttermilk a day.
I was aboutto step out the door, but then I suddenly had to know.
“Harold,” I said, “may I ask what kind of doctor you are?”
It was my supposition that he was either a gynecologist or a pediatrician. I was leaning toward pediatrician. I just wanted to settle the bet in my own head.
“I’m a veterinarian, my dear girl,” he said. “Now, please send my warmest regards to Gladys and Celia, and do not
But there was no stain. There was no blood at all. (All those horseback rides in childhood, I suppose, had already done the puncturing job for me. Thanks, Mother!) To my great relief, I didn’teven feel much pain.
“Now, Vivian,” he instructed, “you will want to avoid taking a bath for the next two days, as it could create infection. It’s quite all right for you to clean yourself, but just splash about—do not soak. If you find that you have any discharge or discomfort, Gladys or Celia can recommend a vinegar douche for you. But you’re a big strong healthy girl, and I don’t expect youto run into any difficulties. You did well here today. I’m proud of you.”
I half expected him to give me a lollipop.
As we dressed, Dr. Kellogg chatted away about the fine weather. Had I taken notice last month of the peonies in bloom in Gramercy Park? No, I told him, I hadn’t even been living in New York City as of last month. Well, he instructed, I must take notice of the peonies next year,for they are in bloom such a short while, you know, and then they are gone. (Maybe this seems like too obvious a commentary on my own “short-lasting bloom”—but let’s not give Dr. Kellogg that much credit for poetry or pathos. I think he just really liked peonies.)
“Let me show you out, my little duckling,” he said, walking me back down the stairs, and through the doily-strewn living room, towardthe servants’ entrance. As we passed by the kitchen, he took an envelope off the table and handed it to me.
“A token of my appreciation,” he said.
I knew it was money, and I couldn’t bear it.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t, Harold,” I said.
“Oh, but you must.”
“No, I couldn’t,” I said. “I couldn’t possibly .”
“Oh, but I insist .”
“Oh, but I mustn’t .”
My objection, I have to tell you, was not that Ididn’t want to be regarded as a prostitute. (Don’t think so highly of me as all that!) It was more a matter of deeply ingrained social politeness. My parents provided an allowance for me every week, you see, which Aunt Peg gave to me on Wednesdays, so I truly did not need Dr. Kellogg’s money. Also, some puritanical voice within me told me that I had not quite earned this money. I didn’t know muchabout sex, but I couldn’t imagine that I’d shown this man much of a good time. A girl who lies down on her back with her arms straight at her sides, not moving whatsoever other than to attack you with her mouth every time you speak—she can’t be much fun in the sack, right? If I were going to be paid for sex, I’d want to have done something worth paying for.
“Vivian, I demand that you take this,”he said.
“Harold, I refuse.”
“Vivian, I really must insist that you do not make a scene,” he said, frowning slightly, and pushing the envelope toward me with force—this moment constituting the closest I’d come to danger or excitement at the hands of Dr. Harold Kellogg.
“Very well,” I said, and I took the money.
(And how do you like that, my fancy ancestors? Cash for sex, and on the first runout of the gate, no less!)
“You are a lovely young girl,” he said. “And please don’t be concerned: there is still plenty of time for your breasts to fill out.”
“Thank you, Harold,” I said.
“If you drink eight ounces of buttermilk a day, it should help them to grow.”
“Thank you, I will do that,” I said, with no intention whatsoever of drinking eight ounces of buttermilk a day.
I was aboutto step out the door, but then I suddenly had to know.
“Harold,” I said, “may I ask what kind of doctor you are?”
It was my supposition that he was either a gynecologist or a pediatrician. I was leaning toward pediatrician. I just wanted to settle the bet in my own head.
“I’m a veterinarian, my dear girl,” he said. “Now, please send my warmest regards to Gladys and Celia, and do not
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