by Robin Cook
“Because a grieving young girl has become paranoid under stress is hardly justification to fly umpteen thousand miles to hold her hand.”
“Giving Jennifer our support is not the only reason we are going,” Laurie responded, her ire rising.
“Run by me another reason!”
“I told you!” Laurie spat. “Maria Hernandez was like a mother to me for twelve years. Her passing is a true loss.”
“If it’s that much of a loss, how come you haven’t seen her since God knows when?”
Laurie saw red and for a second didn’t say anything. Jack’s comment made the growing confrontation much worse, as it effectively fanned Laurie’s guilt. It was true she hadn’t visited or even talked with Maria for a very long time. She’d thought about it and meant to do it but hadn’t.
“I’m on a deadline about my research paper,” Jack said. “And we have a neighborhood b-ball game on Saturday that I’ve been anticipating for weeks. Hell, I helped arrange it.”
“Shut up about the stupid basketball,” Laurie roared. She gritted her teeth and snarled at Jack. Like a volcano, all the resentment bubbling below the surface about the stress of infertility treatment emerged like a pyroclastic explosion. She also hated the fact that he continued to play basketball, which she thought was a dangerous game.
Jack was the first to remember that Laurie was currently undergoing daily injections of hormones, and although he actually had no inkling Laurie had been harboring resentment about his attitude, which he had had the delusion was fine, he had already experienced a number of surprising hormone-induced outbursts from Laurie, which she was plainly having at the moment. Recognizing this reality, he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to sound sincere. “I forgot about the hormones.”
For a brief moment Jack’s comment made things worse. Irrationally, Laurie thought Jack was merely trying to blame the current disagreement on her. But as she thought more about it, she could see the similarities between her current state of mind and when she’d torn into the eightysomething grandmother at the checkout counter at Whole Foods. A second later, the insight caused her to burst into tears.
Jack moved over to the side of the bed and put his arm around her. For a moment he didn’t say anything. From past trial-and-error experience, he knew it was the best thing to do. He had to wait for her to calm herself.
After a minute or so Laurie reined in her tears. Her eyes were bright red and watery when she looked at Jack. “You really haven’t been supporting me with this infertility stuff!”
Jack had to fight to resist rolling his eyes. From his perspective, he’d tried to do everything, and there wasn’t anything else for him to do except provide the sperm when required.
“When I get my period each cycle, you are so damn blasé,” Laurie said, choking back tears. “You just say, ‘Oh, well, maybe next time,’ and that’s it. You make no effort to mourn with me. For you it’s just another cycle.”
“I thought I was helping by making an effort to be nonchalant. Frankly, it would be easier to express despondency. But I never imagined that could be a help. I distinctly remember Dr. Schoener saying so herself. Hell, it’s the indifference I have to manufacture.”
“Really?” Laurie questioned.
“Really,” Jack said, as he brushed some strands of damp auburn hair away from her forehead. “And about India. I have nothing against you going, I don’t know Maria Hernandez or her granddaughter, Jennifer. For me, flying halfway around the world just doesn’t make sense for the time or the money, but mostly the money. Of course, I’ll miss you, and I would go if you needed me.”
“Are you just saying that?” Laurie questioned.
“No. If you needed me, I’d go. That’s for certain but—”
“I do need you,” Laurie said, with sudden enthusiasm. “You are indispensable.”
“Really?” Jack said. His bushy eyebrows knitted together questioningly. “I can’t imagine how.”
“The cycle, silly,” Laurie said excitedly. “Yesterday Dr. Schoener thought it would only be four or five days before I give myself the stimulating shot and follicular release will occur. At that point it will be your turn at bat.”
Jack exhaled fully. In his mind the infertility issue had not meshed with the proposed trip to India.
“Don’t look so glum. Maybe we should count on dispensing with the turkey-baster part and do it the real way. But I’ll tell you something, with the effort and stress involved, I’m not going to have you sitting here and me in India when this current crop of follicles bursts. Dr. Schoener is particularly optimistic because the left ovary fronting my good fallopian tube is the one that’s going great guns this time around.”
