her patients died of… her life was over. It wasn't, of course, she could live for years with the proper care, and she knew that. But she had the virus in her blood, waiting there, like a sniper or a time bomb. “Go home,” Sam was saying to her, “get into bed, and stay there. I'll come by and check on you later.”
“You don't have to, I'm fine. And thank you for finishing up for me.” He was a great guy and she was deeply fond of him. He was so incredibly kind and gentle with her dying patients. She wondered if she should tell him what had happened, it made perfect sense to tell him, but she didn't want anyone to know. Not yet. Not until she had to. Not Sam. Not her friends. No one. Not even her nurses. Except Dick Franklin, of course, she knew she'd have to tell him she was infected with the AIDS virus, although she had been scrupulously careful, and knew there had been no risk to him. But purely ethically, she wanted to tell him, although she had no intention of sleeping with him again. But there was no one else she wanted to share her bad news with. As she did with everything else, she kept it to herself. Zoe Phillips did not cry on anyone's shoulder.
But Zoe cried all the way home, in the old Volkswagen van, and when she reached her house, she looked almost as ravaged as she felt. The au pair looked shocked when she walked in, and even Jade stared at her for a moment. “Mommy sad?” she asked, looking worried.
“Mommy loves you,” she said, holding her close, thinking that she would have to be very careful not to cut herself, or go anywhere near Jade if she did. She wondered if she should wear a mask and gloves in the house now, and then realized she was being ridiculous and panic was settling in. She was a doctor, she knew better than that. But this was so different. It was her life. It was hard to be rational and objective.
She took Sam's advice and went to bed, and Jade crawled in with her, and Zoe lay there for a long time, holding her little girl. It was as though the child sensed that something was terribly wrong, and she might lose her mother somehow. It wasn't that she “might,” it was that she would one day, Zoe reminded herself, the question was when, not if, as it was for anyone with the AIDS virus. But in Zoe's case, because of how she'd contracted it, it would be sooner rather than later, and she panicked again at the realization that she had no one to leave Jade with when she died. She'd have to think it over before too long, and decisions had to be made.
An hour later, Inge came in to tell her that Dr. Franklin was on the phone. Zoe hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head. She asked Inge to tell him that she was out, and when Inge returned, she gave Zoe a number at Stinson Beach. But she didn't want to talk to him on the phone, she had already decided to send him a note. It would be easier to tell him in writing. Her conscience was clear because she had been scrupulously careful, she always was, and she knew she hadn't exposed him to any risk. But she still felt she had to tell him, she only hoped that she could trust him, and that he wouldn't spread the word. The medical community was so small and gossipy, she just didn't want anyone to know yet, although eventually, she supposed, once she got very sick, the news would get around. But if she was lucky that might not be for a very long time. And in the meantime, she didn't want Dick Franklin filling everyone in. She didn't want her colleagues talking and gossiping about her. It wasn't anyone's business that she had AIDS. But despite the fact that she didn't feel close to Dick, she felt she had no choice but to tell him the truth. And in fact, wanting to get it off her chest, she wrote a brief letter to him that afternoon. It said only what it had to, that she had tested positive, and she felt he ought to know, but she reminded him that they had never taken any risks. She also told him that she needed to be on her own for a while, and she felt that it was best now if they both moved on. She let him very gently, and very graciously, off the hook, and reading her note again, she wondered if he'd even call her after he got it. Dick Franklin was interesting and intelligent, but he had never been particularly warm. She couldn't imagine him offering her any comfort, or even calling to see how she was, let alone wanting to know if he could help her with Jade. Dick was strictly a dinner partner, a companion for the theater or the opera, or an adult weekend; he was a person for good times, and not bad. But she had no expectations of him. All she wanted from him was that he not tell everyone at UC. It seemed very little to ask of him.
After she wrote the letter to him, Zoe went back to bed, and cuddled with her daughter again. And after a little while, Inge came to take Jade away and give her dinner, and she looked at her employer worriedly. She had never seen Zoe look so lifeless or so distressed, and Zoe had never felt as devastated as she did now, except perhaps when her friend died. She didn't feel ill, she felt terrified, all she wanted to do was run and hide and put the covers over her head, and cling to someone, but there was no one there to hold on to.
