Dr. Feelgood (8 page)

After a long day of two successful major operations, I was glad to finally be able to shut it down and head home from a nearly twelve-hour, marathon shift. I wanted to make a decision about who to invite to this award dinner, but the more I thought about it, the more I was leaning toward going unescorted. It just seemed a whole lot easier.

Since Salina freaks out, even though we still kick it, she’s not even a consideration. I dare not call Patricia back after the way we ended our short run. She’s the one who bought me that nameplate, having branded me Dr. Feelgood in the first place. It’s a shame I wasn’t ready for her because whether she was fifty or not, we really were compatible.

Mary Jane and I are just friends, but being that she’s a coworker, probably still mad at me, and kind of shy anyway, I’d better not. Monday is professional and attractive and sophisticated, but I’m not sure I’m ready to bring Miss Freak of the Week around this crowd. Plus, they know she was dating a patient of mine anyway. Besides, she comes off a little strong sometimes. And she just doesn’t come off as the girl-on-the-arm type.

But, for now, I’m thinking Georgia might work. Even though she could have starred in L.L. Cool J’s video for
“Around the Way Girl,”
she does have some class, I think. Every time I hear the lyrics “I wanna eat you like a cookie when I see you walk,” her sexy strut comes to mind. Okay, but the point is, she’s pretty, she’s intelligent, she’s personable, and I’ve known her long enough to where I don’t believe she’d think it means something.

“So, what do you think?” I asked from my mobile.

“I’d love to. I’d be honored actually. Hold on a second, please.” Georgia tried to muffle the sound. “Girls, get in that room and close the door until I tell you to come out. Can’t you see Mommy is on the phone? What did I tell you about that? Go in the room, now. I’m so sorry, Makkai. Yes, I’d love to go with you.” She shifted from sweet, to wicked, to sweet again in no time flat.

“Okay, so do you have anything to wear?”

“I’m sure I have something in that closet.” She giggled, sounding kind of unsure.

“How about if I drop off some money in a little while and you can go shopping for something formal?
I’m wearing a black tux with a white shirt and tie, so I’d say all white or all black would be good. Keep it sophisticated.”

“Okay.”

“Fine then, I guess I’ll see you in a little while. I’ve got a quick stop to make to catch the tail end of a USC alumni get-together, but I’ll be by after that. Maybe in a couple of hours, maybe less.”

“I’ll be up. See you then. And, Makkai, congratulations.”

My boys sat at the long, double-sided, catch-action bar at Magic Johnson’s Fridays in Ladera. It was standing room only, as usual. To find a seat in this place is like winning the California lottery. I used to take time to make this my regular hangout, but it had been months since the last time I stopped by. Tonight gave me a reason to definitely stop on by, if only for a minute.

Turning from the bar to eye me as I walked up, Dr. Hightower, the chiropractor, asked, wearing his three-quarter-length camel suit, “So, you’re getting the NAACP award, huh, Doctor? What up, man?”

“Yeah.” I gave handshakes as I walked in and stood behind him and another doctor.

“Oh, you’re big-time now, huh?” asked Dr. Win-ton Humphrey, a dentist who owned his own practice in the Crenshaw area.

“Not even. What’s happening?”

“It’s all good. Just don’t forget about us down here while you’re flying high.”

“Anyway, how’d the alumni banquet go?” I asked.

Dr. Hightower half replied, rubbing his goatee, eyeing a stallion-looking lady who walked by. “It was cool. The new president spoke.” He looked our way. “Boy was as bland as a medical book.”

“I’ll bet.”

Dr. Humphrey continued. “He even tried to tell an x-rated joke about how the tongue is the strongest muscle in the body. It was just the way he said it, being that the brother looked so square that no one even went there with him.”

Having heard Dr. Humphrey’s every word, Carlos’s female friend asked as she and Carlos walked up, “Is that true, Doctor? About the tongue I mean?”

Dr. Humphrey replied, “Not that I know. But, it can be a powerful tool. Though, it’s not
the
tool, if you know what I’m saying.” He gave her the eye.

“Hey, bros, what’s up?” said Carlos, high-fiving and smiling big. “Man, I was told that some lions mate over fifty times a day.”

Carlos’s friend said while grinning wide, “I wanna be a lion in my next life.”

