Chapter 10

I sit through the rest of the conference day. I'm grateful for every remotely interesting presentation, as it keeps my mind from wandering, from making all possible assumptions.

During the lunch break, I have to fend off several other surgeons as they feel compelled to include me in their networking schemes. Why should anyone ever consider asking someone for professional advice if you have just met him once on a conference? If he is miles away? I hardly understand why people ask for professional advice constantly at all.

We are paid to know the answers. We studied long for it and are obliged to keep our knowledge up to date. If you do that, combined with the daily practise, you should be able to do your job. I can remember just a handful of occasions where I had felt the wish to confer with someone else, but I found out on all of these occasions that I never found anyone able to help me. So in my experience networking means that others spare themselves the trouble to thinking about a solution and rather call me to do their work. Thanks, but no thanks!

I used some less interesting presentations to make a list of all the things I need to do before I'll pack my things tomorrow and board the flight. I can't wait for the conference to end. I miss Louisa and James Henry terribly. Speaking with him this morning had only made me miss him more.

I try to think about the consequences that my recent actions may have on his life. I hope he will profit from my decision.

Well, maybe nothing will change, after all. There still is this possibility, but somehow I can't see that it will be a very realistic one.

I've almost made it through the day now and I'm anxiously awaiting the end of the discussion of this last presentation. It is just before 5 p.m. At eight, the dinner will start. I decided that I have to show myself there for the sake of Imperial.

The discussion is still going on, when I feel the vibration alarm of my mobile in my breast pocket. I look at the display. Louisa is calling me. I get up abruptly and squeeze through the rows to get to the door. I vaguely register some swearing while I answer the call.

"Louisa?"

"Martin, can you speak?"

"Uhm, in a moment."

"Your day has ended, hasn't it?"

"No."

"Oh, I thought at five?"

"It's not always that punctual. Sometimes topics are discussed longer than planned, leading to delays."

"I don't want to keep you from any interesting discussions. Just call me as soon as you've finished."

"I have."

"But I thought…"

"The discussion haven't, but I have."

"I see." There is something in her voice that I don't like, as if she disapproves of something. "I can call you later if you prefer. There is no need to keep you from the discussion."

"Nothing interesting. Some stupid idiots didn't get their facts right. Anything wrong? Are you alright? Is James Henry fine?"

It is unusual for Louisa to call me. As you can't always tell for certain at which time you'll be available on conference, we had agreed that I'd call her every night. There must be something serious if she decided to call me. I think I know what that is, but I want to be certain that there is no more serious reason.

"Yeah, don't fuss. James and I are fine."

"Good. Is anything else the matter?"

"I should be asking you?"

"I'm fine." I quickly reply.

"Sure?"

"Absolutely."

"It's not often that you call someone in the middle of the night, but last night you did. Then you called James today, and it must have been during the conference, and you never do that either. So I'm worried."

"No need."

"You seemed…upset…last night."

"Me? No."

"So will you please tell me what this is all about?" While we have been talking I had retreated to my room and now I slump down on the bed, while I keep on listening to Louisa's attempts to make sense of my actions. "What is it about me having to come to Paddington?"

I remember our nightly conversation.

"Could Charlene take your shift?"

"Shirley." Louisa corrects me swiftly, as she always does. Sometimes it seems to me she has a whole telephone book in her head as she can address all friends and colleagues with correct Christian and surname and furthermore has basically all telephone numbers memorised, too. "Yes, I can make it this weekend, but I certainly want to know why I had to re-arrange all my appointments."

"We're going away this weekend."

"Thanks very much for this valuable information. Your request for me to meet you at Paddington with luggage actually gave me a hint. I just want to know where to."

"Ehm…You'll see on Friday."

"To be honest…Martin. I…I talked to James earlier, and he quite excitedly told me that our journey would be a surprise, for him as well as for me. Please, don't take it the wrong way, but you're not really so good at surprises." I can hear in Louisa's voice that she is rather tentatively trying to tell me that I'm rubbish in surprising her, and I do know that. The few attempts I have made ended rather disastrously.