She didn't bother to turn on the lights and it was still light outside, although it was twilight. And she could hear Jade playing in the next room with Inge, as the au pair fed her dinner. And at the comforting sounds, Zoe drifted off to sleep, and she slept until she heard someone speaking to her, and she looked up in surprise to see Sam Warner. He was standing next to her, and feeling her neck for a fever.
“How do you feel?” he asked softly, and she had never been as grateful to him as she was at that moment. She could see why her patients loved him. He had a good heart, and a gentle manner. Sometimes that was more important than being a doctor.
“I'm okay,” she said honestly. And she was, for the moment, but she was so scared she almost felt ill, and she was angry at herself for being so pathetic.
“No, you're not,” he said bluntly. He sat down on her bed carefully and looked at her, checking her eyes and her color without ever touching her, and he was puzzled. “You're not feverish, but you look like shit.” She looked terribly upset more than anything, and then he had a thought, and he decided to ask her. “Could you be pregnant?” She smiled in answer, would that it were that simple, or that happy.
“I'm afraid not,” she said sadly, “but it's a sweet thought. I almost wish I were.”
“I'd be happy to help out if that would cheer you up.” She laughed and he reached out and took her hand. “Zoe, I know this sounds like I'm looking for work, but I'm not.” She smiled at him, knowing how busy he was already doing locum tenens for other doctors. There were a lot of doctors who asked him to cover for them, he didn't need her business. “Kiddo, you need a break. I don't know what's bothering you,” he was beginning to think it was emotional rather than physical, but it was obvious to him she needed some time off, “but I think you need some time away from work. You can't give four hundred percent of yourself all the time, and not have it take a toil eventually. Why don't you try and get away?” She thought of Dick Franklin's invitation to Stinson the night before, but that was inappropriate now, and besides, she didn't want to. But she also understood what Sam was saying. She needed to do something for herself. And if she was going to have to fight for her life, she was also going to have to try and prolong it. And maybe now that meant taking some time off and building her strength up.
“I'll think about it.”
“No, you won't. I know you. You'll be back doing rounds at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. Why don't you at least let me do that for you for a few days, and you can arrive at the office like a civilized person at nine o'clock.” The offer was very tempting, and she wasn't sure what to say to him. If nothing else, she would have been grateful for just one night off to sleep and think and get her bearings.
“Would you cover for me tonight and tomorrow morning?” she asked, feeling exhausted again. She wasn't sure if it was due to the disease she was carrying, or if she was just emotionally drained by the confirmation that she had it.
“I'll do anything you want,” he said kindly, as Zoe's heart went out to him, and she was tempted to tell him what she had just found out. But she didn't want to tell anyone at this point, not even Sam. Later, she would need him. Eventually, she would have to cut down her practice, maybe he would even come in with her for a while, but it was still too soon to ask him, and it depressed her to have to think about it.
“I really appreciate this,” she said softly as he stood up.
“Just shut up and get some sleep. I'll call the service for you. You'll probably feel great when you wake up tomorrow, but I don't want to see you at the hospital. And come to think of it, why don't you come in around ten?”
“You're going to make me lazy, Sam,” she said, lying back against her pillows, as he stopped in the doorway.
“I don't think anyone could do that.” He smiled across the room at her. There was a lot he would have liked to say to her, about respect and friendship, and the kind of working relationship they shared, but he never seemed to find the opportunities to tell her. He had wanted to ask her out ever since he came back to San Francisco, but she always kept her distance. And he'd seen her out once or twice with the illustrious Dick Franklin. He didn't think it was serious between them, but he also didn't think it was appropriate to ask. Despite the longevity of their friendship, she was extremely private about her life. Yet it was hard for him not to respond to her warmth and compassion. He admired her more than he could ever tell her, and he would have done anything for her.
“Thanks, Sam,” she said, and he waved and closed the door behind him. She lay in bed, lost in her own