Lifting his arm from Laurie’s shoulder and sitting back against the headboard, Jack said, “Looks like we’re in for a quick trip to India, provided our fearless second-in-command lets us go. Maybe I can bribe him to say no!”
Laurie playfully swatted Jack’s thigh through the covers as she got up. “I just had a good idea. Since I’m going to need an ob-gyn consult to follow my follicles and do my blood work, maybe I can find one in the same hospital, the Queen Victoria. It might be helpful with Jennifer’s problem if we had a friend on the hospital staff.”
“Could be,” Jack said, as he shimmied down under the covers and then pulled them up around his neck. “A question about logistics: If we need visas, we’ll be needing passport photos.”
“In the morning we can use that all-night shop with the photo section up on Columbus Avenue.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Jack said, after taking a deep breath and letting it out noisily.
“Are you going back to sleep?”
“Of course I’m going back to sleep. What else am I going to do after midnight?”
“I wish I could sleep like you can. The problem is, now I’ve gotten myself all worked up.”
Chapter 13
OCTOBER 17, 2007
WEDNESDAY, 11:42 A.M.
NEW DELHI, INDIA
Jennifer felt totally frustrated. Despite how exhausted she was, even to the point of being slightly nauseated, she could not fall asleep. She’d drawn the heavy lined draperies, so the room was dark enough. The problem was that she was overtired and excited at the same time. The idea that Laurie might come was almost too good to be true and had her mind buzzing. Finally she thought, Screw it, and climbed from beneath the covers.
Dressed in only her panties, which was the way she’d gotten into bed, she went to the window and reopened the draperies, flooding the room with urban India’s hazy sunshine. Absently, she wondered how much hotter it would have been outside had all the pollution not blocked out a significant portion of the sun’s rays.
Looking down, Jennifer checked out the swimming pool. There were quite a few people enjoying it, although it was far from being crowded. It was a large pool. All at once Jennifer regretted not having brought a suit. It had never even crossed her mind when she’d packed for the trip, although now, looking down at the impressive expanse of blue water, it should have. After all, she knew she was going to a fancy hotel in a hot country. Jennifer shrugged. The idea they might have simple suits for sale occurred to her, but then she shook her head. As fancy as the hotel was, if they were to have suits for sale, they’d undoubtedly be designer and very expensive. It was unfortunate, because Jennifer thought some exercise might be just what the doctor ordered as far as helping her jet lag.
Thinking of exercise reminded Jennifer of the hotel’s gym. It occurred to her to put on jogging clothes, which she did bring, and ride a stationary bike and lift some weights. She was about to follow her own advice when she glanced at the time. It was closing in on noon, which gave her another idea: lunch. Despite the lingering mild jet-lag-induced nausea, she thought it best to try to normalize her diurnal eating pattern as a way of helping to deal with the completely topsy-turvy sleep situation.
Having no interest in impressing anyone that
morning, least all of the Queen Victoria people, Jennifer had worn a simple polo shirt over fitted jeans to the hospital, and after her nap attempt, she pulled on the same clothes. As she did so, she had an idea to see if Mrs. Benfatti might be willing to have lunch with her. Of course there was always the chance the woman might be in deep mourning and very depressed and not wish to be seen in public. At the same time, such a possibility was an indication of the appropriateness of asking her. As a medical student, Jennifer had witnessed all too often how death and sickness could actually isolate people in our society just when they most needed support.
Jennifer picked up the phone before she lost her nerve. She had the operator connect her to Mrs. Benfatti’s room, wherever it was in the hotel. Jennifer briefly held the receiver away from her ear for a moment while it was ringing to see if Mrs. Benfatti’s room was close by. She heard nothing.
Just when Jennifer was about to hang up, the connection went through. A woman whose voice was rough and slow answered. Jennifer guessed she had been crying.