“Hell, a pig’s orgasm lasts thirty minutes,” Carlos added.

Carlos’ female friend corrected herself. “Cancel that, I wanna be a pig.” She laughed.

“I’m with you,” Dr Hightower said, inspecting her from her forehead to her ankles. His eyes licked her up and down.

Carlos looked at his friend. “What are you laughing at? You women don’t deserve thirty minutes.
A female praying mantis can’t make love to the male until after she rips his head off.”

Everyone laughed together.

Dr. Humphrey responded, “Sounds the closest to a woman in my opinion. That’s a sister’s problem today, always tearing the black man down.”

“No comment,” I said. With nowhere to sit, and knowing Georgia was waiting on me, I just had to excuse myself. “On that note, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Carlos replied, looking at his watch.

“You two just got here,” said Dr. Humphrey.

“Yeah, but we’ve got places to go,” said Carlos. Both of us waved, as we headed toward the door. He left his female friend sandwiched in between the doctors.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“To a friend’s house.”

“Don’t hurt her, man.”

I looked back at him as we exited the front door together. “Never. Hey, I thought you came with that girl.”

“Yo, what up, Dr. Worthy?” a gentleman asked whom I’d never seen before in my life.

“Hey now. Nothing much.”

Carlos told me, “No. She’s just someone who runs the switchboard at the office. Actually, she just pulled me aside and asked me about your ass.”

“Oh, she’s cute, believe me, but I’ve got my hands full.”

“Like I said, don’t hurt ‘em.” He pulled off in his truck, me in my Benzo. That’s my boy. He’ll surely hit that eventually. That’s just the kinda brotha Carlos is.

“T
his means something,” I told my mom the next morning from my cell phone. Makkai left at five. I had a quick writing gig that I was headed to at the radio station, just from ten to two o’clock. Makkai didn’t get any sleep, and I’ve only had a couple myself. I’ll be good for nothing today.

Mom’s tone was drab. “What are you talking about, it means something? That man has a whole lot of responsibilities and hasn’t come out and said anything of the sort. You told me the way it is with Makkai is just fine with you anyway.”

“It is, but for him to ask me to his award show after all these years, I think he’s coming around.”

“Coming around to what?”

“To the idea of taking this to the next level.”

“Georgia, he didn’t ask you to marry him. It’s just a date.”

“Mom, I’m going to get to meet his mother and his coworkers during a very special occasion in his life. He must see a future with me. And I know I’m the only one he’s seeing.”

“Oh, I say unless you’ve talked about monogamy, don’t ever assume that. Besides, don’t get your head all up in the clouds. Come on back down to reality. Now, where are you going to buy that dress from?”

“Probably Nordstrom. Can you watch the kids tonight while I shop?”

“No problem.”

“And how about them spending the night on the twenty-seventh, the night of the event? I think it’s at like seven o’clock.”

“Sure, they can.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem. By the way, your dad’s coming over tomorrow night.” Suddenly, she sounded upbeat.

Suddenly, drab owned me. “Mom, not again. What’s goin’ on with you two?”

“We’re just talking.”

“After twenty years of him leaving you and hooking up with some other woman, you’re just talking to him?”

“Georgia, honey, he left because I stayed out all night, remember?”

“Yeah, but he could have forgiven you and kept his family together. If you ask me, he was looking for an excuse.”

“Georgia, not all men are dogs, you know.”

“If you say so.” I took a quick peek into the rearview and my frown lines were talking louder than I was.

Mom said, “I’ll talk to you later. Those little girls are all ears right about now, I’m sure. They don’t
miss a beat. Especially since you’re talking about their grandfather.”

“I already dropped them off, Mom.”

“Good. See you tonight, dear.”

“Bye.”

The main entrance to the W Hotel in Westwood was absolutely fabulous, with huge, life-sized silver trophies and black balloons aligned all up and down the canopy-covered driveway. We stepped out of the black stretch limousine where there was actually a red carpet set up.

“You look so pretty,” I told Makkai’s sweet, friendly mother, who had on a black knee-length dress with a black fishnet shawl and low-heel velvet pumps.

She eyeballed me from head to toe, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Child, you look like you could be in one of those
Ebony Fashion Fair
shows. She’s beautiful, Makkai.” She put her arm through his.

