The Art of Forgetting (25 page)

              He placed the ice cream carton in the far corner of the freezer and stacked as many items as he could in front of it. He closed the freezer door, opening and closing it a couple of times to make sure it was shutting well. Finally he stepped away from the kitchen area and rubbed his hands on the back of his trousers.

              He had barely taken a few steps when the chirping of his beeper made him jolt. It was a hospital number. He dialed it in on his cell phone. It was a unit secretary calling about a new consult on the surgical ward. He wasn’t scheduled to start the consult service until Monday morning but he didn’t mind. This might work as a sort of alibi.
Alibi? I don’t need an alibi
. Lloyd hung up, ran his fingers through his hair, looked around him and pinched his lips together.
Now just keep cool
.

              Chapter 24

             
T
he medical ethics department was located in the medical school building just behind the main library. It consisted of a rather plain wide corridor with partitions set against one wall to create a series of open cubicles. A narrow conference room was cramped in one corner where medical students gathered to satisfy the case discussion part of their ethics requirement. To the chagrin of the discussion leaders, most students came utterly unprepared and thought they could fulfill the credit hours just by feigning a doe-eyed compassion.

              Lloyd paced down the corridor, stopping by each cubicle to crane his head over the partitions in search of Erin. He found her talking on the phone, her back to him. He stood quietly behind her, happily surprised that she hadn’t heard him.

              “So we have a deal,” Erin said in the handset. “I’ll do Quinlan, you cover Cruzan and then we jump into a discussion of durable power of attorney.” She paused, still oblivious to Lloyd’s presence. “Of course they won’t have a clue. They’re medical students, so what’s new?” She placed the handset back in its cradle.

              “So what’s new?” Lloyd said.

              Erin spun around in her chair, her mouth open. When she saw it was Lloyd she closed her eyes, put a hand on her chest and sighed.

              “You startled me! What are you doing snooping around like that? You spying on me?” Erin said.

              “If I was spying on you, you wouldn’t know it.”

              “What, are you some kind of secret agent now, or just a stalker?”

              “My government and my attorney will not let me answer that question,” Lloyd said.

              “You’re such a dork!”

              “You ethicists are so, so cultivated.”

              “Double-dork!”

              Lloyd crossed his arms and said, “Well, maybe I won’t tell you why I came here then.”

              “You’re pouting now. How adorkable. Besides, I already know why you’re here.” A smug smile lit up her face. “It’s because you think of me all the time and you can’t stay away from me.”

              “Oh, really?”

              “Admit it. You’re fully cooked. Time to stick a fork in this turkey.” Erin leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

              “There may be a hint of truth in what you’re saying.”

              Erin threw back her head and laughed. “A
hint
of truth? Yeah, and there’s a pinch of salt in the ocean.”

              Lloyd unfolded his arms and placed his hands in his lab coat pockets. “A smattering of veracity, a smidgen of verisimilitude…”

              “Extra points for the SAT words,” Erin said.

              “But my visit here had a specific purpose beyond satisfying my insatiable craving to see you,” Lloyd said.

              “So you admit it?  You’re infatuated with me.”

              “I won’t deny a considerable attraction.”

              “A considerable attraction? Huh, Lloyd Copeland – hopeless romantic.”

              “You’re the second person who has called me that in just a few days.”

              “Another girl?” Erin asked, tilting her head.

              “I already told you, there’s no other girl,” Lloyd said. “It was a guy; my lab technician.”

              “And was he delirious?”

              Lloyd crossed his arms again. “Okay, forget it. I won’t tell you why I came.”

              Erin leaned forward, reached under Lloyd’s clasped forearms and grabbed his hand. “Oh, come on.”

              Lloyd lifted his chin with aristocratic huff. “No, no, it’s too late.”

              “Do I have to take my pepper spray out?”

              “Pepper spraying a physician in the ethics department. Now that would be the height of hypocrisy,” Lloyd said.

              “Just tell me, already.” Erin gave his hand a brisk tug.

              Lloyd hesitated for a moment, purposely trying to heighten the suspense. Then, in a deadpan voice he asked, “How would you like to meet my family?”

              Erin sat quietly, her eyes locked on his.

              “Well, my mom and uncle, that is,” he added, unnerved by the lack of response.

