Private Practices (2 page)

“They're fine. My mother's in Florida. Sidney and I share the practice here.”

“I gathered that,” she nodded. Then she asked, “You married?”

It was a troubling subject. He shook his head but said nothing in explanation.

“I'm divorced,” she offered. “Well, separated. As of a year ago. But the divorce is on its way.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” she answered brightly. “It happens to everyone. A sort of reverse initiation.”

“I'm doubly innocent then,” Ben managed, trying to emulate her bantering tone. “Not divorced. Not even married yet.”

She smiled again. “Count your blessings.”

“Didn't you like being married?”

“Does anyone?”

To his surprise, he realized that he was enjoying himself. Naomi's patter had a familiar quality, the rhythm of his childhood. His mother and his uncles had often answered questions with questions, praise with ironic deflections of praise. But he couldn't think what to say in reply to Naomi's comment and he found himself wondering whether she had come to see him as a patient or a friend. He needed to know such things. Structure gave him security. Opening Naomi's folder, he asked abruptly, “Well, what can I do for you?”

She looked unhappy, as if she had wanted their exchange of personal information to continue a while longer, but she said, “I need an IUD. A diaphragm's okay when you're married, but when you're separated, it's a little too risky.”

He nodded but closed her folder. “Birth control's Sidney's bailiwick. Didn't the nurse tell you when you called for an appointment?”

Naomi twisted her silver chain around her fingers. “Yes, but I said I wanted to see you. I'm afraid I insisted. I remember Sidney from the old days too and I never cared for him. I thought that under the circumstances—”

He shook his head. “You'll have to see Sidney. He handles all the birth control requests. Keeps notes on them for his research.”

Naomi's brow furrowed. “I read something in the
Times
about his research. A new birth control pill, wasn't it?”

“It's going to revolutionize birth control as we know it,” Ben said proudly. “In its way it's as remarkable a concept as Pincus' pill, Lippes' loop.”

“That's exciting. Is it in use anywhere?”

“No. It's still being tested. In the Caribbean.”

Naomi shrugged again. “Well, all right. What do I do? Make another appointment?”

He sighed. “I'm afraid so.” Then he said hesitantly, wanting to be helpful, “No. Wait a moment. Sidney's here in the office. It's not one of his patient days, but maybe he'll see you anyway.”

“I'd be grateful.”

“Sit here. I'll step around and see if he's free.”

Sidney was poring over a sheaf of typed papers when Ben tapped on his door. His head bent, it looked leonine and massive, aswirl with luxurious light brown waves. Ben's hair, although he was younger than Sidney, had already begun to thin. In every way there was less of himself than of his brother, he thought wryly. They were the same height, but Sidney weighed a good forty pounds more than he did, and had always been heavier and better-built. Sidney had a square face, with a rugged jaw, imposing nose and full, firm lips. He himself had a narrow, elongated face with sculpted hollows in his cheeks, and his nose and lips were thin. Their mother used to call him a tall drink of water.

Comparing himself to Sidney so distracted him that for a moment he forgot why he had sought him out, and when Sidney lifted his eyes from his typescript and said irritably, “What is it?” he couldn't, for a moment, remember. When he did, he hemmed, “Are you very busy? Could you spare a few minutes? Could you do me a favor?” God knew he did enough favors for Sidney to merit a few of his own, he encouraged himself.

“Sure, old buddy,” Sidney said, “provided you'll do one for me, too. You remember when I told you about Lippes' tie clasp?”

“Yeah. Gold and shaped like a loop.”

Sidney frowned in annoyed remembrance. “He wears it wherever he goes. Every time I run into him, he's wearing his damn logo.”

Ben nodded. He knew Sidney disdained Lippes and nearly all the other leading birth-control men, and often looked for minor personal traits with which to condemn them.

“Well, I think I'd like something like that,” Sidney concluded. “Before the next big meeting. Before Houston.”

Ben was surprised. He had expected Sidney to denounce Lippes as vain or egotistical. But here he was wanting to emulate him. He tilted his head, puzzled. “You want a tie clasp shaped like a loop!”

