Mary, Mary

Prose Runner-Up of the Surging Tide Summer Writing Contest
Selected by aureleo sans

​The rhythm of "Mary, Mary" is hypnotic and pitchperfect for the subject matter. It is rare that I see a novel storytelling form do such a wonderful job of amplifying character as well as a story’s setting. Pols deftly immerses the reader in our narrator’s day to day and artfully weaves together threads regarding work life, family tragedy, and Frankenstein(!) into a riveting and poignant read. -aureleo sans

Tuesday. Snow. Walk to work in the slush. Dark out. Entry-way wet. Donnelly unhappy with quality of Seven’s work this morning. Have to redo it. 

Body documented okay. Go over the pictures carefully and redo notes. Annoying not to be able to look at the untouched body. Cuts were sloppy, but nothing to be done. Seven had already removed the heart. Intestines unhealthy but not deadly. Hold the spleen in hand. Shelley’s Frankenstein scavenged body parts in rooms like this. Both dissections and slaughters. 

Put the spleen back. Body comes in from Newport. Finish efficiently. New body is young. Makes Anderson sad. Clean and photograph without them. They come out of the bathroom before the first incision. Cut. On the 16 of June, 1822, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley miscarried and nearly bled out. 

Anderson does well the rest of the body. Car accident. No alcohol. Rest of day boring.

Walk home. Getting colder. Winter wind and early morning sunlight. Wash hair and close blinds. Sleep early.


Wednesday. Clear. Stars bright. Get coffee on way to work. 

No bodies in. Seven’s left sticky note doodles all over the place. Answer emails. Find a sticky note with a bad sketch of the Vitruvian Man. Donnelly shows Anderson pictures of the Alps from honeymoon.

Anderson clearly bored. Donnelly’s Alps have no sense of the sublime.

On Mont Blanc the Creation twice encountered Frankenstein.

Nothing comes in all day. Donnelly leaves early but pretends not to.


Thursday. Snow. 

Body already in, around six p.m. Seven finished the body, but not the paperwork. One of the residents on Seven’s shift emailed about switching to night. Forward to Donnelly.

Finish paperwork. No bodies. Light week. Unusual this time of year.

Read through accident reports online. Answer phone. Examiner in Fairview with question about unusual liver scarring. Tell him our pathologist is out, should call Riverside.

Pick up pizza on way home. New place. Breadsticks good, crust good, sauce bad.


Friday. Off. Fail to sleep in.

Read medical journals. Go for long walk.

Breakfast with Mom in early morning. Tired already. She treats, her favorite cafe. Old circus posters on walls. Says she doesn’t know anything about them. Stare at woman in yellow tutu riding elephant.

Tells me her mother isn’t doing well. Unhappy when I ask about symptoms, has no pictures of charts on hand. Promise to visit hospital soon.

Crash immediately when home.


Saturday. Off. Cold but no snow.

Chandler wants to go out. Tell her yes.

Look up hospital visiting hours. Chandler comes over, dresses me from my closet. Can’t pregame because assumed she would bring alcohol and she assumed I had it. 

First club bad. Second better. Chandler tells people I’m a doctor. Have to clarify. One girl says, “That’s still an M.D., though.” Tell her yes. Room is dark and bright. Can see shape of skull under her face.

Drop Chandler home. Drunker than me. Wander back. Only three. Hours before I sleep. Hate feeling day drunk, even at night. Starts to snow.


Sunday. Off. Up early to catch hospital hours. Take bus.

Grandma is awake but doesn’t talk much. Look at charts. Mother either exaggerated or mistaken. Consider texting her, but don’t.

Want to read to Grandma, but only book in bag is Frankenstein.

Read anyway. What is body horror to an old and dying woman. She wants to know about Walton. Tell her he wasn’t real. Talk about Arctic exploration. She’s horrified to learn the magnetic north pole moves.

Nurse kicks me out. Kiss Grandma on the cheek. 