“Mrs. Benfatti?” Jennifer questioned.
“Yes,” Mrs. Benfatti answered warily.
Jennifer launched into a rapid description of who she was and why she was in India. She thought she heard Mrs. Benfatti draw in a breath when Jennifer explained that her grandmother had died in similar circumstances as her husband only the night before.
“I am so sorry about your husband,” Jennifer continued. “Given my grandmother’s death only the night before, I can truly sympathize with you.”
“I’m equally sorry for your loss. It is such a tragedy, especially being so far from home.”
“Why I was calling in particular,” Jennifer said, “is the hope that you might feel like having lunch with me.”
Mrs. Benfatti didn’t respond immediately. Jennifer waited patiently, fully understanding that the woman was probably engaged in an internal argument with herself. Jennifer imagined that she probably looked a wreck from crying and being depressed, which was a big argument for her to stay in her room. At the same time, she’d be intrigued by the coincidence and would jump at the chance to talk with someone who was in the same awful situation.
“I need to get dressed,” Mrs. Benfatti said finally, “and to do something with my face. I checked myself out a little while ago, and as the expression goes, I look like death warmed over.”
“Take your time,” Jennifer said. She liked this woman already, especially if she was strong enough to mock herself at a very difficult time. “There’s no rush. I can wait for you here or in one of the restaurants, say the main one just off the lobby, or would you prefer Chinese?”
“The generic restaurant is fine. I’m not very hungry. I’ll be there in half an hour, and I’ll be wearing a violet blouse.”
“I have on a white polo and jeans.”
“I’ll see you there, and by the way, my name is Lucinda.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you there, Lucinda.”
Jennifer slowly hung up the phone. She didn’t know why, but she had a good feeling about Lucinda and was suddenly looking forward to lunch. Somehow, the nausea had mysteriously disappeared.
Having taken a Seat in the multileveled restaurant that had a clear view of the hostess table, Jennifer saw Mrs. Benfatti the moment she entered from the lobby—a least, she was quite confident it was Mrs. Benfatti. The woman was wearing a carefully pressed violet top over a darker purple skirt. She was a large woman with an ample frame. Her mousy-colored hair was medium-length and tightly permed. If pressed, Jennifer would have guessed mid-fifties or thereabouts.
Jennifer watched as she stopped to speak with the maître d’. When the maître d’ motioned for Mrs. Benfatti to follow and turned to head in Jennifer’s direction, Jennifer waved and Mrs. Benfatti waved back. As they approached, Jennifer continued to watch the woman. She was impressed by the way Mrs. Benfatti was walking with her head held high. It wasn’t until the woman got close and Jennifer could see her bloodshot eyes that it was at all apparent she’d just lost her life partner.
Jennifer rose and stuck out her hand. “Mrs. Benfatti,” she said. “So nice to meet you, though I’m sorry about the circumstances. Thank you for being willing to join me for lunch.”
Mrs. Benfatti didn’t speak right away. She let the maître d’ pull out her chair and then push it in once she was seated.
“Sorry,” she said when the maître d’ had left the table. “I’m afraid I have to struggle to keep myself under control. It’s all been so sudden. Yesterday when he came out of the anesthesia so easily and then had such a good day, I thought for sure we were out of the woods, and then this had to happen.”
“I understand, Mrs. Benfatti,” Jennifer started to say.
“Please. It’s Lucinda.” The woman dabbed at the corner of her eyes before sitting up straighter, visibly trying to regain and maintain control.
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Lucinda!” Jennifer said. Taking relative command of the lunch, Jennifer suggested they order their food to get it out of the way. Once they had that accomplished, Jennifer began talking about herself, how she was about to graduate from medical school, about losing her mother, and having been raised by her grandmother. When Jennifer paused as the food came, she was pleased that Lucinda asked a question. She asked about what had happened to Jennifer’s father, since Jennifer had not mentioned him.
