His Name was Ben

by Paulette Mahurin

  Knowing his brother was only watching out for him, this was not what he wanted to hear. “Come on. You’re getting all over my case.”

  Having been in a long surgery, Michael was tired and aggravated. “Hey! Wait a minute here.”

  “Okay, Mike, calm down.”

  “I just want you to keep your priorities straight.”

  Hearing the weariness in his brother’s voice, Ben felt foolish that he even bothered phoning him. “You’re right. It was stupid of me. It just pisses me off that I fell for it and.” He stopped himself. There’s no point in wasting any more time on that flake!

  When he hung up with his brother, Ben saw he had a message.

  Chapter Nine

  Not easily hot under the collar, reading the number made Ben furious. Who needs this kind of crap! He deleted the message but couldn’t stop thinking of her. Relentless thoughts battered him and the more they came the madder he got. The gall of someone playing games with a cancer patient! Still holding the phone when it rang and having half a mind to ignore it, instead he decided to read her the riot act. “You’ve got a lot of nerve phoning me again!”

  Speaking cautiously, hardly above a whisper, “Please, let me explain,” Sara pleaded.

  “Look, whatever it is you have going on,” his jaws clenched, “you need to leave me alone! I suggest you delete…”

  “I was in an accident.” Pausing to see if he would say something, when he didn’t she told him what happened.

  He watched the clock on the nightstand flip to a new minute and he knew he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. As he listened to her, his anger melted like snow in sunshine. Usually reticent, this situation with Sara caught him off guard. I should have tried to reach you to find out. Subjective assumptions were not how he was used to dealing with things, but then he’d never been diagnosed with a terminal illness before. “Oh, I’m sorry,” as he swiped a fly off his leg. “When will you be back at UCLA for your next treatment?”

  Scheduled for a blood draw, which she could easily do after if they were to meet, and it wouldn’t overly exhaust her, she replied, “Wednesday.” Healing from the injuries, which will be well underway by then, shouldn’t interfere with meeting him.

  “How about we meet then?” He watched the insect buzz over to the window, toward the light.

  Sara arranged for Ellen to drive and drop her off. She was grateful to Ellen for putting her life on hold to help her when she found out she was ill. Ellen hadn’t been involved in a serious relationship for a few years, since she’d broken up with one of the emergency room doctors she was dating. She had tried a couple of online sites but as she ran into less than honest men, she gave up on that. Still skittish from her abusive marriage eight years ago, were it not for Sara’s support back then she probably would have completely sworn off men. Ellen was in no hurry to dive into a relationship and being there for Sara, plus her job—she liked working in the emergency room helping frightened, intimidated patients—kept her plenty busy.

  Noticing Sara rapidly thumping her foot on the floorboard, “How you doing?”

  “I’m all over the place.” Sara observed a construction sign on the freeway. “I hope we don’t run behind time.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time and there’s not too much road work ahead.”

  Not wanting a repeat performance, “I don’t want to be late.”

  “I know,” laughed Ellen.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You’re going to wear a hole in my car if you keep that up.”

  Sara instantly stopped moving her foot. “Oh, sorry. Automaticity, burning nervous energy,” she grinned.

  “It’s a brave thing you’re doing. Maybe a little foolish,” Ellen laughed, “but courageous.”

  “Maybe a little stupid,” Sara returned the laugh, “or a lot stupider.”

  “Can’t wait to hear.” The GPS voice indicated a turn into the UCLA parking lot. “As if we hadn’t been here a zillion times. I should turn that thing off.”

  “Yeah, I’d like to turn off a few things as well. I’ll ring you in a couple of hours to come and get me.” Opening the door, “Don’t forget to pick me up by the hematology lab.”

  “Right, you’re having that done today. Okay, have fun and I’ll see you then.”

  Sara headed to the courtyard cafeteria behind the hospital, where they were scheduled to meet. Sweating like a horse, her palms grew clammy, and wiping the unwrapped hand on her pant leg left a mark. Oh shit, now it looks dirty. Trying to cover the spot with her purse, she turned a corner and saw him. I wasn’t wrong. He’s gorgeous.

