The Doctor's Tale Read online

“If you don’t remember me, Mr. Intern,” she said, “you should.”

  I appreciate a sense of humor, especially in the middle of the night. “Put it like that,” I said, “and I know who you are. You’re the cop that knocked on my door in the middle of the night.”

  The blonde’s eyes shifted from my face to her captor’s. “And you be hauling me in?” she said to the cop. The steel cuffs on her wrists clinked and clattered—an odd accompaniment to the peal of giggles that followed.

  “Miss Jones,” the cop said, “this situation is not what it appears to be.”

  The blonde tossed her head in amusement. “It never is, girlfriend.” She grinned at me and winked. “Never is. Right, Doc?”

  I pretended I didn’t hear her question. “Have you two been seen yet?” I said. I couldn’t take a deep breath without coughing. The odors of perspiration and cigarette smoke hung in the stale air.

  “I found Miss Jones hiding under the Eads Bridge this evening,” the cop said. “I’m no doctor, but I thought she might need a few stitches before I brought her in to tell her latest story.”

  For the next few minutes, I examined the woman’s split lip and the long, deep gash in her neck. Crusty red blood oozed from both wounds. “Officer, you want to tell me what happened?”

  The blonde bristled. “Lissen Doc, I ain’t no child now. I can talk for myself. And ya’ll can stop with the Miss Jones stuff. My name is Taneisha. My friends call me Neesie.” She smiled her brightest, in spite of her injuries. “You know something? You’re cute. We should go out sometime.”

  “You’d better save your voice,” the cop said. “You’re going to need it later.”

  Neesie’s lower lip protruded in a pout. “Oh yeah? Why you say that?”

  “My friends down at the station want to know about your plans for this evening. I’m thinking they’ll probably ask about those ever so attractive cuts on your lip and neck. What do you think about that?”

  Neesie stared at me, and turned to face the police officer. “I’ll tell you ‘xactly what I think. Looks to me like we both be doing the same thing. Only you be thinking I’m the onlys one doing something wrong.”

  The cop clenched her prominent jaw, and snatched her baton from her belt.

  I lunged to block her next move. “No! Physical force won’t be necessary, Officer, um—I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Apparently Doc,” she said, “you don’t need it. Why don’t you spend time with the fine upstanding Miss Jones here? I’ll be waiting outside in the hall.” Fuming, the lanky woman strode out of the room. The door slammed behind her. In seconds, it reopened.

  “Doc?”

  “Yes Officer?” I knew she’d be back.

  “The cuffs stay where they are.”

  “Noted. And Officer?”

  “I’m waiting, Doc.”

  “You can call me whatever you like, but I’d like to get your name.” It wasn’t easy to appear disinterested, but I thought I managed to remain a professional attitude. “For the records, you know.”

  “It’s Officer Burns,” she said, without hesitation. “Gabrielle Burns. That’s Gabrielle now—not Gabby. Because let’s get one thing straight, Doc. I am not Chatty Cathy. I’ll be waiting outside.”

  It was so good to see her again. Maybe next time, I’ll get her phone number.

  THREE

  One careless remark did the trick. I was talking to Rosa, and I mentioned something about feeling a little bit lonely. Kapow! I had a blind date. Just like that. Why did I schedule it for my first Saturday night off in two months? Maybe it just seemed like two months. Tonight, the thought of canceling the date definitely crossed my mind, so strongly that I called Rosa with precisely that intention. When she answered the telephone, it was almost as if she expected my forlorn call. Great.

  “Oh hello, Tom. Yeah, just listen to me. My friend is so excited about going out with you! No, don’t you dare say that. Of course, she knows you’re a doctor. No, absolutely not. I refuse to tell her you’re a butcher. What did you say? Now, you’re no accountant, and you know it. What do you mean, why? Because you’re not. You know what’s wrong with you?”

  “No Rosa. Why don’t you give me a list of all of my faults? Please. Look Rosa, I’m just tired. That’s all there is to it.”

