“It would get rid of her? Get her out of my hair? Before she could get rid of me? Oh, Bruce—”
“Leave it to me, Ethel.” He noticed his tie. He pulled it free of the gravy. The tie fell against his white hospital jacket, mottling it.
Till now, Whitaker had been torturing himself thinking of the damage he would be causing women who would use the IUDs he had altered. But, he kept reminding himself, it was for a good cause. The greater honor and glory of God, for starters. Next, the triumph of the traditionalists’ cause.
Now there was an added dimension. He could do it for Ethel. Which was a little odd, since he had already done it. Maybe he could dedicate it to Ethel. Or just let her in on it. That was it.
When the matter came to a boil, when women who’d been hurt by the IUDs—Whitaker had never been clear on just how the IUDs would damage women, but he had been assured it would happen—returned complaining, and the media would be eager to report this news, then would the administration of Sister Eileen topple. The hospital would be forced to abide by the laws of Holy Mother Church.
At that time, when it had become a fait accompli, he could tell Ethel what had happened and, modestly, who had caused it all.
It was not a bad scenario. He let it develop in his imagination while leisurely making more circles with the bottom of his glass.
Meanwhile, at a table just a few feet away, Father Koesler was captivated by the bizarre dining behavior of the bunglesome duo.
“Hey, Father, come back to earth,” Dr. Fred Scott said. “Here poor Dr. Kim is telling us his troubles and you’re a million miles away.”
Koesler returned to awareness with a start. “Oh . . . I’m sorry.”
“What in the world were you thinking of?”
“I was watching that odd couple at the next table destroy their lunches and ruin the table. Most remarkable. The man looks familiar. But I can’t place him. Probably reminds me of some movie personality I can’t recall. Does anyone know them?”
Seated with Koesler and Scott were Dr. Lee Kim and Sister Rosamunda. In response to Koesler’s question, Scott and Kim shook their heads.
“Sister Rosamunda . . .” Scott tugged gently at her sleeve. Her aural senses were adequate. But, taking advantage of her advancing years, she chose to hear selectively. “Rosey!” Scott said more loudly.
“Eh?”
“Do you know those two at the next table? The guy with the two-bit toup and the girl sitting in all that mess?”
Rosamunda peered intently. “No ... no, I don’t think so. From her uniform, I’d say the woman is an aide. But I don’t know about the man. Can’t say I’ve ever seen him before. Probably a volunteer. They come and go.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Koesler said. “I just thought I knew the gentleman from somewhere. I’m sorry . . .” He returned his attention to Scott. “You were saying . . .?”
“Lee was telling us about his meeting with Sister Eileen this morning. Disaster,” Scott continued. “Lee feels he’s on the verge of being dismissed from staff. He claims it’s racial . . . thinks Eileen is prejudiced against Asians.”
“Oh, do you think so?” Koesler said. “I really find that hard to believe. I get the impression Sister hasn’t a prejudiced bone in her body.”
“You don’t know her, “ Kim said. “And she is not unique. Many Westerners presume that because someone comes from the East, he automatically has a lesser concern for life. I am only one of many Asian doctors on this staff whose position is threatened.”
Scott looked askance as if he were hearing this indictment for the first time and not believing a word of it.
“And when you come to think of what it would mean to be dismissed from this hospital,” Kim continued. “Just look at those two. . . .”He gestured toward the next table. “They appear to be a good example of people who could find a job nowhere. They are the kind of people your welfare state takes care of. But they are employed here. With that in mind—the sort of people who are permitted to continue working here—think of what would go through the mind of a prospective health-care employer when he heard that you had been dismissed by St. Vincent’s! No other hospital would ever consider you.”
“Kind of put a crimp in your career, eh, Lee?” Scott said.
“The end of my career.”
Koesler hoped he would be ignored for a few moments so that he could reflect on this turn of events.
Undoubtedly, Dr. Kim’s position at St. Vincent’s was threatened. No one would have any reason to mislead anyone about that. The question was why.
Was it, as the doctor claimed, a matter of prejudice? Koesler supposed it possible. He himself had harbored some notions relating to the Asian concept regarding the sanctity of life. Notions that traced back to the event that had plunged America into World War II: the attack on Pearl Harbor and the wanton destruction of all those young servicemen. Notions that were reinforced during the Korean conflict when American soldiers testified to North Korean and Chinese troops attacking in wave after wave until lethal machine guns became too hot to continue firing.
On the other hand, the U.S.A. was the only nation thus far that had actually used a nuclear weapon against humans. And almost singlehandedly devastated Vietnam and Cambodia.
Koesler guessed that something pejorative could be said about militaristic nations in general.
But he found it ludicrous to think of Sister Eileen as prejudiced. In her time at St. Vincent’s she had been responsible for racially integrating the hospital, both patients and staff. That the patient population was now almost completely black was an accident of geography. But that there was a heavy percentage of Orientals and blacks on the staff was in good part the handiwork of Sister Eileen.
On the face of it, Koesler tended to give credence to the information Dr. Scott had offered earlier: that Dr. Kim was not relating generously to the patients and that there was some question of his performing clandestine abortions as well as unnecessary hysterectomies.
There was one other possible consideration. What if Dr. Scott were not on the up and up? After all, why should Scott have taken Koesler under his wing and shared all these secrets with him? Koesler had experienced the oversolicitous helper many times in the past. All too often such a person had an ulterior motive. Covering up for a personal involvement by focusing attention on others. Could this be the case with Scott? Or was Koesler being paranoid?
Once again, he became conscious of the table conversation. The thread had not developed much beyond the point at which he had dropped out of the verbal exchange.
“Well, I don’t believe it for a moment, Lee,” Scott said. “I don’t see any problem with your career. But,” he nodded, “there is somebody whose career definitely is coming to an end.”
“Oh? Who?”
“That venerable gentleman just sitting down over there by himself.”
“Haroldson? You must be joking!”
A very solemn-faced John Haroldson was seating himself at an adjacent empty table. His expression would discourage anyone from sharing the table.
“John Haroldson?” Kim said. “Why, he goes back almost to the beginning. Along with our beloved Sister Eileen.”
“Not any more.”
“Why not?”
“Retirement. Haroldson’s reached the mandatory retirement age.”
“How do you know?”
“Small hospital.”
“One of the dinosaurs will live,” Sister Rosamunda broke in, “the other must die.”
“What do you mean by that?” Koesler asked.
“They’re both retirement age.” Rosamunda smiled innocently. “But only one of them will retire.”
Scott nodded. “She’s forcing Haroldson.”
“You mean Haroldson doesn’t want to retire?” asked Koesler.
