Эд Макбейн - Mothers and Daughters

He sat behind his desk and looked at Julia Regan, who sat opposite him, and he said, “I’ve got the results on that test, Julia. That’s why I asked you to come in.”

“Shall I make out a will?” Julia said jokingly.

“Maybe you should,” he answered seriously. He tweaked his nose, pulled a tissue from the box on his desk, blew his nose heartily, and dropped the tissue into his wastebasket. “I want to explain that test to you, Julia. It’s called the Masters Two-Step or the Masters Exercise Tolerance Test, or sometimes simply Cardiogram after Exercise. Whatever you call it, it’s designed to supplement the ordinary cardiogram and discover what your tolerance to extreme physical or emotional strain would be. The Army uses it as a routine examination for anyone over the age of forty who’s in a responsible position.”

He took another tissue from the box and blew his nose again. “Did you ever hear of a doctor who caught a cold?” he asked. He shrugged, threw the tissue away, and leaned closer to Julia. “Whenever I get a patient in here who’s complaining to me of easy fatigability or indigestion, I might as well tell you I suspect angina immediately, and I arrange for the Masters test to be taken. Which is what I did with you last week.”

“And you’ve discovered that I have one foot in the grave, and should—”

“I’ve discovered that there’s a definite compromise of circulation to your heart, Julia. You want my opinion, I’d say you were a prime candidate for a coronary.”

Julia grew suddenly attentive.

“That’s right,” Milt said. “And judging from the experience I’ve had with similar cases, you can expect it within the next two years... unless you start taking care of yourself.”

“That’s a little shocking,” Julia said.

“I’m a doctor,” Milt answered.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to avoid any strenuous exercise or emotional stress. I’m putting you on a low cholesterol diet, and you’ll begin eating unsaturated fatty acids instead of butter and animal fats. We’re going to try to stop hardening of the arteries, Julia. You’re not such a spring chicken any more, you know.”

“I didn’t think I was, Milt.”

“The way you go racing around in that little car...” He shook his head. “Look, Julia, you’re in the right age group for a full-fledged coronary, believe me. You’d just better slow down.”

“What does slowing down entail, Milt?”

“I just told you. I don’t want you getting overtired or—”

“How about a trip to Europe?”

“Out of the question,” Milt said.

“I was planning—”

“Go on,” he said. “They’ll send you back in a pine box.”

Julia nodded. “What about next year?”

“Maybe. It depends on what progress you make.”

“This is ridiculous,” Julia said.

“Sure, it’s always ridiculous when the body starts giving out. It’s more ridiculous to drop dead one day, believe me. That’s the most ridiculous and humiliating thing that can happen to anyone.” He paused. “Would you like to drop dead in the street one day, Julia? Most of the fatal coronaries, you know, happen to people who’ve never had a clue. No real chest pains, nothing like that. Bam, and there you go. You want that to happen?”

“No.”

“Then slow down. I’ll prepare the diet for you. I want you to pick it up tomorrow or the next day. I’ll give you a call.”

Julia suddenly smiled. “How am I supposed to avoid emotional stress, Milt, would you tell me that?”

“That’s your problem, not mine. When you’re dead, Julia, there’s no emotional stress at all. You might just remember that.”

“I will.” She paused. “It was only a little indigestion,” she said. “I thought I had a good heart.”

“It’s not exactly a rotten heart,” Milt said, “but I wouldn’t go courting any shock or strain beyond your capacity.” Milt shrugged. “Look, it’s your life, Julia.”

“I know it.” She nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

“You can start by slowing down to thirty miles an hour when you’re driving that little bug.”

“I will.”

“Fine. I’ll call you within the next few days.”

“Thanks, Milt.”

“And be careful,” he said to her as she went out of the office.

The tearoom was in the middle of the street. A bell over the door jingled when they entered. Two young boys were sitting at a table near the kitchen, but the room was otherwise empty. David held out a chair for Kate, and she sat and said, “Isn’t this better than the drugstore?”

He sat opposite her. “Indeed it is.”

“We come here sometimes when we’ve got plans.”

“What do you mean, plans?”

“Oh, things to discuss that we don’t want anyone else to hear. At the drugstore, everyone’s on the earie.”

“I see,” David said. He smiled.

“Everyone needs a private place,” Kate said, almost in defense, though she really didn’t see what there was to defend. “Don’t you have a private place?”

“Sure, I do. It’s a little saloon on Sixth Avenue.”

“Do you drink a lot?”

“No, not terribly much.”

“I hate to drink. Even beer. It tastes so awful. Suzie Fox got drunk two weeks ago. On beer. She threw up in the bathroom.”

“Poor Suzie Fox,” David said.

“Do you ever get drunk? And sick?”

“I very often get drank, but I rarely get sick.”

“Well, why do you want to do that?” Kate said maternally, irritated.

“Get drunk? It’s very pleasant. It provides an area of blurred focus, a temporary adjustment with the world.”

“I wish you wouldn’t get drunk,” she said, frowning.

“Why?”

“I just... well, I don’t like the idea of you lying in a New York gutter someplace.” He began laughing. “Really, David, it’s not funny. You’re a grown man, and—”

“Kate, Kate, I don’t lie around in gutters. And I never get that drunk.”

“Well, Suzie Fox got that drank.”

“Honey, Suzie Fox is sixteen.”

“That doesn’t make her exactly an infant, you know.”

“I know. But when I was sixteen, I could get roaring blind drank on three bottles of beer. Unfortunately, I can’t do that any more.”

“How many bottles of beer does it take now?”

“Beer? Beer is very out.”

“Martinis?”

“Martinis are on the way out. On the rocks is coming back in. Very chic.” David winked conspiratorially.

“Do you know the Moses and Jesus joke?” Kate asked suddenly.

“On the rocks?” David laughed. “Sure. But how come you know it?”

“Listen, David, cut it out,” she said sharply.

“What did I do?”

“You just stop that business. I’m not a baby. Now you just cut it out.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said, and he gave a deferential little nod of his head.

“Yes, and that too.”

“What now?”

“What you just did. Just stop the entire whole business or I’ll get very angry.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was still smiling. “Here’s our waitress.”

“What would you like, David?”

“A chocolate soda,” he said.

“Two chocolate sodas, Connie,” Kate said. “Do you want anything else, David?”

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling.

“Two chocolate sodas,” the waitress said, and walked away from the table.

“Hey, I’ll let you in on a secret,” David said, still smiling.

“Yes, what?” She leaned toward him.

“The man’s supposed to order,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The man—”

“Oh, hell!” Kate said. “I come here all the time, and I know Connie and you don’t, and I was trying to put you at ease, that’s all.”