John Irving - Until I Find You

Dr. Huber had a look at her pager while shaking Jack’s hand. “I’m just an internist,” she was telling him. “You know, a normal doctor.” Then her pager beeped and she dropped Jack’s hand as suddenly as she might have if he had died. She went to the telephone in the room, which was just inside the door. “Huber hier, ” she said into the phone. There was a pause before she added: “ Ja, aber nicht jetzt. ” (“Yes, but not now.”)

Jack was sure that he recognized Dr. Anna-Elisabeth Krauer-Poppe—the fashion model who protected her clothes in a long, starched, hospital-white lab coat. She looked knowingly into his eyes, as if trying to discern what medication he was on—or what she thought he should be taking. “You have your father’s good hair,” she observed, “if not—I hope not—his obsessions.”

“I’m not tattooed,” Jack told her, shaking her hand.

“There are other ways to be marked for life,” Dr. on-the-other-hand von Rohr remarked.

“Not all obsessions are unhealthy, Ruth,” Dr. Huber, the internist, said. “It would appear that Mr. Burns adheres to his father’s diet. Don’t we all approve of how William watches his weight?”

“His narcissism, do you mean?” Dr. von Rohr asked, in her head-of-department way.

“Are you seeing a psychiatrist, Mr. Burns?” Dr. Berger, the fact man, asked. “Or can we rule that out?”

“Actually, I have been seeing someone,” Jack told them.

“Ah, well …” Professor Ritter said.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of!” the deputy medical director, Dr. Horvath, shouted.

“I don’t suppose you have any indication of osteoarthritis,” Dr. Huber said. “You’re too young,” she added. “Mind you, I’m not saying that William’s arthritic hands are anything you need to worry about. You don’t play the piano or the organ, do you?”

“No. And I don’t have any symptoms of arthritis,” Jack said.

“Any medications we should know about?” Dr. Krauer-Poppe asked. “I don’t mean for arthritis.”

“No, nothing,” he told her. She looked somewhat surprised, or disappointed—Jack couldn’t be sure.

“Now, now!” Professor Ritter called out, clapping his hands. “We should let Jack ask us some questions!”

The doctors cheerfully tolerated Professor Ritter, Jack could tell. The professor was head of the clinic, after all—and he doubtless bore lots of responsibilities of a public-relations kind, which the doctors probably wanted nothing to do with.

“Yes, please—ask us anything !” Dr. Horvath, the skier, said.

“In what way are mirrors triggers ?” Jack asked.

The doctors seemed surprised that he knew about the mirrors—not to mention triggers.

“Jack had a conversation with Waltraut, about taking William shopping for clothes,” Professor Ritter explained to the others.

“Sometimes, when William sees himself in a mirror, he just looks away—or he hides his face in his hands,” Dr. Berger said, sticking to the facts.

“But other times,” Dr. von Rohr began, “when he catches a glimpse of himself, he wants to see his tattoos.”

“ All of them!” Dr. Horvath cried.

“It might not be the appropriate time and place for such a detailed self-examination,” Professor Ritter explained, “but William seems not to notice such things. Occasionally, when he starts taking off his clothes, he has already begun a recitation. ”

“A what?” Jack asked.

“His body is a tapestry, which he can recite—both a history of music and a personal history,” Dr. Huber said. Her pager beeped, and she went back to the phone by the door. “Huber hier. Noch nicht! ” she said, annoyed. (“Not yet!”)

“The problem for someone with your father’s meticulousness is that he can never be meticulous enough, ” Professor Ritter told Jack.

“He’s proud of his tattoos, but he’s very critical of them, too,” Dr. Berger said.

“William thinks that some of his tattoos are in the wrong place. He blames himself for a lack of foresight—he has regrets, ” Dr. Horvath elaborated.

“ Other times,” Dr. von Rohr chimed in, “it’s a matter of which tattoo should have been closest to his heart.”

“But you can have only a limited number of things that are truly close to your heart,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe interjected. “He has marked his body with what he loves, but he has also recorded his grief. The antidepressants have calmed him, have made him less anxious, have helped him sleep—”

“But they don’t do much for the grief,” Dr. von Rohr said, bluntly—turning her head-on-a-coin profile to Jack.

“Not enough, anyway,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe admitted.

“It might be overwhelming to discuss specific diagnoses right away. For now, let’s just say that your father has suffered losses, ” Professor Ritter told Jack. “The Ringhof woman, the German wife, but first of all you. ”

“He is an absurdly emotional man,” Dr. Berger said, shaking his head—wishing that William Burns were more of a fact man, apparently.

“The antidepressants have helped— that’s all I’m saying,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe said.

“Keeping him away from mirrors helps, ” Dr. von Rohr remarked in her silver-streaked, head-of-department way.

“Are there other triggers?” Jack asked the team.

“Ah, well …” Professor Ritter said. “Maybe Jack should meet his father first?” (The team, Jack could tell, didn’t think so.)

“Bach!” Dr. Horvath roared. “Anything by Bach.”

“Bach, Buxtehude, Stanley, Widor, Vierne, Dubois, Alain, Dupré—” Dr. Berger recited.

“Handel, Balbastre, Messiaen, Pachelbel, Scheidt—” Dr. von Rohr interrupted.

“And anything to do with Christmas, or Easter—any hymn, ” Dr. Huber added; she was glaring at her pager, as if daring it to go off.

“ Music is a trigger? Or even the names of certain composers?” Jack asked.

“Music and the names of certain composers,” Dr. Krauer-Poppe answered.

“And when he plays the piano, or the organ?” Jack asked.

“Ah, well …” Professor Ritter said.

“When the pain starts—” Dr. Krauer-Poppe began.

“When his fingers cramp— ” Dr. Huber interjected.

“When he makes mistakes, ” Dr. von Rohr said, with what sounded like finality—at least in her mind. With almost everything she said, Dr. von Rohr spoke with the emphasis and certainty of a concluding remark—this in tandem with the way, as a tall person, she was always looking down at others. Dr. von Rohr seemed no less tall sitting down. (When he’d shaken her hand, Jack had observed that he came up to her shoulder.)

“Yes, mistakes are triggers,” Professor Ritter worriedly agreed.

“William’s meticulousness, once again,” Dr. Berger pointed out.

“ And, albeit only occasionally, when he sees your movies, ” Dr. von Rohr said, looking at Jack.

“Particular lines of dialogue, mainly,” Professor Ritter said.

“But for the most part, the movies help him!” Dr. Krauer-Poppe insisted.

“But other times—” Dr. von Rohr started to say.

“Ah, well …” Professor Ritter said. “I think Jack should see his father, hear him play, talk to him—”

“In what order?” Dr. Berger asked, perhaps sarcastically; Jack couldn’t tell.

Dr. Huber’s pager beeped again; she got up from the table and went to the phone by the door. Dr. Krauer-Poppe covered her face with her hands.