“No. Jesus Christ,
think
for a minute.” The telephone began ringing just then and Sidney picked it up, whispering loudly, “A ring. An opal. In the shape of a capsule.” Holding the phone with one hand, he fanned out the fingers of the other, which already bore the discreet diamond Claudia had given him on their first anniversary. He kept his ringed hand up, an elbow on the desk, and let his fingers jiggle in the air as he began to talk into the phone, saying firmly, “Yeah. Sure I'm sure. Not if Greeley's heading the panel.”

In a short while he shrugged, made a bored face at the phone and turned to Ben, sliding the hand that was holding the receiver down across the mouthpiece. “Rockefeller Institute,” he whispered. “Again. But I told them they'd never get me and Greeley on the same platform.” A moment later he returned his attention to the phone and lifted his fingers so that he could speak into the mouthpiece. “No. There's nothing to explain. I just won't do it.”

Ben waited for Sidney to finish his conversation, busying himself by admiring the graceful room with its carved plaster moldings, French windows, crystal chandelier and tiled fireplace. It had been the parlor once. A turn-of-the-century apartment. But by the time he and Sidney had taken over the lease, it had already been converted into a professional suite. This big front room was the one Ben had always loved. But from the very beginning of their occupancy it had been clear whose room it was. Sidney's. Ben had moved into the small back office.

Just as well, he thought. Sidney needed space. Needed it the way a fish needs water. He had converted one of the suite's two bathrooms into a lab—though he had one at the hospital too—and had taken over the file room for his research notes. The patients waited in line to use the single bathroom. The medical files had been awkwardly squeezed in behind Cora's front desk. And still he complained of lack of space. He was always expanding. He had even run out of room for his elaborate collection of Milton Avery water-colors and Raphael Soyer drawings. They were competing for wall space behind his desk with his numerous diplomas, honorary degrees and testimonial plaques.

“Okay. Got to go,” Sidney was saying at last. He signed to Ben that he was about to terminate the call. “You get back to me. If you get him off, I'll be there.” Hanging up, he shook his head vigorously. “Damn sycophants. They know Greeley's recent work sucks but they keep inviting him anyway.” Then he shrugged and smiled at Ben. “Well, no matter. Let's get back to the ring. I'd like it to be a surprise. I don't want Claudia to know I thought it up myself.”

Ben nodded. Sidney stood. And Ben started to leave. Naomi had gone out of his mind. Sidney's affairs, grander than his own, made his own concerns grow indistinct or vanish altogether. But as he approached the door, he remembered and said, “Hey, Sid. I wanted you to do
me
a favor. See a patient of mine who needs an IUD.”

Sidney made a groaning sound.

“She's an old friend or I wouldn't bother you on the spur of the moment,” Ben continued. “Naomi Golden. Remember her from King Street?”

Sidney shook his head.

“Well, anyway,” Ben persisted. “How about it?”

“Why the hell didn't you mention it sooner? Jesus. I already gave you ten minutes. I'm due at Midstate at two.”

“I started to,” Ben said, “but we got going about the ring.”

“Yeah, well all right,” Sidney grunted. “Tell Cora to get your friend ready and I'll be along in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. See you at dinner.”

“Dinner? Oh, Jesus. I meant to speak to you about that.”

Ben began to rub at his palms with his fingers. Ashamed of his nervous gesture, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his white jacket where his right hand made comforting contact with the pill vial. He closed his fingers around it, worrying it the way a Greek worries his beads.

Sidney pushed back his chair and came around his desk. “Maybe we'd better put it off,” he said. “I've got to take an early flight to make the NIH meeting tomorrow.”

Ben stared at Sidney in dismay. “You might have made up your mind a little earlier,” he said, trying not to reveal how hurt he felt. But his voice betrayed him. He stammered a little. “Not—not at the last minute.”

“Oh, forget it. We'll have dinner,” Sidney said gruffly.

Ben backed down. “No. It's okay. If you've got to get up early, let's skip it.”

Sidney's lips opened in a forced smile. He clapped Ben on the shoulder. “I was just kidding. There's no problem, as long as we make it an early night. I was just fooling about calling dinner off.”

Ben felt a familiar fury rise within him. Calling the dinner off was one thing; kidding around about it was worse. “It was just a joke, old buddy,” Sidney was saying. “I wouldn't call tonight off. Claudia's got something she's dying to tell you.” He squeezed Ben's forearm. “Besides, Mulenberg's coming too and I'm counting on you to keep him out of my hair. You're the tactful one, everyone says so.”