Walk home. Read more about magnetic fields. Decide to text Mom. Watch documentary about people who die climbing mountains.


Monday. Wet snow. Walk to work.

Two bodies in already. Donnelly expects more. Bad weather for traffic.

First body from Mercy. Confirming heart attack. Anderson cleans tools. Check email. Anderson lifts body while I photograph. The body is neat, new. Percy’s body washed ashore badly decomposed ten days after drowning. Mary, not yet twenty-five.

Cut into chest. When Grandma dies someone else will cut her open in some other morgue. Tabled and split open. Mom may request no autopsy.

Second body is a car crash. Third comes in around midnight. Donnelly sends Anderson to the office to check supplies. Weigh the kidneys. Weigh the liver. Wait on Anderson for the intestines.

Third body, cause of death unknown. Collapsed alone, found day later. Clean. Photograph. Cut. Hold liver in both hands. Trace toxins, need specialist. Donnelly does the phone call. Shift over before get results.


Tuesday. Clear.

Yesterday’s toxins turned out to be prescription medication. Cause of death stroke. Say, “anticlimactic.” Donnelly laughs, Anderson doesn’t.

No bodies in. Seven’s left me filing.

Body comes in. Car crash. Pause autopsy because two of the left behind are fighting over if they want one.

Wait while Donnelly does crisis management. Resume autopsy. No alcohol. Paperwork. No bodies rest of shift.


Wednesday. Cloudy. Moon almost full. Walk to work.

Undergrads supposed to observe on Seven’s shift but no bodies in. Donnelly invited them to stay longer in case a body showed up. Anderson talks to them. Paperwork.

Body comes in from station. Gory. Donnelly kicks the undergrads out. Anderson quiet while we work.

Two wounds in abdomen. Small, sharp weapon. Lots of blood. One broken off piece left in larger wound. Pair of officers show up. Make Anderson talk to cops. 

No bodies rest of night. Anderson spots copy of Frankenstein in my bag, asks about it.

Text from mother. Has a chart question.


Thursday. Off.

Get up early for groceries before store closes. 

Long walk. Full moon. Clear. Nap. 

Make pasta. Facetime Amelia. Nice to have friend in another timezone. 


Friday. Snow. Coffee on way to work. Tired.

No bodies in yet. Mom calls. Explain chart again. Extracts promise to visit hospital. Already planning to Sunday. Asks me about children. Roll eyes and don’t answer. Find one of Seven’s doodles. Dog with eye glasses. Percy’s wife Harriet drowned herself, and within the month he and Mary were wed.

Resident transferring from day shift here. Chatty. Maxwell.

Frankenstein considered building, for the Creation, a wife. The Creation’s greatest flaw was singularity. Elizabeth was killed before unhappy consummation.

Body arrives. Goes quickly with Anderson and Maxwell both helping. Clean. Pictures. Cut. Remove. Weigh.

Heart attack.

Clean tools. Donnelly playing music.

Walk home. Almost solstice.


Saturday. Clear, but too bright for many stars.

No bodies all day. Very boring.

Read medical journals. Read papers. Read Frankenstein. Anderson off. 

Maxwell organizing her desk. Hums. Doesn’t disturb my reading.

Donnelly talks to Maxwell about his marriage. Pretend to be reading but actually listen. Feels like his wife is pulling away from him but doesn’t know why. Maxwell looks out of depths. Donnelly answers phone.
Walk home. Make stir fry. Bed early.


Sunday. Wake early. Bus to hospital.

Grandma awake and energetic. Excited to hear what happens next. Read to her a while. Asks about my week. Grasp for story. Can’t think of anything that’s suitable bedside manner. Tell her about a medical article instead. Not great, but maybe better than my gruesome minutiae.

She’s interested. Asks questions. Try to answer.

Text chart update to mother. Looks a little worse. Try not to say it like that.

Read a bit more. Nurse comes by to kick me out, sees me, turns around. Twenty minutes later comes back and actually kicks me out.

