Acute Reactions

by Ruby Lang

She had a patient arriving in five minutes. She started to go through her notes.

  “I mean, it’s too soon!” Ellie wailed.

  “Seriously? You’re getting upset about this now, after screaming at me to be more supportive and stop being negative?”

  “It’s just so soon. I wanted a little more time to prepare.”

  “Well, you’ve had six more months than me. Suck it up.”

  Petra hung up.

  She took a deep breath. Ellie had been preternaturally calm for most of her life. She was entitled to a flip out occasionally. After a cooling-off period, Petra would call again and try to smooth it out. But Ellie was not going to spoil her mood.

  She stuck her chin out and gave a determined smile.

  Her patients today were the usual mix of the itching and the cursing. She dropped a few shots and rubbed cream on arms. She administered spirometry to a coughing fifty-year-old bank manager and jumped up and down shouting encouragement to blow. It was times like these that Petra wished that her office walls were a little thicker. Three times, they performed the test; the bank manager’s forced expiratory volume sucked. Petra told Joanie to arrange for a follow-up appointment.

  Before she knew it, it was lunchtime. Joanie was out so Petra took a call from her landlord, Mr. Willand. He told her that the downstairs tenants were moving out and asked if she would she be interested in taking over the space. Petra put down her yogurt and tried not to laugh too hard.

  She did not tell him that she was barely getting by, but she did let him know that there would be little chance that she’d need the extra room.

  “The downstairs is not that big or expensive. I’d rather have someone take both spaces at once,” he started to say.

  They had decided on a short-term lease, which although it was unusual for a business, Petra thought prudent at the time. The landlord argued that they could renew at the end of the year. He seemed, at the time, to like the idea of a doctor taking the upstairs office. Now Petra realized that she might have hamstrung herself with her cautious move. It was as if she had expected herself to fail, that she had expected to give up the business, and tried to cut her losses ahead of time.

  Willand said something about how much trouble it was to have two separate tenants, how the quilters on the first floor had been pretty much perfect except for the fact that quilting was probably not the most profitable enterprise, and he speculated about how much he could get for the spaces combined, as if she weren’t there.

  “But you’ll renew me for next year if I want to?” she asked, her anxiety kicking to a higher pitch.

  She couldn’t relocate her practice. She loved this place and it had been hard enough getting people in the door to begin with. How would she do it if she had to change addresses, move delicate allergen bottles, and print new business cards? What if she had to leave the neighborhood? She’d have to get a car. She could definitely not afford a car.

  Mr. Willand sighed gustily and gave a wobbly, “Well, we’ll see, Doc,” which didn’t bode well at all.

  The third phone call came from Kevin’s father’s administrative assistant.

  She informed Petra that all of Kevin’s future appointments were canceled.

  • • •

  “Heard that you and the doctor crept out of here late last night,” Gerry said, standing in the doorway.

  Ian looked up from his computer. In truth, he hadn’t been getting much work done, especially because Petra had been sitting naked on his lap on this very chair just last night, and she had told him that she loved him.

  He was never getting rid of this chair.

  “It’s very, very serious,” Ian tried to say seriously. He was hampered by the shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Oh, I’ll say,” said Gerry. “You’ve got it bad.” He dropped into a chair. “Am I going to have to go ring shopping with you?”

  “It’s too early to tell,” said Ian. In truth, he had already been thinking about what would look good on her small, cool fingers.

  There was his mother’s silver ring. He thought about giving it to Petra, later. It was beautiful, and the kind of thing she might like. But he thought about his parents’ marriage, the false starts and imperfections, the loneliness. It was definitely far too soon, he told himself.

  “I’ve decided to hire an assistant manager for Field. I need to loosen my grip on a few things,” Ian said.

  Gerry pretended to choke. Ian ignored him.