Ben began to feel better. What difference did it make whether Sidney had been serious or joking as long as he didn't cancel. “Thanks again,” he smiled, relieved. “You can count on me.”

Back in his office, he told Naomi that Sidney would see her in fifteen minutes. “You were gone so long,” she said. “I thought maybe you were never coming back.”

“Would you have minded that?” He felt unexpectedly flirtatious.

She gave him a surprised look and said sincerely, “Yes. I've really enjoyed seeing you again.”

He buzzed Cora, asking her to take Naomi over to Sidney's side of the suite, and promised Naomi he'd stop by in a few minutes.

He thought about her all during his examination of his next patient, anxious Mrs. Rogers whose periods had grown annoyingly profuse. He ought to ask Naomi out for dinner. Or a drink, he mused. His life had become a tight, airless circle. The hospital. The office. An occasional tête-a-tête at Sidney and Claudia's. Mrs. Rogers groaned. Withdrawing gloved fingers, he said, “Okay, you can straighten up now,” thinking that if only he had someone else to fall back on, he wouldn't be so easily thrown by Sidney's teasing threats of rejection.

“Are the cysts getting bigger?” Mrs. Rogers asked.

“I'm afraid so,” he answered quietly.

“You gotta cut them out?” She looked on the verge of tears.

“No. Not yet. We're going to watch them. Wait and see's the best policy. Don't worry, sweetheart.” She looked grateful at his information and when he called her sweetheart, she blushed. Not all his patients liked the familiarity of endearments and unlike some of his colleagues, he had learned to tailor his use of affectionate language, suiting it to each individual woman. Mrs. Rogers clearly had enjoyed it. She was smiling at him contentedly, her cheeks pinkening with a surge of nostalgia. It must have been years since anyone had addressed her so intimately. He helped her off the table with a generous hand.

Why was it that he could be so successful, so instinctual, with patients? Yet so uncomfortable and constrained with the women he saw outside the office. Would it be true with Naomi too? Finished with Mrs. Rogers he headed down the corridor to Sidney's side of the office. What would happen if he took Naomi out? He liked her liveliness, her directness. But then he began to think it through. Most likely he'd only fail at getting into bed with her. He always failed at getting into bed with women these days.

Sidney said he was simply picking the wrong women. Middle-class women. What he needed was someone like Sidney's own wife, Claudia. Money was an aphrodisiac, Sidney always argued. Especially old money. Once, shortly after he'd married Claudia, he'd shown Ben around his new wife's family's summer compound on a rocky Massachusetts coast. In silent, unused bedrooms, he'd opened for Ben carefully polished mahogany armoires and brass-handled chests. He'd pulled out photographs and letter albums. Pictures of Henry James in Italy with Claudia's great-grandmother. Witty greeting cards and thank-you notes of equally revered distant cousins. “Sexy, huh?”

Ben had nodded, understanding this hidden fraternal advice. He hadn't bothered to remind Sidney that he'd had his share of failures with pedigreed as well as plebeian women. Once Sidney offered advice, Ben always gave it fresh consideration.

Sidney and Naomi were still in Sidney's examining room. The door was slightly ajar. Tapping on it lightly, Ben entered the room, saying, “Hi. How're you two getting on?” to Naomi. But she barely acknowledged him. Sidney was standing over her pink-sheeted, spread-eagled body, saying tutorially, “If you wanted an IUD, you should have come directly to me.”

Naomi looked tense. Her feet in the stirrups, she no longer displayed any of the garrulous confidence she'd shown in Ben's office. Looking at her, he remembered how often even the most blasé of women had told him that the gynecological position filled them with an almost inexplicable terror.

“Will it take long?” Naomi was asking Sidney as he measured her, her lips set in a wide smile, more propitiatory than sincere. Sidney turned away. “Will it hurt?” she asked, still smiling fixedly.

Sidney slammed a drawer and bent over her, holding in his hand a tiny plastic loop ornamented with minuscule hairs and, before the words were quite out of Naomi's mouth, inserted the loop. Ben saw Naomi blanch and clutch her stomach as if trying to push away the searing cramp the IUD sent twisting through her. Her body jerked for a moment, fishlike. Then at last Sidney answered her, his voice seeming to come from a long distance away. “Who are you to ask for pleasure without pain?”