Watch documentaries. Scandinavian fishing industry. Deep sea creatures.

Go for walk. Make pancakes.


Monday. Snow. Off. Breakfast/dinner with Mom.

She’s nervous about Grandma. Doesn’t like it when I tell her I’m reading her Frankenstein. Ask her about work. She says something jargon-y. Doesn’t ask me about work. Pick at wrist where glove would be.
Starts talking about her mother again. Tears in her eyes. Don’t know what to do. Grab her hand. She squeezes it. Don’t know what to say. 

Mary Wollstonecraft wrote Vindication of the Rights of Woman five years before she died, postpartum infection eleven days after giving birth to Mary.


Tuesday. Snow. Cold. Walk to work.

Body already in. Clean while Anderson and Maxwell settle in. Bumpy autopsy. Trouble with incision, trouble removing intestines. Weigh internals. Donnelly comes in part way through for inventory and startles Maxwell. She accidentally pokes the neck with scalpel.

Middle of day boring. Filing. Help Donnelly with inventory.

Second body few hours before end of shift. Goes smoother. Look at heart. Weigh. Preserve. 

Finish paperwork twenty minutes before sunrise. Decide to leave early. Walk home. Sunrise un-astonishing, but moon visible.

Look out window a while. Traffic lights through snow drifts.


Wednesday. Clear and icy. Coffee on way to work.

Arrive a little early. Seven still in, finishing up paperwork. Glances at me, nods. 

Check email while waiting for Seven to leave. Leaves.

Place order from yesterday’s inventory. Gloves, disinfectant, scalpels. Anderson’s orange juice. 

First body around midnight. Head injury. Bruising almost green, minimal blood.

Second body heart attack. Finish a few hours before end of shift. Rest of shift boring.

Watch weather maps. Walk home.


Thursday. Slushy snow.

Driving conditions bad. Two bodies already in. Work on first with Maxwell while Anderson preps second. 
In 1830 Mary sold copyright for Frankenstein’s second edition. Published year later with new introduction. “I bid my hideous progeny go forth and prosper.”

Both bodies are quick. Third in around midnight. Heart attack. Work is slower. Donnelly comes out of office and asks how Maxwell is adapting to night shift. Noncommittal answer. 

Weigh heart while Donnelly tries to speak to Maxwell. First month on night shift didn’t speak to mother once.

Finish body and clean. Fourth body in. Anderson annoyed. Donnelly says “traffic's awful.” Anderson more annoyed. Let Anderson finish cleaning and start on body with Maxwell.

Walk home. Weather cleared up a bit. Stop at bakery for pastry on way.


Friday. Off. Up early to visit hospital.

Take bus. Damp out. Drop copy of Frankenstein in puddle in parking lot. Fish out of slush.

Set up on heater in Grandma’s room. She coos in sympathy, asks if that means I can’t read today. Look in bag to see if brought second copy. Didn’t. 

Talk about her childhood. Tells me about bridal shop her aunt ran. Sparkling window dresses, flowers in the spring. Played the violin when she was young, only stopped when her hands made her. Before I was born.

Nurse comes by and asks me to take book off heater.

Don’t look at charts until on way out. About the same as last weekend.

Set up book carefully on radiator at home.

Accidentally take nap. Want to call someone to keep me awake, but not a good time. Listen to radio while making pasta.


Saturday. Snow. Check book before leaving for work. Dry, but damaged.

Walk to work.

Donnelly only other person in. Tells me, “people still die on Christmas.” People do still die on Christmas. Body around ten p.m., second in early morning. Both car accidents.

Haven’t done an autopsy with Donnelly in long time. Rusty. Talkative. Plays Christmas music. When he ducks into office part way through second body, covertly turn volume down.

Still dark on walk home.


Sunday. Off. Up early for hospital again.

Mom drives. Haven’t been in car in long time. Tries to tell me how Grandma is. Interrupt her and say I saw her two days ago. Check bag for book.