  “It’s hardly a fledgling business anymore,” he continued. “Lilah is doing well with Stream. Yet I’m still out there, working repairs and dealing with taxes and permits, bussing tables, and generally just doing anything that needs doing. I realize that I should have just hired people for this a long time ago. It makes no sense for me to be in this place all the time. I thought I’d start to retreat from the business more formally. Maybe take a vacation or go traveling.”

  Take Petra to Bora Bora and make love to her until neither of them could walk straight.

  “Finally, finally, the day has come when Ian Zamora, the seemingly lazy and charming playboy admits that his steely control freak side exists. Whatever will the world do? Will the walls cave in? Will the sun start revolving around the moon?”

  “The steely control freak is not amused by your sarcasm.”

  “Who knew that it would take bringing a woman down here to make you give it up? Maybe the doctor is good for what ails you.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “We’re one short on the floor,” called one of the servers. “Jenny’s nowhere to be found.”

  Ian sighed. “I guess I won’t be stepping back tonight.”

  Gerry and Ian went upstairs. The dining room was pleasantly full. Ian moved around and greeted a few regulars. But the servers were definitely a little stressed. Ian sidled up to Winn.

  “Any idea where she might be?”

  “We’ve been run off our feet and girl chooses now to disappear. Last time I checked, she was headed to the bathrooms. I think with a customer. A male customer.”

  Winn rolled his eyes.

  Really? Ian thought, heading toward the bathroom. Really, Jenny?

  Ian rattled the door and called.

  No moans, no giggling, no thumping. Despite what Winn assumed, Jenny wasn’t having sex in the bathroom. He flushed slightly, wondering what he and Petra had sounded like last night, and wondered if any of his staff had heard them.

  But the silence was worrisome. Even if someone had a legitimate reason to be inside, he would have said something. Was someone dead in there? Had something happened?

  Ian took out his Swiss Army knife and stuck a long prong in the doorknob. It opened easily.

  Jenny was sitting on the floor holding her hands over her chest. The customer, a young businessy-type in a rumpled suit, was leaning over the counter holding a baggie with white powder.

  Ian didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to involve police or ambulances. He just wanted it gone. He made sure Jenny was reasonably well, called her roommate, and sent all of them away in cabs. He was smoothing it over. The thought was fleeting. He put his head down and worked, waiting tables that night for the first time in—well, it hadn’t been that long. It might be a good idea to create a list of substitute wait staff, he thought, instead of always trying to do it himself. He would track down some Field alum and see if they wanted to earn extra money on occasion.

  Petra was making him more efficient, he decided after the restaurant closed. This was all stuff that he had put off and thought they couldn’t afford. It was what he used to do because he could just go and be alone and fix the damn refrigerator for an hour and no one would bother him. He thought of his mother and her incessant cleaning. He thought of his father and how often the man simply disappeared.

  But tonight, he was tired of all that. He wanted to take a shower and sink into his couch, or rather, sink into the couch with Petra dozing against him. He wished she were there. He added giving her a set of key
s to his to-do list.

  The phone call came as he was about to turn down his block.

  “Are you busy?” she whispered.

  “No. I was just thinking about you. Are you all right?”

  Her voice sounded shivery and frail. His heart clenched as he waited for her answer.

  “I lost Kevin,” Petra said. “I mean, he’s fine,” she added quickly. “He’s gone as a patient. His father’s secretary called and told me that they’re switching to a different allergist. They didn’t explain, but I’m guessing the dad was disturbed because I was out with him.

  “The worst thing is,” she continued, “I know I crossed the line. I did the wrong thing last night—I made several bad choices. I adore Kevin. I know I’m not supposed to get involved, but how can I help but get involved in his life?”

  “You did nothing wrong. Kevin followed you. The man is being a jerk.” He switched the phone to his other ear and picked up speed. “I’m coming over.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said dully.

  “Hey, I know Kevin, I know how the little bugger can get under your skin. I’ll just pick up some clothes from my place and be over there in fifteen minutes, all right?”