“Thanks, Mom. You both look beautiful. I see you wore red,” he whispered to me from the corner of his mouth with a glimmer of a forced smile.

“Yes, red goes with everything.”

Flashbulbs went off, shining upon Makkai like he was the president or something. But, the president had nothing on him this night.

His suit was Armani black, his satin tie was pearl white, his shoes were shiny new patent leather Hugo Boss, and he looked like a million bucks. He stood in between us as we walked inside and were escorted to our table.

“Hello, Dr. Worthy,” said a distinguished-looking man, the head of the NAACP. “We’re honored to have you here.”

“I’m honored to have been chosen. This is my mother, Mrs. Cotton, and my friend, Georgia Manley.”

“Hello,” he said to us both, slightly bowing our way.

We responded simultaneously, “Nice to meet you.”

He spoke again to Makkai. “The work you do is simply amazing, Doctor. And you’re a role model for so many young people all over the country.”

Mrs. Cotton smiled, taking her seat beside her renowned son.

Before long, main course meals were served that included a red leaf vinaigrette salad, shrimp-covered salmon and asparagus spears, and a buttery yellow rice covered with hollandaise. The mood was upbeat and the company was great. Sharing our table was Dr. Lois Taylor, who worked with Makkai.

“So, Dr. Worthy, what’s next on your list of accomplishments?” Speaking in a smoky voice, she grinned at only him, sitting there with her broad shoulders, wearing a low-cut, sunny yellow taffeta pantsuit. She didn’t have very much on top, and her medium brown face wasn’t much to write home about, but she spoke as if one had better get to writing. Anyway.

“Nothing planned, Dr. Taylor, just enjoying each day as it comes.”

She took a sip of her red wine. “You seem to have your bases covered.”

“What do you mean?” Makkai took a small bite of his vegetable and chewed like he had a large piece of tough steak to deal with.

“A great career, voted-for awards, a beautiful mom and a beautiful lady by your side.”

“I could say the same about you, Doctor.”

“Yes, but there’s no man at my side. I’m working on that, though.” She raised her glass and took a bigger sip.

“You won’t have a problem,” Makkai said without looking at her, only cutting his fork into his baked fish.

“No, you won’t,” said Mrs. Cotton, giving a nod to signal her agreement, or to deliver her son from Dr. Taylor’s clutches.

I said nothing. Dr. Taylor looked at me with a wink and nodded. I immediately delved into my vanilla crème brûlée.

“And this evening, the recipient of our distinguished Daniel Hale Williams award, named after the great black surgeon who performed the first prototype open heart surgery back in 1893, is a gifted specialty surgeon who works in the field of adult heart surgery. He chairs several organizations, as well as being the vice-president of the Society for Thoracic Surgeons. He has pioneered efforts on the national health-care scene advocating research into heart disease in the black community, being that cardiovascular disease is the leading cause of death amongst African American men and women. Ladies and gentlemen, please
welcome, Dr. Makkai Jerome Worthy,” said last year’s recipient, Dr. Robert Anderson.

“Jerome?” I asked his mother as we all stood in unison, while I sort of snickered.

“That was my father’s name,” Mrs. Cotton said with pride, putting her hands together for her accomplished son.

“I see.” I felt as though I should not have said it like that. But, dang, I guess I really was making fun. Makkai did not look like a Jerome. Bad girl, Georgia, bad girl. Surely his mom had at least one strike against me already.

As Makkai approached the podium, Dr. Anderson handed Makkai the bronzed statue. Makkai stood smiling like a winning politician, slightly bowing until the applause ceased. Dr. Lois Taylor was the last one at our table to take her seat again.

“Wow, I am so honored to be acknowledged in this way. You go through life just doing what you do and in no way do you ever expect anything in return. I enjoy helping people and treating patients who look to me for my training and knowledge. You pray that you make the best decision, because it really is all in God’s hands. We, as doctors, don’t have as much control over the outcomes of our patients’ health as people think we do. It’s just about making timely medical decisions and letting God’s healing hands do the rest. I get a chance to go to work and perform the very same surgeries I watched being performed from those observation galleries while I was a junior and senior in medical school. And now I get to share my commitment to provide the best medical care possible, and interact with patients and families and
my fellow colleagues in the medical profession. I’m living a dream come true. And it’s only just begun.