“Well,” said Dr. Markowitz with a forced laugh, “I’m an internist, not an obstetrician. Never was very good at delivering babies.”
Some sense of humor, thought Adam.
“My wife sees Dr. Vandermer,” said Adam.
“He’s the best,” offered Dr. Markowitz. “Can’t get better obstetrical care than Dr. Vandermer. He delivered our two children.”
There was an awkward pause. Adam became aware of the ticking of an antique Howard clock hanging on the wall to his left. Dr. Markowitz leaned forward and opened the folder on his desk. He read for a moment, then looked up.
“Adam, have you considered that this might not be a good time to start your family?”
“It was an accident,” said Adam, wanting to avoid a lecture if that was what the dean had intended. “A birth control failure. A statistic. But now that it has happened, we have to deal with it. We need additional financial support or I have to drop out of school for a year or so. It’s as simple as that.”
“Have you thought about terminating this pregnancy?” asked Dr. Markowitz.
“We’ve thought about it, but neither one of us is willing to do so.”
“What about family support?” questioned Dr. Markowitz. “I don’t think that dropping out of school is a wise move. You have a lot invested in getting to where you are today. I’d hate to see that put in jeopardy.”
“There’s no chance of family support,” said Adam. He didn’t want to get into a conversation about his father’s intransigence or his in-laws’ interference. “My only hope is to borrow more money from the school. If not, I’ll have to take a leave of absence.”
“Unfortunately, you are already borrowing the maximum allowed,” said Dr. Markowitz. “We have limited resources in regard to student loans. We have to spread around what we have so everyone who needs support has access to it. I’m sorry.”
Adam stood up. “Well, I appreciate your time.”
Dr. Markowitz got to his feet. His smile reappeared. “I wish I could be more help. I hate to see you leave us. You have an excellent record up until now. Maybe you should reconsider the advisability of allowing the pregnancy to go to term.”
“We’re going to have the child,” said Adam. “In fact, now that the shock of it all is over, I’m looking forward to it.”
“When would you start your leave?” asked Dr. Markowitz.
“I’m finishing Internal Medicine in a few days,” said Adam. “As soon as it is over, I’ll look for a job.”
“I suppose if you’re going to take a leave, it is as good a time as any. What do you plan to do?”
Adam shrugged. “I hadn’t made any specific plans.”
“I might be able to get you a research position here at the medical center.”
“I appreciate the offer,” said Adam, “but research doesn’t pay the kind of money I’m going to need. I’ve got to get a job with a decent salary. I was thinking more about trying one of the big drug firms out in New Jersey. Arolen gave our class all those leather doctor bags. Maybe I’ll give them a try.”
Dr. Markowitz flinched as if he’d been struck. “That’s where the money is,” he said, sighing. “But I must say I feel as if you were deserting to the enemy. The pharmaceutical industry has been exerting more and more control over medical research recently, and I for one am legitimately concerned.”
“I’m not wild about the idea,” admitted Adam. “But they are the only people who might be seriously interested in a third-year medical student. If it doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll be back for that research position.”
Dr. Markowitz opened the door. “I’m sorry we don’t have more resources for financial aid. Best of luck, and let me know as soon as you can when you plan to get back to school.”
Adam left, determined to call Arolen that afternoon. He would worry about pharmaceutical pressure on research once he had cashed his first paycheck.
• • •
“You’re what!” shouted Jason Conrad, the head of the Jason Conrad Dancers. He threw up his hands in exaggerated despair.
For the four years that Jennifer had known him, Jason had always tended toward histrionics, whether he was ordering lunch or directing the dancers. Consequently, she had anticipated such a reaction.
“Now, let me get this straight,” he moaned. “You’re telling me that you’re going to have a child. Is that right?
No, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that this is just a bad dream.
Please!”
Jason looked at Jennifer with a pleading expression. He was a tall man—six feet three—who looked boyish despite his thirty-three years. Whether he was gay or not, Jennifer had no idea. Neither did any of the other dancers. Dance was Jason’s life, and he was a genius at it.
“I’m going to have a baby,” confirmed Jennifer.
“Oh, my God!” cried Jason, letting his head sink into his hands.
Jennifer exchanged glances with Candy, who had hung around for moral support.
“This is not happening to me,” wailed Jason. “At the moment of our big break, one of the lead dancers gets herself pregnant. Oh, my God!”
Jason stopped pacing. Holding up his index finger, he looked at Jennifer. “What about an abortion? Surely this isn’t a planned child.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jennifer.
“But you can always have another child,” protested Jason.
Jennifer just shook her head.
“You won’t listen to reason?” wailed Jason. He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest and began to take deep breaths as if he were experiencing severe chest pain. “You prefer to torture me like this, straining my heart. Oh God, the pain is awful.”
Jennifer felt guilty about getting pregnant just when the troupe was receiving its big break. She hated to let anyone down. But Jason’s response was a selfish one, and she resented his trying to manipulate her this way into something as serious as an abortion.
Candy took Jason’s arm. “I hope you’re kidding about this chest pain.”
Jason opened one eye. “Me kidding? I never kid about something like this. This woman’s driving me to an early grave and you ask if I’m kidding?”
“I can probably dance for another month or so,” offered Jennifer.
“Oh, no, no, no!” said Jason, instantly forgetting his chest pain. He began pacing back and forth in front of the old ticket booth. “If you, Jennifer, are insensitive enough to abandon us at this juncture, we have to make an adjustment immediately.” He stopped and pointed to Candy. “What about you? Could you dance Jennifer’s part?”
Candy was caught off guard. “I don’t know,” she stammered.
Jason watched Jennifer out of the corner of his eye. He knew that Jennifer and Candy were friends. He thought that jealousy might accomplish what reason couldn’t. He needed Jennifer at least until the TV show was taped, but Jennifer did not respond. She remained silent as Candy finally replied, “I guess I’m in good shape. I’ll certainly try and give it my best.”
“Hooray,” said Jason. “It’s good to hear that someone around here is willing to make some sacrifices.” Then to Jennifer he said, “Maybe you should head into the office and have Cheryl take you off the payroll. We aren’t a welfare organization.”
Candy spoke up. “She should get her base salary for another two weeks. That’s only fair.”
Jason waved his hand as if he didn’t care. He started back for the gym floor.
“Also,” called Candy after him, “I think it would be easier for our accounting if we put her on maternity leave.”
“Whatever,” said Jason with little interest. He opened the door into the gym. They could hear the other dancers going through their routines. “Let’s get to work, Candy,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared through the door.
