Miriam Toews - A Boy of Good Breeding

“Your dad likes to rock,” said Hosea, smiling back at S.F.

“It’s my grandma’s car,” said S.F. in response.

Hosea knew that but he said, “Oh, I see,” and smiled again. Max’s song was over and he looked at Hosea.

“Hey, hi,” he said. “How are you?” Hosea nodded and smiled.

“Pretty good,” Hosea said. “Welcome back to Algren.”

“Thanks,” said Max, grinning. “Taking your hat for a ride?” Hosea smiled and wondered what Max meant. The light had turned green and Hosea was moving ahead, slowly, through the intersection. He didn’t hear Max yell, “Hey, your hat’s on top of the car!” As he drove down Main Street, Hosea looked right into the sun and breathed deeply.

He turned his own tape deck up loud and sang along with Emmylou. He got to the chorus and said “Guitar” along with Emmylou to her band mate.

Hosea parked his car in the hospital parking lot and glanced at himself in the rearview mirror. Where was his hat? Damn, he thought, and Lorna says I look good in it. He got out of the car and began to laugh. “I am such an idiot,” he muttered. He grabbed the hat from the top of the car and put it on his head. So, he thought to himself, I drive down Main Street singing and crying, with a hat on top of my car. He scratched his forehead and shook his leg a bit to realign his parts. “I could be senile,” he said out loud.

Hosea walked through the front doors of the hospital. There was nobody around. He walked over to the front desk and peered at the posted list of patients. He was looking for the name Cherniski.

“Hello, Hosea, making your rounds?”

“Oh, oh, hello, Dr. Bonsoir.” Hosea tugged viciously at his windbreaker and then stopped abruptly and stroked the brim of his hat. “How are you?” he said.

“Fine. Just fine. Call me Dr. Trèsbien, Hosea. How are you? How’s the chest pain?”

“Oh, it’s gone. It was nothing. Something I ate.”

“Hmmm. So, Hosea, mind if I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead, shoot. What’s on your mind?” Hosea coughed.

“What were you doing at the Cherniski residence the day she had her heart attack?”

“Me? Well, I was helping to rescue her dog.”

“Yes, but how did you know her dog was in trouble? How is it that you just showed up at that exact moment when her dog needed rescuing?”

“Well, I don’t know. Chance, I suppose. Coincidence? I was on my way to Johnny Dranger’s.”

“I see. Is he a friend of yours?”

“In a way. Yes.”

“Hmmm …” said Dr. François.

“How is she?” said Hosea.

“Hard to say at this point.”

Hosea told himself not to ask another single question. Why was the doctor acting this way? He stared hard at his shoes and tried to stop himself from opening his mouth. He put his hands in his pockets and felt the hard edge of his hips. He looked up and saw the doctor glance at his watch and then at something behind the desk.

“Do you think she’ll make it?” he blurted out and cursed himself inside. The doctor stared at Hosea. He opened his mouth and closed it. He smiled.

“What would you say if I told you I was thinking of leaving Algren?” said the doctor. He began to pace back and forth, his hands behind his back.

“Leaving Algren,” said Hosea. “But why?”

“For a better paying job in the States.”

“The States! Why would you want to go to the States?”

“More money, like I said. And other reasons. Genvieve won’t leave Montreal to live in a place like this.”

“But what about us? We need you!”

“Well, don’t worry, Hosea. I won’t leave until you have another doctor. You organize a hiring committee, put an ad in papers across the country, and see how it goes. I’m sorry, Hosea, I need to live in a bigger place. I need to move on.”

“It’s because of the Epps, isn’t it?”

“What about them?”

“Talking about suing you over the baby with the breathing problem.”

“No, no, Hosea. That was unavoidable. Any doctor has to be prepared for potential lawsuits and disgruntled patients. That’s not the problem. I’m a young man! I need a change! I want to practise in a large hospital and experience as much as I can. That’s all.”

Dr. François looked at Hosea. Hosea didn’t know what to say. He needed to get rid of a few more people, but if the doctor left he’d have to replace him. He couldn’t expect the Charlie Orson Memorial Hospital to function without a doctor. At least not for any length of time. Could he get away with not hiring a doctor just for, say, a month or two? Until after July first? The doctor put his hand on Hosea’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Hosea. You’ll kill yourself with worry.”

“I hope you change your mind,” said Hosea quietly.

“Well,” said the doctor, “we’ll see.” He paused. “Hosea,” he said, “I’ll keep you posted on Mrs. Cherniski’s condition.” The doctor removed his hand from Hosea’s shoulder and cocked his head. “Okay?” he said. Before Hosea could respond, three men came bursting through the front doors of the hospital. Two of them were helping Johnny Dranger walk and yelling at the doctor.

“He’s not breathing hardly at all, Doc!” said one. “You gotta do something quick!”

The doctor was calm. He helped the men lay Johnny down on a stretcher in the hallway. By now Nurse Barnes had showed up and was already administering oxygen to Johnny.

“What happened to his inhaler?” the doctor asked the men. They all shrugged.

“We don’t know,” said one of them.

“Was he putting out fires again?” asked the doctor.

“Looks like,” said one of the men. “He told us he’d just come from Whithers, some house fire he was helping on, his face was all full of ash and grit. He ordered a coffee, over at the Wagon Wheel, then started in on his coughing fit. Knocked his cup right off the table, and the gal over there, filling in for Cherniski, started yelling at him to get a grip. He started turning blue and he tried to talk but nothing came out, so the boys here and I stuck him in the back of the truck and brought him here. He’s looking better, I can see.”

Hosea stood beside Johnny, looking down at him and smiling. Johnny still couldn’t talk but his colour was coming back and his breathing had settled down. “I’m putting you back in, John,” whispered Hosea. Johnny blinked up at Hosea.

“Excuse me, Hosea,” said the doctor. “I’ll have to ask you to stand back a bit. He’ll be fine in a while. He’ll be out of here in an hour or two. Until the next time.” The doctor was muttering, “An asthmatic firefighter, I don’t understand …”

Hosea turned and walked towards the door. “Hey, Hosea,” said one of the men. “Isn’t that Leander Hamm’s hat you got on? He gave it to you?” Hosea froze on the spot but the man went on. “Looks pretty good on you, Hosea, looks sharp. Doesn’t it, Mel?” he said to the other man.

“Sure does,” said Mel. “That’s a bronc-bustin’ hat you got there, Hosea, you know that? You could be a cowboy if you got yourself a horse.”

Hosea smiled and said, “Well, maybe some day.” But the men weren’t listening. They were already making plans to get back to the Wagon Wheel and finish off their coffees, maybe find out more about the new gal taking over for Cherniski.

Hosea got into his car and backed out of his spot. He drove slowly down Main Street, nodding at the few people strolling along the sidewalk. Suddenly a dog stepped off the curb and sauntered across the street. Hosea slammed on his brakes and swore out loud. That damn Knute! She was supposed to get rid of that dog! Immediately Hosea felt bad about his outburst. He rolled down his window. “Uh, Bill Quinn?” he said. “Get off the road! Shoo! C’mon now, get going!” Bill Quinn turned his head to look at Hosea and then stopped in his tracks in the middle of the road. “C’mon now,” said Hosea. “I said shoo.”