Language of Desire

On the afternoon school bus, and without thinking about it, Larkin Brousseau ran a finger over the bump and down the crooked bony ridge. Sometimes she wondered if her nose had been broken when she was little--perhaps at the playground, or the neighbors' trampoline--and no one at home had noticed. Or if they had noticed, they had figured, Hello, it's a nose. It isn't sliding off your face, or wrecking your mobility: it will heal by itself. People in her family rarely went to see the doctor. Why would you want to hear a doctor say, Sure enough you've got a broken toe/sore throat/ bad cold/case of flu-that'll be ninety-eight dollars.