  “You’re always tired. You think that’s going to get any better? No, it won’t. In a few more years, you’ll still be tired, but then, they’ll pay you to act like a bigger jerk.”

  “Look, I just don’t know anything about this girl. And tonight, I just want to kick back and relax. For once, I don’t want to have to work so hard.”

  “It’s too late to cancel, Tom. I told her all about you. She’s probably on her way over to your place now. Please don’t hurt her feelings.”

  “I’m really not good company these days, Rosa. She could do so much better.”

  “Take her bowling.”

  “Bowling?”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I’m dead serious. She’s very coordinated.”

  “I don’t bowl.”

  “Okay, how about target shooting? You sure know a lot about that. Take her to the pistol range. That’s what she really likes to do, anyway.”

  “She likes to shoot?”

  “Yeah. That’s what she said.”

  “Rosa, please—”

  “This friend is good company, trust me. She loves your picture, she’s nice, and super patient…”

  “You showed her my picture?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I’m a very private person, Rosa. You should have asked me before you did that.”

  “Look, I have to go now. Call me tomorrow and tell me how tonight went, huh?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I hadn’t been shooting since Uncle Tony died, almost two years ago. I missed him and, yes, I did miss shooting. A night at the range could be a welcome change. Besides, when I thought about it, there were a lot of things I missed.

  The red Chevy truck rolled up to the curb. She sat behind the wheel, and checked her makeup in the rear view mirror. First impressions made all the difference. She learned that at the Police Academy. Patted her Beretta just to be sure it stayed where she put it. Rosa’s brother and all, but still…

  She stared at the familiar brick building. How many times had she driven by and wondered about the people who lived there? Despite the glow of the streetlights, it lacked that intangible quality known as “curb appeal.” To some people, though, appearances didn’t matter. She wondered if she’d made a mistake. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. The thing was, it was hard to find a guy who wasn’t intimidated by her job—or her stature. Apparently, Rosa’s brother wasn’t. She braced herself and began the long walk to the front door. She hoped it didn’t lead to another heartache.

  When the doorbell buzzed, my neck stiffened. I really didn’t need more stress and lots of it. I glanced at the grandmother clock. Six o’clock on the dot. My date was punctual. Okay, that was a good sign. I opened the door, and immediately, I recognized her face. I knew her, from somewhere—that prominent jaw stayed with you. Then it hit me. She was the cop—without the uniform.

  Actually, she was quite attractive, in a Western kind of way. A long, tall drink of water with broad shoulders, narrow hips and blue jeans bought to fit and flatter.

  “Hey there, Mr. Intern,” she said. “It’s Gabrielle Burns. Your friendly neighborhood cop.”

  “Surprise, surprise!” I said. “I’m Tom, but I guess you already knew that part.”

  “We going out or what?”

  “Huh?”

  “I mean, are ya’ll going to come out here in the hall with me, or hide out in the apartment all night? I got what we need in the truck.”

  “The truck?” I peeked through the venetian blinds, and spotted her shiny red Chevy, parked at the curb.

  “Yeah. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is.”

  I grinned. “Smart mouth, are you?�
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  “I can be.”

  “Okay.” This girl made me laugh—not at all what I expected.

  That was a good thing.

  “Do you come here a lot?” I glanced at the customers. There were quite a few uniformed cops sipping coffee, beer and soda—no wine drinkers in here. “Lyin’ Eyes” blared from speakers in the dusty corners. The smells of burnt pizza crust and cigar smoke spiced the greasy air.

  “I can’t hear you,” Gabrielle said. The clatter of dishes and crescendo of conversation drowned the sound of my voice. “You’ll have to learn to yell like the rest of us.” She chuckled and smiled at me with a certain curiosity.

  I felt a little uncomfortable, but I wasn’t unhappy. “Yeah, I thought when I moved out of my parents’ house, maybe those days were over.” I looked around the room, and then, back at her. “Guess not.” I took a gulp of beer and swallowed. “So uh, how do you know Rosa?”

  Her smile faded. “When I tell you, you’re probably not going to like me much.”