  He glanced out from behind circular, lightly-shaded sunglasses. His deep blue eyes met hers and drifted down to her left arm in a sling adhered to her chest with an elastic bandage. “Hi, Sara,” he smiled.

  Looking down at the mummy wrap, “It’s to keep it immobilized.” She wondered if he heard the quiver in her voice.

  His smooth lips were soft when he spoke. “Here, let me help you.” He reached to open the door.

  After getting their food, she directed Ben to a quiet shaded place outside, away from foot traffic. “I spent a lot of time here,” indicating the exact spot with a head nod, “while in graduate school.”

  They shared small talk and the time passed with him telling her where he lived and what he did for a job and she explaining her work in the emergency room. “Where’d you go to school?”

  “Stanford.”

  “That’s a great school.”

  “Both my parents and older brother went to Stanford.”

  Reaching over to the saltshaker, her hand grazed his, sending heat tingling up her spine. “I’m sorry, what’d you just say?”

  He found it cute that her cheeks flushed. “My brother is a general surgeon. He practices there.”

  “That’s convenient to have a doctor in the family.”

  “Yes, it helps. He’s a good guy. Too busy though.”

  Taking a bite out of her bagel, a shadow from a cloud dilated his pupils and she wondered how she looked to him, what he thought of her; she couldn’t read his conservative body language. She took a gulp of water, and as the food in her mouth was washed down, so was the self-consciousness she felt with him watching her eat. “What do your parents do?

  “Both are retired. My father was an engineer and my mother an English teacher.”

  With Ben’s attention shifting back to her, Sara thought of her brother Jack but decided not to mention him or her parents. “So tell me, are you comfortable talking about seeing Zimmerman?”

  The last thing he wanted to talk about was his illness. “I’m curious to know how your study is going?”

  “It’s hard to believe it’s really happening.” And that I’m here with you.

  He pushed his plate away and listened to what she had to say about the study. “I can understand that.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and thought it interesting that she mentioned cancer but not what type and wondered why.

  She noticed he’d left most of his food uneaten.

  “I’m happy for your change of luck,” he smiled. “Maybe you’ll be a lucky charm for me.”

  His words found her soft spot, the place in her heart that ruled her head. Bursting to touch him, her skin was crawling with desire to feel his body. The sincerity in his responses—not quick, perfunctory, or glib, instead a relaxed thoughtful manner—was a turn-on. “What brought you to him?”

  Still not ready to talk about his disease, Ben told her about his brother’s connection. “Zimmerman decided to become an oncologist while rooming with Michael.”

  “Your brother’s also named Michael?”

  “Yes.” Breaking eye contact, deliberating on Zimmerman’s decision to specialize in treating cancer patients, he said, “I feel for Zimmerman, what he went through with his own mother. It’s why he went into oncology. He was planning on going into family medicine to begin with but then that changed.”

  “Care to share, if it’s not violating
any confidences?” Finishing her last bite of food, she was relieved her appetite was back but felt bad for him that his was clearly lacking.

  “No, it’s fine, he was open about it. His mother died of breast cancer. She was misdiagnosed and mistreated. I don’t remember all the specifics but apparently it was a bad scene.”

  The mention of breast cancer felt like being submerged in a tub of cold water. He can’t tell. Thank God my rib bandage is covering my chest. “Oh, that’s awful.” She felt empathy for Zimmerman—who never talked about himself, it wouldn’t be appropriate—dealing with cancer patients day in and day out. “I had no idea.”

  “One of his cousins, a well-known malpractice attorney, told him he had a substantial case for compensation. He refused to go there. He’s apparently allergic to our litigious society.” He remembered Zimmerman saying, It wouldn’t bring her back.

  “Really? Present company excluded, I’m sure.”