  Maybe he could have a quick shower at her place. Maybe he could convince her to join him. He had never been in her shower before, he realized.

  Was he a jerk for thinking about sex when his girlfriend was obviously distraught?

  He felt reasonably confident that Kevin would be able to talk his father out of this. This was Kevin, after all. The kid was persistent. Ian would give Kevin some pointers tomorrow, he decided, maybe discuss strategy with him.

  He had no doubt he could smooth this over, too.

  • • •

  Petra looked calm when she opened the door to him. Her face was scrubbed clean for bed, and he loved how bare and soft it looked. He touched her nose.

  She sighed and put her cheek in his palm.

  “I think I may not be cut out to be a physician,” Petra said.

  “That’s not true.”

  “I can give people the right medicine and keep up with the research, and all the clinical stuff. But it’s more than that. Obviously, I care about my patients, but I just don’t know how to strike the right balance. I messed up with Kevin. Sometimes, I still wonder if I messed up with you.”

  Ian felt an initial shiver. “Let’s not go down that road right now, okay?” He guided her to the couch.

  “I’ve lost two patients that I couldn’t afford to lose,” Petra said. “I might lose more before the year is out.”

  She told him about her landlord’s phone call. Ian shook his head. “You can find another location. I’ll help you. I know a good commercial broker and she’ll be able to give you better advice about selecting a space and negotiating a lease than your last one did. Patients will follow if you give them enough notice. This has nothing to do with your abilities as a doctor,” Ian said. “It’s just business.”

  “Being a physician is also about being a businessperson,” she said. “Not that they teach you any of that in medical school. But I can’t help anyone if my practice fails. I have a responsibility to my patients in that way, too. It’s not something I can compartmentalize. I’m just too much of a mess all over.

  “I envy you, in a way,” she said, her voice a little muffled. “Things seem to come easy to you.”

  He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his face. “Petra, if you think things come easy to me, then you don’t know me well enough yet,” he said. He let a little of his frustration show. “I’ve had a hell of a day, too, as a matter of fact.”

  Petra was silent. Then she shook her head. “That was unfair of me. I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “Had to fire a server. She was doing drugs in the bathroom with a customer. It was a mess.”

  “God, I’m sorry, that sounds awful. Is she okay?”

  “It’s all right. It’s done. Look, we can talk to Kevin tomorrow, see if he can persuade his dad to let you be his doctor again.”

  “I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right for me to use my influence on Kevin to undermine his dad’s authority.”

  “Do you always have to be scrupulous about this? Isn’t there any wiggle room in these rules for doctors now and then? Aren’t you allowed to be human?”

  Her face set and she was about to say something again. He held up his hand. “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk to Kevin.”

  But he would, he told himself. There was nothing that said he couldn’t say anything.

  Petra sighed. “Another thing. My mom is getting married on the Saturday after next. I managed to get a hold of her today. It’ll be small. If you come, you can meet my sister.”

  “Of course I’ll be there.”

  He felt tense. He had thought that he would be the one consoling her and that later, he could make her feel better. Instead, he was pushing against her. Their peace seemed to be a delicate line. The only thing that kept them from screaming was his wish that they not fight. He asked if he could use her shower and she nodded. “You know,” he couldn’t help saying before he disappeared into the bathroom, “you can’t use this stuff as an excuse to say everything in your life is shot to hell. Just because one thing is not perfect doesn’t mean everything else will be terrible. It’s an overreaction. You just need time to let things settle down. It will all be fine.”

  Ian didn’t allow himself to see her face before he went in. He was afraid of how she might look.

  When he came back out, she was already in bed. She lay on her back staring glassily at the ceiling. She wore a raggedy Ramones T-shirt. He kissed her and wrapped his body around hers. She stroked his hair. He could tell how tired she was, but he was content to be holding her.

  “Yesterday, I was so happy,” she said, before she fell asleep.