I briefly realise contently how far we have come that I can even read her moods and intentions over the phone, while they had been a closed book for me for years. She is on the edge, but so am I. She does like being in control, as I have learned over the years, and so do I. Normally we inform each other about every step, so our interests don't clash. I can see that me planning this journey without informing her must be almost unbearable for her. However, I do not dare to inform her this time.

"Trust me." Is the best I can say.

"Has something come up during the conference?" She has to know more and I really hate to leave her in the limbo, but if I don't want to jeopardise my plans I do have to stick with it.

"Like what?"

"Martin, if you've gotten another job offer worth considering you can't just pack all your things inclusively James and me into your Lexus and drive off. Not now, when I finally have made some friends here. I don't want to start new. Not again. Really, Martin, that is so thoughtless…"

I simply do have to stop her there, as she is getting excited without any good reason at all. How can someone get so worked up without any reason at all?

"Stop it." I say more harshly than intended.

"Oh, that's the way it is!" Louisa is now truly angry. "You really do think that we are your private property and that you can pack us wherever, whenever you like!"

"Louisa, you don't even know what this is all about, but…"

"Exactly, because you refuse to tell me! When will you ever learn that decisions have to be made together?"

"I HAVEN'T MADE ANY DECISIONS!" I practically bark into the speaker. Why does she have to expect the worst and get excited at the product of her imagination?

"Oh…uhm…that's good…I suppose." Louisa's rage has softened a bit.

"We are just going away for a weekend, on Monday we'll be back home. Do you understand?"

"If there isn't more to it than a weekend trip, then I don't understand the secrecy nor the urgency. Couldn't you tell me before you went to Ithaca?"

"I didn't know then."

"So something has come up during the conference."

"Not really."

"Is it a job offer?"

"No."

"So why do we have to go, and this weekend?"

I breathe heavily. I don't like conversations like this. I don't know what to say. There is a good reason why we have to go this weekend, but I can't tell her that. I can't lie either, I never was good at that. Louisa is in a difficult mood and I can't just ignore her question.

I sigh.

"Martin?"

"Yes?"

"Is something wrong with you?" She sounds worried.

I ponder a moment about the right answer. Physically I am fine, but something feels off.

"I miss you."

There is silence at the other end.

The silence fills the room, it expands and it seems to me that this silence fills the whole distance between London and Ithaca.

The worst thing is that I had realised now that this silence had filled our flat, too. This distance that has always been there between us.

After what seems ages Louisa's voice is filling the silence. "You're back on Friday. The worst is over."

"No, I missed you before."

"What?" Louisa can't understand me. I can't blame her. I hardly understand myself anymore.

"I'll explain when I'm back. It's complicated."

Silence is again filling the line, the room, my brain.

"Are you really sure that you are fine? You seem…odd? Has something happened?"

"Nothing."

"Has this anything to do with this mysterious weekend trip?"

"I just want to be with you and James."

This time a short silence follows and when Louisa speaks she's stating a fact, not asking. "Without my appointments being in the way. Without your work on the desk."

"Just us."

"Sorry, Martin. I'll be at the station."

"Good."

"Anything else? Do you need me to bring something? Anything special to pack?"

"No. Everything's sorted."

"So that's it for now. Will you call later?"

"There's some idiotic dinner later."

"But you never go."

"I have to."

"Are you really feeling well?"

"Robert insisted."

"He has before and you ignored him. Are you sure that there is no business change ahead? You'd tell me?"

"No."

"You wouldn't?"

"No, there isn't. It's just part of the job."

"I guess you'll survive. Once."

"Hopefully. It'll be too late to call when I'm back in my room."

"So you call tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Try to enjoy the evening."

"I won't. Sleep well."

To be continued…