  “I’ve never been to court. I’m a paper pusher,” Ben joked, “and for the record since I work at NASA, you can call me a civil servant.” Returning to a serious mien, “I remember having a conversation with him a long time ago, and his telling me he hated the high cost of medical care.” Obviously relieved that the topic was off him personally, Ben continued to relay what he knew about Zimmerman. “He blamed litigation, corrupt billing, and the fear created by pharmaceutical ads on TV that sent hoards of patients to doctors needlessly in search of medication they didn’t require.”

  Sara watched him, how his hands gestured when he spoke, and the way his lips parted inviting sensuality. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” She sat up straighter facing Ben. “I’m sorry he went through that with his mother.”

  Ben nodded agreement.

  “He’s a rare bird and we’re fortunate to have him as our doctor.”

  “Yes, I really like him.”

  Toasty from the afternoon sun beating down on her back, Sara realized that they must have been together at least a couple of hours. She wanted to know more about Ben, his diagnosis, prognosis, but when she looked at her watch, it was time to get her lab work done.

  “You need to get going?”

  “I’m sorry about that. We just barely got started but I have to remember Ellen. My ride. I wish we had more time.” What she’d felt moments earlier, the anticipatory thrill over meeting him, their chemistry, was slipping away. I hope he wants to see me again.

  Feeling an easy affinity with her, a familiarity that he liked, he was disappointed she had to leave. The way the sunlight turned her hazel eyes bright green and lit up her freckled face was a beauty he was captivated by. She reminded him of one of his favorite law school professors; she had helped him make the Stanford Law Review and was there for him when no one showed up for his graduation, as Michael had an emergency surgical case that lasted through Ben’s ceremony. Seeing Ben alone, she’d offered to take him out for dinner. They developed a friendship—he had meals with her and her lesbian partner, another attorney. She wrote the reference letter that got him the job with NASA, but a few months later they’d drifted apart. Aside from his brother Michael, she was the only person he’d ever met who felt like family. “I was thinking…” He looked at Sara, wrapped up, unable to drive, in her own battle with cancer, and hesitated, wondering if it was a misguided impulse to pursue anything further. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea to…” As much as he wanted a connection with her, life taught him to play his cards close to his chest, to keep a safe distance. Up till now this self-protective barrier shielded him, preventing relationships from forming new raw wounds. The news he had advanced cancer cracked that wall.

  “Maybe what isn’t a good idea?”

  Her puppy dog eyes drew him out of any reluctance. “I’d like to see you again,” he glanced down at her bandage. “But if you’re not up for it, I…”

  Trying to calm her enthusiasm, she grabbed for his hand. “I’d really like that.”

  “Okay, then,” he smiled, “I’ll call you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ellen could tell the minute Sara got in the car how it went. “So?” She pulled away, listening to Sara gush about Ben for the next hour and a half, along the freeway and back to Ojai. “I’m so happy for you!”

  “I just can’t believe this is happening to me.”

  “You deserve it, Sara.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Sara smiled, “but I’m not arguing with any of it. I feel so lucky!”

  “Good karma.”

  “You’ve been hanging around Ojai too long,” Sara laughed.

  “Speaking of hanging around, do you want me to stay over? I’m off tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need to if you have things to do.”

  “I do have stuff to take care of.” Ellen drove up Sara’s driveway.

  “See you when you take me for my next appointment.”

  Taz, sensing Sara’s high spirits, ran in circles. “You know girl, don’t you?” Sara petted her dog and put on a Rod Stewart CD. On the couch, with Tazzie at her feet, she listened to “A Kiss to Build a Dream On.” Tuning in to the words, “So gimme your lips for just a moment and my imagination will make that moment live,” her mind went wild. Imagining making love with Ben, what his touch would feel like moving over her thighs, she became aroused. Pumping up the volume, she went to her bedroom.

  The next day, floating on air, she puttered around her place and did some reading. But the fortunate turn of events were not to last, for although Sara went to sleep happy at around midnight, she woke up three hours later, wheezing gasps through a cramped torso, like a guppy giving birth to a whale. When streaks of blood clots came up with coughing, she panicked and dialed 911.