Grandma seems tired but happy to see us. Mom looks at charts as soon as we walk in.

Talk for a bit, then Grandma asks me to read. Mom looks unhappy when I take Frankenstein out, says nothing. Read a while. Nurse drops by and Mom asks bunch of questions. Pause reading. Grandma and I look at each other. Grandma whispers to me, “aren’t you more qualified than her?” Points at nurse with bent hand. Laugh. Mom gives sharp look.

Read a bit more. Grandma and Mom talk about Grandma’s Will.

Look at charts. Unchanged. Leave.

Mom tells me about New Year’s party.

Tired.


Monday. Clear. Walk to work.

No bodies all day. Donnelly out. Filing.

After Wollstonecraft’s death, William Godwin brought up Mary and Fanny Imlay alone.

Walk home.


Tuesday. Snow. Walk to work.

Body already in. Clean and photograph. Cut. Hold open abdomen. Weigh. Liver inflammation. Preserve heart.

Rae texts that she’s in town. Tell her I have days off on Thursday and Friday. Will already be gone by then.

Second body. Bit mangled. Car accident. Maxwell looks fine. Handles better than Anderson. Clean.

Photograph. Takes long time. Trauma to head and abdomen, large gash on upper leg. Bled out.

Paperwork. Walk home. Still snowing.


Wednesday. Clear, warmer than yesterday. Get coffee on way to work.

No bodies. Seven’s left mess. Organize and clean tools. Throw out some of his sticky notes.

Body a bit before midnight. Prep. Cut. Heart attack. Maxwell humming while she works. 

Second body soon after. Prep and have Maxwell do paperwork for first body. Cut. Remove internals.
Weigh. Another heart attack.

Paperwork. Filing. Talk with Donnelly about budget.

Walk home. Sliver of moon visible. Will be gone tomorrow.


Thursday. Off. Snow.

Do shopping. Read for most of day. Medical journals, news, bit of Frankenstein.

In her widowhood, Mary moved to Harrow on the Hill to ensure sole surviving child’s education.

Get dinner with Chandler. Very early for her, keeps yawning. Asks about work. Tell her going well. She asks for anecdote. Laugh. Tell her about Donnelly’s marital problems. Finds that very amusing. She’s having trouble finding good gynecologist. Write down names for her. 

Stay up with Chandler later than should. Will be tired tomorrow.


Friday. Off. Snow. Mom’s party.

Eat breakfast at kitchen counter. Dress hanging from curtain rod. 

Walk to Mom’s. Moon has barely re-emerged. Crowded.

Long time to find her. Talking to two old men by window. Don’t recognize either but both greet me by name. Mom hands me champagne. She quickly loses me. Ditch champagne on side table somewhere.
Make small talk with cousins in living room. Check phone. Always found it weird that this house of my mother’s doesn’t have a room for me.

Eva stops by and chats for a bit, but has to get to next party.

Shelley describes Victor discovering some ambiguous, innate principle of life and using it to give life to the Creation. Adaptations often substitute electricity.

Midnight.

Text Mom and leave shortly after. House sparkles in distance. Can’t quite hear music.


Saturday. Snow. Walk to work. Light already changing.

Body in around eleven. Clean. Photograph. Notes. Incision. Weigh internals. Report from hospital is difficult to read. Anderson has easier time with it. Harsh effects of medication visible on organs. Liver bad. 

Paperwork. 

Donnelly spills disinfectant fluid on his clothes. Goes home and comes back.

No bodies rest of day.

Walk home. Eat leftovers.

Walton watched the creature drift off in the ice. Victor lay dead on the ship deck.
​
Tired. Sleep with blinds open.

Back to: Issue Ten

Next: Burgi Zenhaeursern

Julia Pols is a student at Vassar College studying English and Women, Feminist, and Queer Studies. She lives in Maine. Her work has been previously published in Laurel Moon Magazine.