Robin Cook - Godplayer

They turned north off Route 128, heading toward the ocean. There were unexpected patches of heavy fog, and Thomas slowed down.

“I still don’t think talking about such problems is a good idea,” said Thomas, squinting through the windshield. “Especially to someone like Robert Seibert. It’s still beyond me how you can tolerate such an overt homosexual.”

“We never talk about Robert’s sexual preferences,” said Cassi sharply.

“I don’t understand how you could avoid the subject,” said Thomas.

“Robert is a sensitive, intelligent human being and a damn good pathologist.”

“I’m glad he has some redeeming qualities,” said Thomas, conscious that he was baiting his wife.

Cassi bit down her reply. She knew that Thomas was angry and was trying to provoke her; she also knew that losing her own temper would accomplish nothing. After a brief silence, she reached across and massaged Thomas’s neck. At first he remained rigid, but after a few minutes she felt him respond.

“I’m sorry I talked about my diabetes,” she said, “and I’m sorry I talked about my eye condition.”

Maintaining her massage, Cassi stared out the window with unseeing eyes. A cold fear made her wonder if Thomas was getting tired of her illness. Maybe she’d been complaining too much, especially with all the upset about changing residencies. Thinking about it, Cassi had to admit that Thomas had been distancing himself from her in the last few months, acting more impulsive and with less tolerance. Cassi made a vow to talk less about her illness. She knew, more than anyone, how much pressure Thomas put himself under, and she promised herself not to make it worse.

Moving her hand up his neck, Cassi thought it would be wise to change the subject.

“Did anyone say anything about your doing three bypasses while the others did one or two?”

“No. No one says anything because it’s always the same. There really isn’t anyone for me to compete with.”

“What about competing with the best: yourself!” said Cassi with a smile.

“Oh, no!” said Thomas. “Don’t give me any of that pseudopsychology.”

“Is competition important at this point?” asked Cassi, becoming serious. “Isn’t the satisfaction of helping people return to active lives enough?”

“It’s a nice feeling,” admitted Thomas. “But it doesn’t help me get beds or OR time even though the patients I propose are the most deserving both from a physical and sociological standpoint. And their gratitude probably won’t make me chief, although I’m not sure I want the position any longer. To tell you the truth, the kick of surgery doesn’t last like it used to. Lately I get this empty feeling.”

The word “empty” reminded Cassi of something. Had it been a dream? She glanced around the interior of the car, noting the characteristic smell of the leather, listening to the repetitive click of the windshield wipers, letting her mind wander. What was the association? Then she remembered-“empty” was the word Colonel Bentworth used to describe his life in recent years. Angry and empty, that’s what he’d said.

Emerging from the leafless woods, they sped across the salt marshes. Through the rain-swept window, Cassi caught glimpses of the bleak November landscape. Fall was gone, its last agonal bits of color driven from the naked tree limbs by the rain. Winter was coming, its arrival heralded by the damp chill of the night. They rounded the last bend, thundered over a wooden bridge, and turned into their driveway. Within the bouncing headlights, Cassi could see the outline of their house. It had originally been built around the turn of the century as a rich man’s summer home in the shingle style peculiar to New England. In the nineteen-forties it had been winterized. Its sprawling character and irregular roof line gave it a unique silhouette. Cassi liked the house, perhaps more in summer than in winter. The best part was the location. It was situated directly on a small inlet with a northern view of the sea. Although it was a forty-minute drive north of Boston, Cassi felt the commute was worth it.

As they pulled up the long driveway, Cassi thought back to when she had first started dating Thomas. They had met when she was sent to the Memorial on her internal medicine rotation her third year of medical school. She’d seen Dr. Thomas Kingsley one day on the ward. He and a group of residents who followed after him like puppies were evaluating a heart attack victim in cardiogenic shock. Cassi had watched Dr. Kingsley with fascination. She’d heard about him and was astonished that he looked so young. She found him extremely attractive, but she never thought someone as dashing as Thomas would ever give her a second glance, except perhaps to ask her an embarrassing medical question. If Thomas had seen her on that first day, he’d given no indication whatsoever.

Once within the hospital community, Cassi found that it wasn’t as intimidating as she’d feared. She worked very hard and to her amazement suddenly found herself very popular. Previously she had not had time to date, but at the Boston Memorial, work and social life merged. Cassi found herself actively pursued by most of the house staff, who taught her all sorts of things, frivolous and otherwise. Soon even some of the younger attendings began to compete, including a handsome ophthalmologist who could not take no for an answer. Cassi had never met anyone quite so single-minded and persistent, especially in front of his Beacon Hill fireplace. But it had all been fun and not serious until George Sherman asked her out. Without much encouragement from Cassandra, he sent her flowers, small presents, and then, out of the blue, proposed marriage.

Cassi did not turn George down immediately. She liked him even though she didn’t think she loved him. While she was still thinking over how best to handle things, something even more unexpected occurred. Thomas Kingsley asked her out.

Cassi remembered the intense excitement she had felt being with Thomas. He had an aura of self-assurance that some people might have labeled arrogance. But not Cassi. She felt he simply knew what he wanted and made decisions with bewildering rapidity. When Cassi tried to talk about her diabetes early in their relationship, Thomas dismissed the subject as a problem of the past. He gave her all the confidence she’d lacked since third grade.

It had been difficult for Cassi to face George and tell him that not only did she not want to marry him, but she had fallen in love with his colleague. George took the news with seeming composure and said he’d still like to be her friend. When she saw him on occasion in the hospital afterward, he seemed more concerned about her happiness than the fact that she had jilted him.

Thomas was charming, considerate, and gallant, a far cry from what Cassi expected. She’d heard that he was famous for intense but short relationships. Although he rarely told her that he loved her, he showed it in many ways. He took Cassi on teaching rounds with the fellows and had her come to the OR to see special cases. For their first Christmas together he bought her an antique diamond bracelet. Then on New Year’s Eve he asked Cassandra to marry him.

Cassi had never intended to get married while in medical school. But Thomas Kingsley was the kind of man that she had not even allowed herself to dream about. She might never meet anyone like him, and since Thomas was in medicine himself, she was confident it would not hinder her work. Cassi said yes and Thomas was ecstatic.

They were married on the lawn in front of Thomas’s house in view of the sea. Most of the hospital staff had attended and afterward referred to it as the social event of the year. Cassi could remember every moment of that glorious spring day. The sky had been a faraway blue, not unlike Thomas’s eyes. The sea had been relatively calm, with small white caps licked by the westerly breeze.