For Cassi the “silent treatment” was an unbearable strain. What little conversation they did have was just chatter. Dinner was the worst, and several times Cassi, pleading a headache, took a tray to her room.
After a week, Thomas had finally exploded in a rage. The triggering event had been insignificant; Cassi had dropped a Waterford glass on the tiled kitchen floor. As Thomas rushed over to her and started yelling, he accused Cassi of being deceitful and maneuvering behind his back. How dare Cassi go to his mother and accuse him of drug abuse?
“Of course I’ve taken an occasional pill,” said Thomas, finally lowering his voice. “Either to help me sleep or keep me awake if I’ve been up all night. I dare you to name a single doctor who never took any of his own drugs!” He’d stabbed at her with his finger to make his point. Having taken an occasional Valium herself, Cassi was not about to contradict Thomas. Besides, intuition told her to be quiet and let Thomas vent his anger.
In a more controlled tone Thomas asked her why in God’s name had she gone to Patricia. Cassi, of all people, knew how much his mother nagged him without anyone giving her such a potentially frightening subject. Sensing that Thomas had yelled himself out, Cassi tried to explain. She said that having found the Dexedrine, she’d been scared and had mistakenly thought that Patricia would be the best person to help if Thomas did have a problem. “And I never said you were an addict.”
“My mother said you did,” snapped Thomas. “Who am I to believe?” He threw up his arms in disgust.
Cassi didn’t answer although she was tempted to say that if Thomas didn’t know the answer after forty-two years of living with Patricia, he was never going to. Instead, Cassi apologized for jumping to conclusions after finding the Dexedrine and worse still for going to his mother. Tearfully she told him how much she loved him, silently acknowledging the fact she was more terrified of Thomas’s leaving her than she was of his possible drug abuse. She wanted their relationship to return to normal. If the strain had started with her complaining about her diabetes, Cassi decided she would shield Thomas from any knowledge of her problems. But now her eye was forcing the issue. The arrival of another screaming ambulance brought Cassi to the present. As much as she did not want to upset Thomas, she knew she had no choice. She could not go into the hospital and have an operation without telling him even if she somehow found the courage to do so. With terrible foreboding Cassi pushed the elevator button. She’d see Thomas now. Knowing herself, she was afraid that if she waited until they were at home that evening, she would not be able to broach the issue.
Trying not to think anymore lest she change her mind, Cassi made her way down to Thomas’s office and pushed open the door. Fortunately there were no patients in the waiting room. Doris looked up from her typewriter and, as usual, turned back to her work without so much as acknowledging Cassi’s presence.
“Is Thomas in?” asked Cassi.
“Yes,” said Doris without interrupting her typing. “He’s with his last patient.”
Cassi sat on the rose-colored couch. She couldn’t read because the blurring effect of the drops in her eye had not yet worn off. Since Doris didn’t look at Cassi, Cassi did not feel uncomfortable watching her. She noticed that the nurse had changed her hairstyle. Cassi thought that Doris looked better without the severity of her usual bun.
Presently a patient emerged from the interior of the office. Brimming with good cheer, he smiled at Doris. “I feel terrific,” he said. “The doctor told me that I’m completely better. I can do whatever I like.” Pulling on his coat, he said to Cassi, “Dr. Kingsley’s the greatest. Don’t worry about a thing, young lady.” Turning to Doris he thanked her, blew her a kiss, and left.
Cassi sighed as she got up. She knew Thomas was a great doctor. She wished she could elicit the kind of compassion that she believed he gave to his patients.