"All The Way"
Chapter 5
Boston, Massachusetts. Dr. Diane Sanger's townhouse
Is it really possible to relive old times? Julia mused to herself as she watched Diane Sanger pour the bourbon into their glasses. How little her friend had changed over the years, still tall and slender, auburn hair styled in a fashionable pageboy, quick brown eyes and a tongue to match. Walking down the hall at Anan-Gen Research Laboratories with her friend, Julia felt at least 15 years younger. They walked quickly along the hallways of the lab, their conversations flowing as though they had never been apart. The conversation at Anan-Gen was research and professional, at Diane's townhouse the conversation took on a more bawdy nature.
Is it really possible to live old times? A knowing smile pulled at Julia's lips. Diane would never believe that not only could time be relived but visited and changed, that would always be her secret.
Julia surveyed the dining room table, the stacks of books, binders, and reports scattered on her friend's dining room table brought back memories. In the apartment they shared long ago meals were small and on the run. Sitting around their dining room table they would engage in heated argument, none directed toward each other but at the male establishment. Each day they waged war against a tide of male resentment and their stereotypes of women in medicine.
They expressed their frustration in colorful language. Julia was sure her mother would have fainted at their rowdiness. Her father called it 'grit'. Yes, they had 'true grit'. Diane would say they had "balls". They gave as well as they received. They demanded respect and gradually over time received it. It was a hard fought battle. Some of their male counterparts remained steadfast in their beliefs women and were not emotionally suited to be doctors. The male establishment believed women were suited for nurturing and should remain as care-giving nurses. Against all odd they had prevailed and were well established in their careers, secure in their identities.
Diane suggested they have lunch and an afternoon of shopping. Julia could not remember the last time she had shopped for clothing. Her friend reminded her they would be attending banquets and socials in the evening in conjunction with the AMA Convention and she needed something new. Reluctantly she agreed. Diane smiled and handed Julia her drink as they sat down side by side at the table, pulled over the two thick convention booklets and a small box. Opening the lid she slipped out two slender cigars, Tiperellos, and handed one to her friend.
"Do these bring back memories?" Diane asked sliding the slender cigar between her fingertips.
Julia took the cigar, feeling the smoothness on her fingers then brought the cigar to her nose, smelled the fragrant tobacco.
Old times could be relived. Unfortunately the bad came along with the good. The smell of the cigar tobacco was a potent reminder of a time long ago she tried to forget.
"Remember our 'road trip'?" Diane hinted.
Julia recalled the events preceding the road trip, memories she held in the back of her mind. The two friends had celebrated completion of rotations. She recalled how her father had been so proud; her mother on the other hand had been a different story. She wanted the best for her daughter, but a doctor. The idea of her daughter as a doctor seemed impractical. What kind of marriage would she have? Julia why don't you become a nurse, and marry a doctor she proposed. Her father shook his head and explained to her, 'Your mother loves you and only wants for you what her mother wanted for her. She wants you to be happy and secure in a traditional way.'
The following Friday evening her life changed forever. Late in the night they received a call from the emergency room and Diane had driven them to the hospital. They arrived too late. Standing in the hallway outside ER #1 she stared through the glass partition at the two covered tables. She recalled being in a vacuum, hearing no sounds that night, the frantic pace of the ER seemed to be occurring in a parallel universe. Diane was there, talking with the attending and head nurse, trying to speak for Julia who stood staring into the room.
She remembered opening the door and walking in. Within seconds Diane was at her side and took her hand. "Julia," she whispered in her ear, "My dear Julia, there's nothing you can do."
With determination she looked into Diane's eyes. "I've got to see them, Diane! I will not leave until I do!" she insisted between clenched teeth.
"Very well," Diane conceded, knowing her friend well, she turned and walked outside to confer with the staff. Slowly she removed the white sheets exposing their faces lacerated and bloody. Diane returned to the ER, closing the doors behind her. "Do you need help, Julia?"
"No," she had answered simply, "please wait outside while I finish my work."
Carefully she slipped on surgical gloves; taking materials from the prep trays she began her work. With meticulous care she had cleaned their wounds and lacerations. With forceps, scalpel, needle and suture thread she skillfully closed their wounds. Smiling sadly she recalled how she had always taken great pride in her skills as a surgeon and her sutures were always textbook perfect. With great love she tended their bodies, communing with them one last time, realizing a large part of her life had left with them. She felt her life slipping into a void and wondered how she would go on without them?
"Julia," her father's voice whispered to her, "My darling Julia, tears won't change the world. We must be strong, we must survive."
Julia bit her lip and felt great pride that tears did not fall as she inspected her work that night. The truck had veered across the center line as her parent returned from the opera. Her father had died instantly, her mother lingered moments in the ER. Julia felt Diane's fingers slip around her arm as their eyes meet. She felt her friend's love and was grateful.
After reading her parents' will the attorney handed Julia a letter, a letter from her father, a banker, a man who had always been a practical man even in death.
My dearest Julia,
I hope the circumstances never arrive when you must read this letter. I want you to know you and your mother have always been the center of my world. And now without me I want you to care for her. You have always been so strong, my dear one. Please guide and comfort your mother for me. I've treasured the moments I've spent with you and hope that I have taught you well so that you can move on without me. I've established a trust that will ensure your education in medicine.
Live your dream for me!
With all my love
Dad
Little did her father realize when he wrote his letter that she would become an orphan. The letter was her last communication with her father and his words remained with her.
I want you to know you and your mother have always been the center of my world.
She had only one other living relative, an uncle in Philadelphia. Diane Sanger became her friend and family.
