Temple University School of Medicine - Skull Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

Page 18 text:

14

Page 17 text:

and street traditions 13

Page 19 text:

NO SIMONE UNTURNED by MATT COHES It was hot. The sun beat down on the streets 'til the tar ran in little black Amazons. I My clothes were sticking to me as close as my landlord on rent day. I was watching a cockroach explore my baseboard and debating whether or not to shoot it when they came into my office, a couple, both in their sixties. The guy was wearing a ton of gold: three chains around his neck, rings on the four fingers of his left hand and cufflinks. His tailored navy suit could have kept me in Wild Turkey for a year. His wife looked like she'd been strapped to the front of the Broad Street line for a ride. Her blonde hair twisted above her head like the smoke from a sewer. Her dress, a velour shift, had become lopsided, riding up high over her left shoulder and sagging down the righi.Or maybe she was a hunchback. I didn't much care. They stared uneasily at my office. It isn't the Hilton, but it's home. The desk is propped under one leg by an old Converse high-top sneaker, black. The carpet is worn down to some indescribable color and the hardwood floor pokes through in places like a case of measles. The walls are lined with a bunch of cheap paintings that were there when I moved in. I didn't much care for them and the bullet holes in them were my critical statement. Their attention came back to me. They shuddered. Mr. Gold Chains seemed to make up his mind and cleared his throat. Goldblatt? In the very flesh, I replied wittily. We, that is. my wife and I have a problem. Have you tried Masters and Johnson?” He grimaced. Mr. Goldblatt. this is very difficult for me. Please don't make it any worse. I waved my hand mindlessly in the air. a vague gesture of apology. I'd been doing that a lot lately, waving my hands aimlessly. Maybe my brain was turning into Maypo. He stared at his shoes for a second, gathered himself together, and began again. We're the Diamonds. Mr. Goldblatt. Three years ago our daughter Simone entered medical school at Temple. We haven’t seen her since. We want you to find her and bring her back. So that was it. Another chase after some wimp playing doctor. I'd done a tracer on a kid missing from Penn two years ago. with horrible results. After looking for a month. I'd finally found him in Pittsburgh curled up in an alley with a fifth of Banker's Club gin, mumbling something about the branches of the abdominal aorta. I refocused on the Diamonds. I should warn you. I said. I've done this sort of work before. The results weren't pretty. Mrs. Diamond spoke for the first time. We don't care Mr. Goldblatt. She could be working as a secretary. She could be the french fry girl at McDonalds. All we want to know is that our baby is all right. The growl in my stomach and the slight tremor in my hands told me that it was time for lunch. The Old Grandad or the Cutty Sark today? Decisions, decisions. The Diamonds were interfering with my day. Okay. I'll look for your Simone. If I do find her. you get her back in whatever condition I find her. assuming she wants to come home. I run a hundred dollars a day and I don't go the Burger King route. Do we understand each other? The Diamonds looked relieved. Mr. Diamond stood up and said. Perfectly understood. We can only hope for the best. They began to put on their coats when I remembered a small detail. Do you have a recent picture of Simone. I said, from the last five years? Mrs. Diamond got out her purse, dug around a bit and extracted a three by five of my quarry. Not a bad-looking kid. if your tastes ran that way. deep brown curly hair, oval luminescent brown eyes and full, pouting lips. Simone, where were you? I told the Diamonds that I'd be in touch. They shuffled out of the door. I considered the options facing me to start on the case instantly and find this yo-yo. or spend the rest of the day getting stupid. It turned out not to be a difficult choice. I awoke to find sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window. I wondered why sunlight always streamed. Did it ever hippity-hop. or bound, or even hobble on a bad day’ I decided these were questions best left unanswered. I propped myself up and wondered how I had gotten back to my apartment. I flirted with the idea that I'd been beamed here by aliens. It seemed unlikely. I managed to get into a half-stoop and loped into the bathroom, looking and feeling like the Neanderthal man. A hot shower and a shave later and I'd ascended the evolutionary tree again. Three cups of coffee and a quick look at the paper and I was ready to face the world. I headed uptown in my '75 Valiant. The sun filtered down through the rust holes in the roof. When I got to Temple's hospital and med school I parked my car in the lot. crossed Broad Street again, putting me in front of the school. Kresge Hall, a plaque on the building said. I wondered who Kresge was. I went over to a hot dog stand and got a coffee, black, from the truant inside the metal box. He asked if there was anything else. Yeah. I said. Who's Kresge? The kid shrugged. He had a nice shrug. I went inside. A security desk faced me immediately inside the lobby and a bank of elevators stood to the left. I didn't want to hassle with the bored-looking guard behind the desk, so I did something medical I took my pulse. The guard seemed unimpressed. I walked past, counting and looking at my watch, the way they do on TV (Continued on page 29) 15