Holiday.” Marissa blinked to bring the rest of the room into focus. It was then she saw Robert standing behind the nurse, his Burberry coat over his arm.
“What time is it?” Marissa asked as she pushed herself up on an elbow. It felt as if she had only just gone to sleep. Surely Robert couldn’t have had time to have his meeting and get back.
“It’s four-fifteen in the afternoon,” Judith said as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Marissa’s arm and blew it up.
“How do you feel?” Robert asked.
“Okay, I guess,” Marissa said. She wasn’t entirely sure. The Valium was still in her system. Her mouth felt as dry as the desert landscape in her dream. She was amazed that the day had passed so quickly.
“Vital signs are okay,” Judith said as she removed the cuff. “if you’re up to it, you’re free to go on home.” arissa swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt a momentary dizzy sensation. It reoccurred when she slid off the bed and her feet touched the cold floor.
How do you feel?” Judith asked her.
,arissa said she was all right, just feeling a little weak. She took a drink from a glass on the side table. She felt better.
“Your clothes are in the closet,” Judith said.
“Will you need any help?”
“I don’t think so,” Marissa said. She smiled weakly at the friendly and helpful nurse.
“Just yell if you do,” Judith said as she backed out the door.
She closed it, but not all the way. It stood ajar by about three inches.
“Let me,” Robert said as he saw Marissa start toward the closet.
Twenty minutes later, Marissa found herself walking unsteadily down the front steps of the clinic. She got into the passenger side of Robert’s car. Her body felt heavy and all she could think about was getting home and climbing into bed. She looked out at the rush-hour Harvard Square traffic with a sense of detachment. It was beginning to get dark. Most of the cars already had their lights on.
“Dr. Wingate told me your egg retrieval went very well,” Robert said.
Marissa nodded and looked across at him. His sharp profile was silhouetted against the evening lights. He didn’t look at her.
“We got eight eggs,” she said, emphasizing the “we.” She studied him to assay his response. She was hoping he’d pick up on her meaning. Instead, he changed the subject.
“Did you hear about the tragedy at the clinic?”
“No!” Marissa said.
“What tragedy?”
“Remember that woman who hit me?” Robert asked, as if Marissa could have forgotten.
“The one carrying on in the waiting room when we arrived? She apparently committed suicide.
Took a swan dive from the sixth floor into one of the flower beds.
It was on the noon news.”
“My God!” Marissa said. She remembered too well her own vivid identification with the woman. She had understood the woman’s frustration, feeling it so frequently herself.
“Did she die?” Marissa asked, half hoping there was a: chance that the woman had not succeeded.
“Instantly,” Robert said.
“Some poor patient on her way into the clinic saw the whole thing. Said the lady was sitting on a window ledge, then just dove headfirst.”
“That poor woman,” Marissa said.
“Which one?” Robert asked.
“Both,” Marissa said, although she had been referring to Rebecca
Ziegler.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me this also isn’t the right time to talk about this in-vitro protocol,” Robert said.
“But having that lady go berserk like she did underlines what I was feeling this morning.
Clearly we’re not the only ones to feel the pressure. I really think we should stop this infertility stuff after this cycle. Think about what it’s doing to your practice.”
The last thing Marissa cared to think about was her pediatric practice.
“I’ve spoken candidly with the director of my group and he understands,” Marissa explained, not for the first time.
“He’s sympathetic to what I am going through, even if other people aren’t.”
“That’s fine for the director to say,” Robert said.
“But what about your patients? They must be feeling abandoned.”
“My patients are all being taken care of,” Marissa snapped. In truth, she had been concerned about them.