  “Try me.” The waitress slammed a plate of toasted ravioli on the table in front of me. Tomato sauce splattered down the front of my shirt and all over the plastic red checkered tablecloth. Tonight, I didn’t care.

  “Tom, you probably know your sister’s got a lead foot. I pulled her over for doing fifty six in a forty five, and gave her a speeding ticket. Then I asked her where she was going in such a big hurry. She said she was on her way to a fantastic sale at Victoria’s Secret.” Gabrielle shrugged. “I was just finishing my shift. So we decided to go shopping. Then we got around to talking about guys, she showed me your picture, and well…end of story.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “You’re kidding me.”

  Gabrielle simply shook her head. “Nope. Never happened to me before or since I left Texas.”

  “Well, that sounds like Rosa. I have to ask—what are you doing in St. Louis? I mean Texas is a long ways away.”

  “Yeah, well. I was married before. You mind?”

  “No. Well… No. I don’t. But what’s that got to do with—”

  “I had to leave the state after the divorce. San Antonio wasn’t big enough for the two of us. Neither was Texas. And, if you don’t mind, that’s all I want to say about that. For right now, anyway.”

  “Understood.” I dipped a piece of ravioli into the sauce and took a bite. “That was some impressive shooting you did at the range tonight.”

  “Scared you, didn’t it? You’re pretty darned good yourself,” she said. “I almost faked some mistakes to throw you off. Then I decided, what’s the point? I’m past that.”

  “Past what?” I glanced at the clock on the wall.

  “Being who I’m not. I’m not going to do that again. That was the biggest mistake I made the first time. So now, either you like me or you don’t. What you see is what you get.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Besides, before I saw how you could shoot, I thought you might feel safer knowing I could take care of myself.” She shrugged. “And you too, if the situation called for it.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Quick recall.” She laughed out loud, and finished her beer. “I like that in a man.”

  “Remember the night I pounded on your door and woke you up? The night the cop was shot? You looked pretty scared.”

  “I wasn’t expecting company. So tonight would actually be the second time I’ve seen you?”

  “Third, by my count. I guess you already forgot about Miss Jones. But, I’m just another pretty face in the ER. Think you can remember me?”

  “That’s not fair. The first two times we met, I hardly expected to meet a beautiful woman. Besides that, I was exhausted.”

  “That’s right, hold the applause. So, what do you think?”

  “Think?”

  “You know, about us? Think we’ll go out again?”

  I blinked and smiled at the woman in front of me. It seemed strange to me that she wanted my opinion of her. “Give me a little time, okay? I’m not in a hurry. Like you say, what you see is what you get.”

  “Fair enough.” Gabrielle twirled her hair around her finger, and gazed at me.

  “Tell me something,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Why is it that women seem to want a verdict after one date? I mean, most guys don’t know what they think for a while.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “I don’t know. It’s as long as it takes. I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

  “You know something? This may come as a surprise to you, but so does everyone else. And they want to know what you’re thinking. So they can count you in—or out.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Big of you, Dr. Spezia. C’mon. I’ll show you how a cop cleans a gun.” She winked at me and smiled. “If you’re real nice, I might even show you the pearl-handled .32 that I got from a Texas pimp.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Gabrielle shrugged. “Nope. I told you I have a lot going on.”

  I don’t know when I laughed so hard, or for that matter, ate or drank so much. My mouth actually hurt from smiling. Yeah, it had been that long since I had done anything that resembled “goofing off.” Maybe that’s why what happened next bothered me so much.

  It was just a can of Wintergreen Skoal on the parking lot beside her truck. An empty one, as it turned out. As far as Gabrielle was concerned, it might as well have been a grenade.

  “Get that thing away from me!” Gabrielle shrieked.

  I grabbed the container and flung it into a nearby dumpster.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I said. Her face had turned a putrid shade of gray.

  The last time I saw skin that color, I was on a boat filled with seasick whale-watchers.