  With great difficulty she put Taz out back and unlocked the front door for the paramedics. The few minutes it took the ambulance to arrive felt like hours. My skin feels soggy and is turning blue. Christ, am I having a heart attack? Oh God, I’m so dizzy. It can’t be a stroke! Growing weaker, the black hole of mortality swirled around her in slow motion. Is it the study I’m on? Please not the cancer!

  The last sound Sara heard before passing out was Taz’s barking. She awoke disoriented, unsure of where she was, in an unfamiliar hospital emergency room. Machines filling every available space did nothing to calm her nerves that broke through the sedative fluids running into her arms. Sara felt the prongs in her nose distributing oxygen and saw the concerned expression on an aide hovering as she slurred, “Where am I?” before blacking out again.

  Coming to in a private room in the Intensive Care Unit, a nurse adjusting one of her intravenous lines said, “You’re awake.”

  “What…”

  “You’re at UCLA.” The woman told Sara that she was stabilized in an ER in Ventura County and, “Zimmerman had you transferred here because of the study you’re on.” She finished straightening the tube in Sara’s arm. “That way you’ll be monitored by the physicians on the research team.” She explained that a pulmonary embolism had dislodged and settled in her lungs, making it difficult for her to breathe. “We think it’s from your recent auto accident.” Her medical records had been faxed there when she arrived, including the ER visit after the auto crash. “Clot busting and anticoagulant medications were given just in time and nothing further needs to be done other than keep an eye on you for a couple of days.”

  “I’ve never had a problem with clots.” Sara, still groggy, was lucid enough to know her history. “I’ve been in accidents and never…”

  “It could be the aftermath from the chemo you were on before, and it can also be a side effect of the treatment you’re on now. That’s one of the reasons you’re here, so they can watch you. At any rate you’re in good hands and are going to be okay.”

  Sara worried that it might be more than the recent injury or a drug adverse reaction. Her neck muscles tensed into a stranglehold. “I didn’t think a pulmonary embolism was a side effect of the meds I’m on.”

  “Correct, but lung swelling is.” T
he nurse was distracted by the beeping from one of the monitors, and after making a slight adjustment continued, “And while it’s still in trial phases, it’s unknown what can show up.”

  Lung swelling! Sara knew along with coughing up blood, the hoarseness she heard in her voice, and now neck pain, swelling could be an indication that cancer was in her lungs. “I’m assuming they did a scan to diagnose this?”

  “Yes, and it showed nothing other than the embolism.”

  “They’re sure,” Sara’s stomach twisted, “the swelling isn’t from a new growth?”

  The nurse nodded, “Yes, that’s what the radiology report said.” Injecting Ativan, she smiled, “You’re going to be okay.”

  Not convinced, Sara echoed, “They didn’t see any new tumor?”

  On finishing the infusion, “I read the report, and…” the nurse clamped the line to prevent air from entering and wiped the port with alcohol, “there’s no mention of anything else. The only reason you’re here is to be sure there isn’t some complicating factor from the research drug you’re on. There’s been absolutely no indication in your chart that any new growths have been seen.”

  Doubt was written all over Sara’s face.

  “Your lungs are clearing, indicating the swelling is reducing. That wouldn’t be happening if a mass was the problem.” Moving the sheet up over Sara’s chest, “Now you need to rest.”

  Reassurance from the nurse eased the tangles in Sara’s muscles while the fluids took effect, and she stopped caring about why she’d thrown a clot. As her breathing calmed she was able to comfortably inhale the air-conditioned breeze of disinfectant diffusing through the atmosphere, covering up disease and death. Antiseptic perfume flowed into her widened nostrils and she thought about what Tazzie would smell were she here. Having read about dogs finding cancers in samples of urine, she wondered if Taz sniffed out hers to begin with. “I need to phone my friend,” she slurred, “to watch my dog.”