The gurney was pushed next to a stationary operating table in the center of the room, and the doctor helped the orderly shift Billy onto the raised platform. He listened with a stethoscope to Billy’s chest, checked his eyes with a penlight. His hands expertly prodded and probed the boy’s prone form, but Billy noticed nothing. He neither moved nor flinched, and he kept up the low insistent words he had been repeating since Doug found him.

Doug licked his dry lips. The doctor was busy. This would be a good time to call the police. He caught the eye of the orderly. “Is there a phone around here?” he asked. “I have to call the cops and tell them what happened.”

“There’s one out in the waiting room.”

The doctor finished his external examination of Billy’s body and said something to the nurse nearest him. He looked up at Doug and Tritia. “I will have to give him a thorough examination,” he said. “And I’ll have to take some X rays, perform a few standard tests.” The nurse handed him a pair of clear rubber gloves taken from an unopened package. “As you’re his parents, you may remain here if you wish, but it may be a little rough to watch.” He pulled on the gloves and picked up his penlight. Both nurses carefully rolled Billy over onto his stomach. Doug could see the smeared dirt on his son’s buttocks, and he turned away.

“I’ll stay,” Tritia said, giving his hand a small squeeze. “You go make your phone call.”

Doug nodded slowly. He really did have to call the police, but he was glad that he did, grateful to have that excuse to fall back on, and for that he felt guilty. He knew he should be there for Billy, but he could not watch the doctor examine his son. Tritia knew that, and this was her way of telling him it was okay. But he still felt awful about it. He had always been like this. He had not wanted to watch his son’s birth and had thrown up himself when Billy was an infant and had vomited on his shoulder. Sickness involving members of his family made him squeamish, particularly if it involved blood and bodily functions. He wished he didn’t feel this way, wished he could let it not affect him, the way Tritia did, but he had no control over his reactions. He had often wondered if this was a trait common to all fathers, and he thought that perhaps this was one reason why young children inevitably felt closer to their mothers and turned to their maternal parents when they needed comfort. After sharing bodies for nine months, mothers did not seem to mind a little blood or pain. It wasn’t as alien to them as it was to fathers.