'Uh-huh. And you're not wearing your bracelet or carrying your emergency kit?'
She didn't answer.
'Zoe,' he said gently, 'I want to put you in the hospital.'
'No,' she said immediately.
'Only for tests,' he urged. 'To find out what's going on here. I don't want to wait for your blood and urine tests; I want you in the hospital now. The last thing in the world we want is an Addisonian crisis. Believe me, it's no fun. We can prevent that if you go into the hospital now, and we can make tests I can't do here.'
'I don't want to go into a hospital,' she said. 'I don't like hospitals.'
'Who does? But sometimes they're necessary.'
'No.'
He sighed. 'I can't knock you on the head and drag you there. Zoe, I think you should consult another physician. I think you may be happier with another doctor.'
'I won't be happier. I don't want another doctor.'
'All right, then I'll be happier. You won't tell me the truth. You won't follow my advice. I've done all I can for you. I really do think another physician will be better for both of us.'
'No,' she said firmly. 'You can refuse to treat me if you want, but if you do, I won't go to anyone else. I just won't go to any other doctor.'
They stared at each other. Something like a fearful wariness came into his eyes.
'Zoe,' he said in a low voice, 'I think there is a problem here. I mean a special problem that is not physical, that has nothing to do with Addison's, but is fueling the disease. You won't tell me about it, that's plain. I know a good man, a psychiatrist-will you talk to him?'
'What for? I don't have a special problem. Maybe I just need more medicine. Or a different medicine.'
He drummed fingers on the desktop, looking at her reflectively. She sat quietly, legs crossed at the ankles, hands placidly clasped in her lap. She was expressionless, composed. Spine straight, head held high.
'I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do,' he said quietly. 'I am going to wait until I have the results of your blood tests and urinalysis. If they show what I expect, I am going to call you and ask you once again to go into the hospital for further tests and treatment. If, at that time, you again refuse, I am going to call or wire your parents in Minnesota. I have their names and address in your file. I will explain the situation to them.'
'You wouldn't,' she said, gasping.
'Oh yes,' he said, 'I would, and will. At that time, the decision will be yours, and theirs. I'll have done everything I can possibly do. After that, it's out of my hands.'
'And you'll just forget all about me,' she said, beginning to weep.
'No,' he said sadly, 'I won't do that.'
She stumbled home in the waning light of a summer night. The sky as bronzed as the tainted patches on her flesh. She saw, with dread, how ugly people were. Snout of pig and fang of snake.
It was a city of gargoyles, their lesions plain as hers. She could almost hear the howls and moans. The city writhed. 'Special problems' everywhere. She was locked in a colony of the damned, the disease in or out, but festering.
Those answers she had given to Dr. Stark's questions-they were not lies, exactly.
She was aware of everything: her weakness, nausea, vertigo, salt craving, diarrhea. But she sloughed over these things, telling herself they were temporary, of no consequence. To admit them to Dr. Stark would give them an importance, a significance she knew was unwarranted.
And when he asked about emotional and psychological stress- well, that was simply prying into matters of no concern to him. She knew what he was doing, and was determined to block him. Her adventures were hers alone, private and secret.
Still, she was saddened by his threat to turn her away. Rejection again. Just as Kenneth had rejected her. And her father. He had rejected by ignoring her, but it was all the same.
She was still musing about rejection and how men did it with a sneer or a laugh, spurning something tender and yearning they could not appreciate and did not deserve, when Ernest Mittle called her soon after she returned home.
Ernie hadn't rejected her. He phoned almost every night, and they saw each other at least once a week and sometimes twice. She thought of him as a link, her only anchor to a gentle world that promised. No gargoyles or cries of pain in that good land.
He knew she had gone to the doctor for her monthly checkup, and asked how she made out.
She said everything was fine, she had passed with flying colors, but the doctor wanted her to eat more and put on a little weight.
He said that was marvelous because he wanted her to come down to his place on Saturday night for dinner. He was going to roast a small turkey.
She said that sounded like fun, and she would bring some of those strawberry tarts he liked. Then she asked him if he had heard anything about Maddie and Harry Kurnitz.
He said he had learned nothing new, but Mr. Kurnitz was still seeing the blonde, and was very irritable lately, and had Zoe heard about the latest Hotel Ripper killing, and wasn't it horrible?
She said yes, she had heard about it, and it was horrible, and had Ernie definitely scheduled his summer vacation?
He said he'd know by next week, and he hoped Zoe could get the same vacation time, and who was she going to vote for?
So it went: a phone conversation that lasted a half-hour. Just chatter, laughs, gossip. Nothing important in the content. But the voices were there. Even in talking about the weather, the voices were there. The soft tones.
'Good night, darling,' he said finally. 'I'll call you tomorrow.'
'Good night, dear,' she said. 'Sleep well.'
'You, too. I love you, Zoe.'
'I love you, Ernie. Take care of yourself.'
'You, too. I'll see you on Saturday, but I'll speak to you before that.'
'Tomorrow night?'
'Oh yes, I'll call.'
'Good. I love you, Ernie.'
'I love you, sweetheart.'
'Thank you for calling.'
'Oh Zoe,' he said, 'be happy.'
'I am,' she said, 'when I talk to you. When I'm with you. When I think of you.'
'Think of me frequently,' he said, laughing. 'Promise?'
'I promise,' she said, 'if you'll dream of me. Will you?'
'I promise. Love you, darling.'
'Love you.'
She hung up, smiling. He had not rejected her, would not. Never once, not ever, had he criticized the way she looked, what she did, how she lived. He loved her for what she was and had no desire to change her.
'Mrs. Ernest Mittle.' She spoke the title aloud. Then tried, 'Mrs. Zoe Mittle.'
He was not an exciting man, nor was he a challenge. There was no mystery to him. But he was caring and tender. She knew she was stronger than he, and loved him more for his weakness.
She would not have him different. Oh no. Never. She had her fill of male bluster and swagger. Maddie might call him 'Mister Meek,' but Maddie was incapable of seeing the sweet innocence of meekness, the scented fragility, as an infant is fragrant and vulnerable, shocked by hurt.
Zoe Kohler showered before she went to bed, not looking at her knobbed, discolored body. In bed, she dreamed that with Ernie at her side, always, as husband and helpmate, she might no longer have need for adventures.
Then the void would be filled, the ache dissolved. She would regain her health. She would blossom. Just blossom! They would create a world of two, and there would be no place for the cruel, the ugly, or the brutish.
July 2nd; Wednesday…
'Goddamn it!' Abner Boone shouted, and slapped a palm on the desktop. 'Then you're not certain it definitely is this Addison's disease?'
