Doctor, Mummy...Wife?. Dianne Drake

with her while Yvette was out running around. He’d been the one to take care of her when she was sick, and take her off to her first day of school. He’d gone to “meet the teachers” night and to the play her first-grade class had put on. Never Yvette. And with that kind of relationship he’d never expected Yvette to simply yank Amy out of his life the way she had. But it was done now, and there was nothing he could say or do to change that. His parenting days were over and, yes, he could understand Del’s overprotectiveness because he’d been much the same way.

      She reminded him of him, back in happier days. Which was why he resented her. She had what he wanted. But he didn’t want it from another one like Yvette, who came equipped with a child already. He wanted his own child next time, one that couldn’t be ripped away from him the way Amy had been. “It sounds fine since I don’t have anything else to do.”

      She jotted down her address and gave it to him. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

      “Do you drink wine, or are you...?”

      “Nursing? No, I’m not. You can’t put your child in the day-care center if he or she’s still nursing. So it’s strictly the bottle and baby food all the way. And yes, I drink wine. Not much, though, since I work with FAS and I’ve seen what alcohol can do to a child.”

      “Then you wouldn’t be offended if I bring over a bottle?”

      “If you’re not offended that I’ll have only one glass.”

      He nodded. “One glass it is.” It sounded more like a business transaction than arranging a date, even if it was a working date. So maybe in Del’s mind it was a business transaction. Who knew? Admittedly, he was a little disappointed by her attitude, but what had he expected? A real date? They were hardly friends, barely cordial colleagues, and all of a sudden he’d asked her out. Of course, she had a child, which made her safe and he supposed that was part of it. He felt safe with Del because of his personal resolution. So, it wasn’t such a bad situation at all. And it would save him from spending another long, dreary night at home alone, looking at pictures of Amy or mulling over how much he missed her.

      * * *

      “Well, he’s down for a nap, and the pizza’s hot so what say we dig in?” Simon said, pouring himself a glass of wine and leaving the bottle on the table so Del wouldn’t feel pressured into drinking if she didn’t want to. As it turned out, she poured half a glass and sipped it almost cautiously as they ate their pizza and talked about the clinic. “He’s a cute kid,” Simon said. “Your Charlie.”

      “Thank you. I think so, but then I’m a little partial.”

      “Better that than some of what we see come into the clinic.”

      “Why did you choose pediatrics?” she asked.

      “Liked it when I rotated through when I was an intern. Liked the kids, like the way they’re braver than many adults. And they show so much heart and trust. I think it’s the vulnerability and trust that got to me. Most adults don’t have that. They’re cynical, or mistrustful. I remember one patient who told me right off the bat he had the right to sue me if he didn’t like the way I treated him and the hell of it was, he had his choices but as an intern I didn’t have those same choices, as in not treating him. Luckily his diagnosis turned out to be something simple, but you know the guy never even said thank you. He simply accused me of overcharging his insurance company. Which is one of the reasons I went with children. They’re not so vindictive.”

      “Most adults aren’t, either. You just happened to have a bad one at a time in your early career where you were open to influence.”

      “I gave some thought to going into a straight family practice but I just didn’t like treating adults the way I enjoyed taking care of the kids.”

      “Which is a good reason to go into pediatrics. Family practice’s loss.”

      “Not really a loss so much as I never gave it a fair trial. I’d already decided I wanted to treat children.”

      “Because you like kids that well?”

      “Generally, yes. Says the man who isn’t a father.”

      “You don’t have to be a father to be a good pediatrician. All it takes is a passion for what you’re doing.”

      He looked away for a minute, turned deadly serious. “I had this one little guy who was born with cerebral palsy. He wasn’t too severe but he had some limitations in walking and coordination, and the way he took to his physical therapy just made me so proud of him. He worked hard, never complained, never questioned. Just did what he was supposed to do when he was supposed to do it and I suppose he was my turning point. I’d always thought I’d be a surgeon, or something a little more showy, but with the kids I found that I liked the courage I saw every day. So I stuck with children and I have no regrets. Now you tell me yours.”

      “There was never a choice for me. I never had any grand delusions of going into one of the higher profile types of medicine. I liked children, liked working with them, and I think a lot of that stems from my childhood pediatrician, Dr. Dassett. He was a kind man and I was never afraid of going to see him. So even when I was a kid myself I always told my parents I was going to grow up and be just like Dr. Dassett. And here I am.”

      “But FAS? How did you get interested in that?”

      She shrugged. “One of my earliest patients was born with FAS and it interested me that a mother could do that to her child. So, I studied it, and eventually specialized in it.” She took a bite of pizza and washed it down with a sip of wine. “I still can’t explain the mind that thinks it’s OK to do that to your child, but my job is to coordinate care when I get the opportunity. Admittedly, we don’t see a lot of that at Lakeside, but I do get called out on referrals to other local hospitals from time to time.”

      “Isn’t it discouraging?” he asked her as he grabbed up his second piece of pizza.

      “Very. But somebody has to do it, so why not me? I see all the expectant mothers who drink—it’s all just selfishness, or that ‘bury your head in the sand’ attitude where you think it can’t happen to you. And odds are it won’t. But occasionally...” She shrugged. “It’s one of the ugly sides of medicine, but I can do it and make a difference, which makes me glad I’ve chosen FAS as my specialty because when you see one of these kids succeed...” She smiled. “If you want pretty you become a beautician. If you want to make a difference you become a doctor. And personally, I’ve always wondered what’s up with someone who wants to practice proctology. Now to me, that’s a field of medicine I’d rather not think about.”

      Simon laughed. “When you put it in those terms, I can kind of agree with you. But for me it’s radiology where you don’t get much patient contact. I like patients. Like working with them, like curing them or making them feel better, and viewing film and images just isn’t what I care to do. Although the world certainly does have need of great radiologists, especially in so many of the specific treatments and tests that get referred to them. Most everything starts with an X-ray of some sort, I suppose, but I can’t see myself in that role.”

      “So do you like Chicago?” she asked. “Is that why you applied here? Or were you just looking to get away from Boston and Chicago is where you were accepted?”

      “I’m from Chicago originally and I wanted to get back here. Had that little hiccup called marriage back in Boston when I was finishing my residency, which didn’t make moving home too practical since my wife was born and raised in Boston and wouldn’t leave there for me, even though I begged her. So I had to be the flexible one. And then she moved to Chicago anyway, so I did, too. It’s nice to come home to the big city. Not that Boston is small, but I love the lakeshore here, which is where I grew up, love the Navy Pier and all the park along the river.” He smiled. “It’s nice to be back where I belong. So are you from here?”