“I didn’t?” Jennifer said with a humorously exaggerated questioning expression. “I’m shocked. Well, maybe I’m not shocked. That’s too strong. Probably the reason I didn’t mention him is because we never do, neither my two older brothers nor I. He doesn’t deserve it.”
In spite of herself, Lucinda chuckled, gently covering the lower part of her face with her hand. “I know the type. We have one of those in our family, too.”
To Jennifer’s delight, Lucinda picked up from there, and as they ate their respective lunches, Lucinda talked first about the disowned uncle who’d been sent to prison for a time. Next she talked about her two sons. One was an oceanographer at Woods Hole, Massachusetts, with one child, and the other a herpetologist at the Museum of Natural History in New York City, with three children.
“And your late husband?” Jennifer questioned with some hesitancy. She didn’t know what Lucinda’s reaction would be, but Jennifer was interested in eventually talking about the deaths of their relatives. She wanted to find out how far the similarities went.
“He had a pet store for many years.”
“Then I can see where the biologists came from.”
“It’s true. The boys loved the store and loved working with the animals, fish and all.”
“Why did you come to India for his surgery?” Jennifer asked, holding her breath. If Lucinda was capable of fielding such a question about a decision that had it been different, her husband might still be alive, Jennifer was confident there would be no holds barred as far as other questions were concerned.
“It’s simple: We didn’t think we could afford a knee transplant stateside.”
“I think it was the same with my grandmother,” Jennifer said. She was pleased. Although there was a slight catch in Lucinda’s voice, there were no tears. “Tell me,” Jennifer continued, “how have you found the Queen Victoria Hospital? Have they been easy to deal with? Are they professional? I mean, the hospital itself looks fantastic, which you can’t say about the neighborhood.”
Lucinda offered another one of her soft chuckles, which Jennifer was beginning to think was one of her idiosyncrasies, particularly the way she tried to hide the smile with her hand. “Isn’t all that trash just terrible? The hospital staff, including the doctors, act as if they just don’t see it, especially the child beggars. Some of them are demonstrably ill.”
“I’m equally mystified. But how have you been treated by the staff?”
“Excellent, at least at first.”
“How do you mean?”
“When we first got here, we were treated extremely well. Just look at this hotel.�
�� Lucinda gestured around the restaurant. “I’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice. It was the same at the hospital. In fact, the service at the hospital reminded us of a hotel. Herbert specifically said so.”
Mentioning her husband so casually made Lucinda pause for a moment. She cleared her throat. Jennifer let her take a moment. “But it was a bit different this morning.”
“Oh?” Jennifer questioned. “How was it different?”
“They are frustrated with me,” Lucinda said. “Everything was fine until they insisted I make a decision whether to cremate or embalm. They said I had to do it right away. When I said I couldn’t since my husband refused to discuss it out of superstition, they tried to force me. When I told them my two boys were coming and that they would decide, the hospital representative said they could not wait for someone to come all the way from America. They needed to know today. I could tell they were truly upset.”
Now it was Jennifer’s turn to chuckle. “I’m in the same circumstance,” she said, “and they are irritated at me for the same reason.”
“That’s a coincidence.”
“I’m beginning to wonder about that,” Jennifer said. “Where is your husband’s body?”
“It’s in a cooler someplace. I’m not really certain.”
“It’s probably in one of two walk-in refrigerators in the basement near the staff cafeteria. That’s where my granny is while we wait.”
“Why are you waiting?”
“A very good friend of mind is coming. At least, I hope she’s coming. She’s a forensic pathologist who works as a medical examiner. She’s going to help me and look at my granny. I’m thinking that my grandmother might need an autopsy, and the more they push me, the more I think she does. You see, my granny was not at risk for a heart attack. I’m quite confident in that.”
“We didn’t think Herbert was, either. His cardiologist examined him a little over a month before we came. He said he was fine and had a terrific heart and low cholesterol.”