  He lay frozen with her form heavy in his arms. His mother had said something like that before, on the plane, when they were taking off from PDX after leaving her town again. They were going back to South America that last time. She had mumbled it over and over again. Not long afterward, she was dead.

  He turned over and looked at Petra’s face.

  He wasn’t enough to make her happy, he thought. He wasn’t enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  At least she had managed to get enough sleep, Petra thought as she woke the next morning. Ian clutched her particularly possessively. His arm anchored around her waist, his body molded to hers as if to prevent her—or himself—from drowning. She worked herself free and sat up on the side of the bed, pausing for a moment to stare at his still sleeping torso. He really was perfectly formed, she thought, tracing his lats and deltoids with her eyes. Even at rest, his muscles formed crisp lines in his shoulders and arms, interrupted only by the burr of wiry hair on his chest.

  Perfect.

  Unease wormed itself into her.

  She had been goading him last night, and she didn’t know why. It was as if she wanted him to admit to some unspecified wrongdoing. Maybe she wanted him to agree with her, that she was at fault about Kevin, that she was a terrible doctor and businesswoman. And she was, of course. Then again, she also didn’t want him to agree. She just wanted to see how far she could push him before he got frustrated. He had gotten angry, but not over her, not over what she deemed her incompetence as a physician. He had been unhappy with her unhappiness.

  Frowning and dissatisfied, she headed for the shower.

  • • •

  Petra was gone before Ian woke. He had slept badly, tossing and turning through the night.

  The first thing he did was pop off a text message to Kevin. The kid didn’t reply, but that was okay. Teens went to school, didn’t they? Maybe later, Ian could arrange to meet Kevin at Field. He didn’t think it would be hard to get Kevin to convince his father.

  The easiest of his tasks completed, Ian worked his way through a to-do list that included composing an ad to find a manager for Field, finding a new linen supplie
r, calling a dishwasher repairman, checking Lilah’s tweets for Stream, and, of course, putting together Jenny’s dismissal letter and calculating her final paycheck.

  Frowning, he added a personal note, asking her to let him know if she was okay.

  Ordinarily, he worked through administrative stuff dispassionately, but today, he found it hard not to be angry at the old linen supplier for failing to get the tablecloths white, and at the repairman for ducking Ian’s calls, at Lilah for the constant chatter, and at Jenny for jeopardizing herself and her job. He was definitely not pissed off at Petra.

  He took a deep breath. He was definitely not pissed.

  If anything, he was angry at himself. That was not a new feeling.

  His phone rang and he checked the screen. It was Danielle. With trepidation he picked up.

  “Ian, I had no one else to ask, and I was wondering if you’d do me a favor. Would you mind taking Snuffy for me?”

  “I can’t. I’m allergic and Petra is, too.”

  He realized belatedly that he shouldn’t have let Petra’s name slip.

  “Tsk, tsk. An allergic allergist. It’s like the cobbler’s children who have no shoes. But I don’t really have a lot of options. No one else knows him the way you do.”

  “Can’t you board him?”

  Danielle paused. “I was hoping you could take him, you know, for the long term.”

  “First of all, no. And second, were you thinking that you could sneak the longer term by me? How long are we talking?”

  “Well, for a good long time, actually. You see, I’ve met someone. You know him, actually. Juan, from Carioca. And,” she hesitated, “we’ve decided to move in together.”

  “How nice for you two,” Ian said drily.

  “You could be happier for me. After all, you found yourself another girlfriend quickly enough.”

  Ian tapped on his laptop.

  After a short silence, Danielle continued, “Juan is allergic to cats.”

  Ian groaned.

  Danielle continued, “And since Snuffy is used to you, I thought—”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “Listen, Ian, you know I’m not one of those people who likes to play hardball. I try to negotiate with every side in mind. But I need to do what’s best for Snuffy. In this case, I think it’s leaving Snuffy with a person who has shown him attention and knows his quirks. Plus, you’re such a straight arrow, you’ll make sure he’s taken care of well.”