Diane told her to pack her suitcase and she did. They filled the trunk of her friend's old convertible with their belongings. She remembered that day so well, the sun was shining; the air was fragrant with the newness of summer. They each resembled movie stars with their large sunglasses and scarves. She didn't feel like a movie star, only numb, as though nothing in the world mattered. Then ceremoniously, Diane pulled the box of Tiperellos from under the seat and offered her one. They lit their cigars from the same lighter.
"Well, kiddo, we've entered the domain of men."
She remembered Diane's words as though they were yesterday.
Diane lifted her chin and blew out three perfect circles of smoke, then grinned devilishly, "And since we weren't born with 'balls' we'll have to go out and develop them ourselves."
"I've established a trust that will ensure your education in medicine."
"Live your dream for me!" "Live your dream for me!"
She knew what she had to do and turned to Diane, hearing her father's words playing over and over in her mind, she answered simply, "O.K., let's go for it."
Diane watched Julia turn the cigar, smelling the aromatic tobacco her eyes staring off into space. She reached across the table and covered Julia's hand.
"I'm sorry. You know I only wanted you to remember the good times."
Julia turned and smiled, "I know, " she replied softly, placed the Tiperellos between her lips allowing Diane to light her cigar then her own. They both inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. Diane exhaled two perfect circles, Julia only one.
"I guess we're losing our touch," Julia observed. Diane gave a throaty laugh.
Diane waved the cigar around in an elegant flourish. "Remember the moaning competition, who could fake it the best."
Julia smiled slyly, and gave a deep, erotic moan.
"See," Her friend waved her hand again, "we haven't lost the touch."
Julia finished the bourbon in her glass, feeling the mellowness flowing through her veins. "I seem to recall the many conversations we enjoyed concerning men. You would think we were a pair of nymphomaniacs. I also recall the only male genitalia we encountered for months were between the sheets of Gray's Anatomy."
Her friend gave a fiendish giggle, the bourbon talking. "Are you saying we didn't like our men like our coffee, strong and hot?"
Julia opened the convention booklet. "You've forgotten the long lonely nights, the strong coffee and the cold showers."
The feisty redhead opened her convention booklet. "I wonder if we'll find some familiar names in here. You remember the guys from 2B in our apartment building?"
"Oh yes, the '2B or not 2B' guys," Julia recalled with a laugh.
Diane's eyebrows narrowed, "Do you remember their names? I recall one of them had a serious crush on you Julia."
Julia blushed slightly.
The feisty redhead held the cigar between her fingers and used it to add drama as she continued, "Yes, I remember now, Dave Woodard. Hey, didn't he call you from the Collinsport hospital. What ever happened with that, Julia?"
"Oh, Dave Woodard," Julia hesitated, rose to refill her glass with ice and bourbon realizing Diane was carefully watching her. She took a sip of bourbon hoping it would steady her nerves. "Dave Woodard is dead."
Her friend's eyes widened. "How did he die?"
"He had a heart attack in his office late one night. It was a massive heart attack." Who am I trying to convince? You played a part in Dave Woodward's death.
Diane pondered what she had said, "That's most unfortunate. Dave was a nice guy and a very conscientious doctor. Of course doctors make the worst patients, they ignore their own health."
Julia felt no comfort in her words; the guilt of Dave Woodard would always haunt her. She swirled the bourbon through the ice then consumed the contents in one gulp.
"What about Mr. Abnormal Cells?" Diane asked.
Julia's eyes widened slightly. "Mr. Abnormal Cells?"
"You know the man with the abnormal blood cells. Remember you mentioned him in one of your letters. You said you'd never seen anything like it. How did that case end?"
Julia cleared her throat, smiled weakly. "He's cured and doing quite well."
Her friend's eyes narrowed. "I can read you like a cheap romance novel, Julia Hoffman."
Julia took her seat beside her friend, avoiding eye contact, picked up her Tiperellos and inhaled deeply. Diane examined the end of her cigar as she spoke aloud.
"Something about this case doesn't make sense. A successfully cured case involving cells you've never seen before and you're not publishing a paper. I know you too well, Dr. Julia Hoffman. I don't recall your clinical narratives reading so colorfully. His bearing was courtly and his eyes a soft sable brown. I would say with that description you had gazed into those soft sable brown eyes many times, Julia. I suspect you were in love with Mr. Abnormal Cells. And from your reaction I suspect medically he was a success, but romantically, well romantically…" Diane turned and waited for Julia to finish her sentence.
Julia sighed deeply as she smoothed the fold of the convention booklet with one hand and nervously turned the Tiperellos with the other.
"No, it did not end well," Julia answered bitterly, "It took me five years to realize that things would never change. You know I do not give up easily. I worked very hard at this relationship." She bit her lower lip; felt her throat tightening as her friend's arm circled her shoulders for comfort.
Julia's voice was deep and cracking, "Sometimes you can love someone too much. You can love them so much you fail to see their serious flaws. We came so close, so close so many times," her voice trailed off feeling the anger surfacing, "but those flaws resurfaced each time."
Diane's eyes narrowed, took a draw on her Tiperellos, released three perfect rings, and smiled sadly, "Damn men! Can't live with them, can't live without them." She tapped the ashes in the ashtray. "You were just too good for him, Julia."
A slow smile spread across Julia's face. Perhaps Diane was correct, she did deserve better.
"I suppose you're right," Julia conceded.
Diane gave her a quick squeeze and with a toss of her head added, "Of course I'm right, just ask me."
They both laughed.
She turned a page in the convention booklet, "Enough of ungrateful men! Let's plan our week, shall we?"
Julia sighed deeply and smiled, feeling a little better as she turned the pages in her booklet. Yes, Diane was correct, she did deserve better.
~~~tbc~~~