  “Keep walking,” she said. “I need to breathe. Just keep moving.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing and nobody seemed to be lurking in the shadows.

  “You want me to drive?” I said.

  She flung the keys to the truck at me.

  “Sure. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I said. I had never driven a truck. Tonight would be my first attempt. At that moment, I felt the familiar sound of my beeper. “I’ve got to call the hospital, Gabrielle. Do you mind if we go back into the bar for a minute?”

  She looked terrified. “I thought you were off tonight.”

  “I am. But, I am also getting a call. I have to return it.”

  “Could we just go to your place? I don’t want to go home right now.”

  “Sure.” I started the engine and drove to my apartment. All the while, Gabrielle remained silent. She simply stared at the road ahead, now bathed in a swirling mist. What could frighten a woman like her?

  My beeper continued to whine. I drove faster. At that moment, I didn’t know if we were going out again or not. I would have to think about that for awhile—and that would take—well, as long as it took.

  Once inside the apartment, I dashed into the kitchen and called the hospital. When I returned, Gabrielle was asleep on my bed.

  Okay, Rosa. Should I wake her up?

  I asked myself if I would want to be disturbed from such a sound sleep. I asked myself if she would want to go back to her place, since the suggestion upset her so much, earlier in the evening. At some point, I must have grown weary of asking myself questions I couldn’t answer.

  The next time I thought about anything, I heard water running in the bathroom. The morning sun streamed through the bedroom windows. The grandmother clock chimed seven times. I spotted Gabrielle’s shoes beside the bed, and all at once, I felt confused

  Were we going out again—or not?

  FOUR

  When I entered Mrs. Raines’ room the following morning, the tension in the room spit and crackled. Loose strings of matted hair framed her swollen eyes. Tiny wails escaped her chapped lips. I expected the usual audience
, but today, Mrs. Raines was alone. After Dr. Skelton’s confrontation with Starr and Eddie, I decided to avoid the Raines’ marital issues. After all, what I knew about marriage could fill a thimble.

  “How are you feeling this morning, Mrs. Raines?” I said.

  Her calloused hands struggled to hide her ruddy face. She pointed to a wallet-sized photo of Eddie on her breakfast tray, propped beside a bowl of cold, dry oatmeal.

  “Mrs. Raines,” I said, “look at me. That’s good. Has Dr. Skelton seen you today?”

  Mrs. Raines stopped crying and swallowed once, very hard. Weary and wounded, she seemed unable to speak. After several moments passed, she finally relented. “I don’t want to see him anymore, Dr. Spezia.” Her chin jutted in defiance. “He doesn’t understand me at all. He thinks I’m—what did he say? He called me ‘terminal.’” She raked her hair with her fingers. “That’s not me. That’s not who I am.”

  After this declaration, I felt speechless. The chart I retrieved from the nurse’s station rested in my trembling hands. Now, I shuffled the papers to read Dr. Skelton’s notes. Indeed, he seemed to be fond of the word “terminal.” According to his scribbled notations, Mrs. Raines’ life would last, at the most… hmm, three months. I didn’t feel that I couldn’t deliver such a pessimistic prognosis to anyone, especially a fragile soul like Lori Raines.

  “What does it say, Doctor?”

  For a moment, the question paralyzed me. Perhaps, I thought, this is how the accused must feel when confronted by an executioner.

  “Tell me something,” I said. “How do you view your prognosis?”

  “My what?”

  “I mean, do you believe you’re sick?” I struggled to smile. “Let’s start there.”

  “I know I’m sick, sure.” The gaunt woman paused and stared out the window. “But I’m going to get better, aren’t I? This is a hospital, isn’t it? Aren’t you people going to help me? Dr. Skelton doesn’t believe I’m going to get well again. But, you don’t believe that about me, do you, Dr. Spezia?”

  Uneasy, frustrated and inexperienced—I felt all of those emotions and more. Was it right to infuse hope into such a bleak situation? Yet, who has a crystal ball? Could I predict any outcome with absolute certainty? Of course not. Such questions clarified my position, at least, in my mind.