'All my life since that day I've tried to find a way out for other women. Find a way to protect that fragile, tiny human life while protecting the freedom of the full-grown woman.' She gazed up at the man.
'Her life's just as fragile, you know.'
David nodded. His anger had turned to wonder and con-cern. He had never seen a doctor cry. He didn't think they could.
Karen's eyes brimmed with tears. She took two tissues from the bedside box and offered one to the other woman.
Evelyn accepted it, smeared at her eyes with it. It didn't bother her-she never wore makeup. Karen dabbed at her own eyes. She wanted to reach out and hold the woman, but she was beyond her grasp.
'I made a desperate choice in helping you.' Fletcher's voice lost all trace of dispassionate medical calm. 'Now I have to make another choice that could undo everything we've achieved.'
'I'm sorry' was all that Karen could say. They sounded like the emptiest, least helpful words in the human language.
VIII
This was the day she had hoped to avoid. She knew it would happen, she had simply hoped to put it off indefinitely. Infi-nitely.
A doctor has many difficult moments, moments she wishes would never have to occur. Regrettable moments that deal with unavoidable death or grieving relatives or angry patients. The standard, rehearsed words of comfort or confrontation can usually calm a tense situation, but even if not, the parting is generally professional and permanent.
Evelyn Fletcher, M.D., Ph.D., took a long drag on her ciga-rette, set it in the ashtray, and watched the smoke curl up past the cone of light from her desk lamp into the darkness of her office. In this situation, she was facing the end of her medical career. Words would be useless. She had endured another crisis just as severe years ago: the day she had to tell her boyfriend that she was pregnant and had decided on an abortion. Words could change nothing then, either. Ian Brunner was another premed at UCLA in the late 1950s when the world took a breather between Korea and Vietnam, between the Air Age and the Space Age. Between D-Day and Dealy Plaza.
He sported a crew cut, skinny tie, and spoke of medicine as a way to make a great living. His only regret was that he had to be around sick people all the time.
Ian and Evelyn were an odd item at the school functions. She dressed like a beatnik in black leotards, black dance shoes, and a black cashmere sweater that hung to her thighs. Her jet-black hair, pulled into a single thick ponytail, reached down to the small of her back. This did not endear her to the more staid eighteen-year-olds in premed. That she carried a copy of Gray's Anatomy instead of Sartre's Nausea set her apart from the beat crowd, too.
She liked Ian, though, with his conservative trappings that failed to disguise a rebellious streak. If their academic records had not been so superb, their notorious behavior might have gotten them sacked in their first year. Both, however, enjoyed their studies as well as their lives. That was why she never quite understood his reaction to her announcement. They had finished a chemistry class to-gether and gone for dinner to Ship's on Wilshire, a brisk walk of a few blocks in the cool winter air. She was troubled all the way, not really knowing how to broach the subject. All through the meal she had a sinking feeling that no matter what she chose, things would change between them. Finally, on their way back, she lit up two Camels, handed one to Ian, and said, 'A friend of mine died today.'
'Who's that?' he asked.
'A rabbit named Friedman.'
She didn't have to elaborate.
He took a long drag on his cigarette. His expression was unreadable. 'So what's the plan?'
'I can't have a baby,' she said in an apologetic tone that surprised her. 'I've got years of med school ahead. I'm seeing someone tomorrow to get'-her voice caught for a moment-'to get it fixed.' They walked in silence for a long time. Finally, his voice cool and muted, he asked, 'Is it mine?'
'Yes.'
He flicked his cigarette into the gutter. 'Are you sure?'
She stopped to stare at him. 'Yes. How could you doubt me when I-' All pretensions of cool adulthood fell away from him in a blaze of anger. 'I don't see how you could go ahead and just kill it. Kill it! Take a miracle like that and-'
'Ian, I-'