              Erin blinked her eyes and shook her head, “Lloyd, I’m speechless.”

              “It’s just for lunch, no big deal.”

              “This is a threshold,” Erin said with moist eyes.

              “A threshold?”

              “A huge threshold,” she said, her voice cracking. A tear streamed down her cheek.

              Lloyd crouched on his knees. “Geez, Erin, it’s not that big a deal.”

              “Just shut up for a second, will you?” Erin said. “Lloyd, I’d love to meet your family. I’m flattered that you’ve asked me.”

              She opened a desk drawer, pulled some tissue from a box and blew her nose.

              Lloyd placed his hands on her knees. “We have to find a way to be together without falling in swimming pools, using pepper spray, getting caught in the rain, or crying.”

              Erin tossed the balled up tissue in a trash bin. “You done for the day?”

              “I have to meet your friend,” Lloyd said.

              “My friend?”

              “That guy you’re always hanging out with. Nick De Luca.”

              “I’m not always hanging out with him.”

              “The guy rubs me the wrong way,” Lloyd said.

              “I don’t know, I think he’s nice,” Erin said. “Kind of handsome, too.”

              “I hate him,” Lloyd said with a playful scowl.

              Erin laughed. “You really are adorkable. But, you should cut him some slack.”

              “I don’t trust him,” Lloyd said. “It’s like he’s always checking on me.”

              “You have him pegged all wrong,” Erin said. “The guy admires you.  He’s got some kind of man-crush on you. Why are you meeting him, anyway?”

              “That’s the thing. I have no idea.”

              The sun was casting long shadows ahead of him as Lloyd rode his bike eastward on North Avenue. A long line of people had already formed outside of Johnny’s Italian Beef, eagerly waiting to taste the season’s first Italian ice.

              He turned left on Harlem Avenue where a vague memory of him going to the old Sears with his mother to buy a new school outfit flickered into his consciousness. His childhood, the life on North Mason, seemed so distant now as if it were another life altogether, detached from his present being; as if the broadcasting of his life had inadvertently switched to a different channel. If only it were so.

              The café was bustling with customers when he arrived. A few older faces of dark, deep complexions, but there were many younger men in business suits and shirt sleeves with loosened ties, mostly English speaking. The after work crowd.

              A young man in an A.C. Milan soccer jersey was pouring a draft beer behind the counter. Lloyd recognized in him the aloof countenance that is the hallmark of youth made to work in their parents’ business.

              He stepped up to the counter and said, “Excuse me, can you tell me how I get upstairs?” The young man eyed him suspiciously. “I’m here to see Mr. De Luca.” Then realizing that there may be a dozen De Lucas somehow affiliated to the café, Lloyd added, “Nick, the private eye.”

              The youth finished pouring the beer with a calculated sluggishness. He set the schooner on a cardboard coaster and, with an air of unnecessary somberness, pointed to a corner of the café.

              “Down the hallway, there’s a stairway to the left. If the door’s not open a crack, don’t bother knocking.”

              “Thanks,” Lloyd said. Why was it that every Italian kid of a certain age living in the Western Suburbs spoke like they were auditioning for The Godfather? 

              When Lloyd reached the top of the stairs, the door was open a crack. He was about to knock on the jamb when the door pulled open and a smiling De Luca stood there buttoning his suit jacket.

              “Heard you coming,” he said extending his hand to Lloyd.

              “Creaky step?”

              “Naah. The Ducati engine, I can recognize that in my sleep,” De Luca said. “Come in, come in.”

              The office was excessively neat. Just a lap top computer and a gold plated letter opener sat on the desk. A framed poster of Wrigley field adorned the back wall while a solitary black metal file cabinet stood in a corner. Lloyd suspected the De Luca brothers didn’t conduct much business in their side venture after all, and perhaps Nick had dragged him all the way here with the pretense of drumming up new business.

              “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Mineral water?”

              “I’m fine.”

              De Luca walked behind his desk, unbuttoned his jacket and invited Lloyd to sit with a sweep of his hand as he settled in his chair. Nick rested his hands on the desk, intertwined his fingers and leaned back in his chair. Lloyd wondered if the man was trying to size him up or if he was injecting melodrama to the meeting. He surveyed the room a second time to avoid eye contact.

              “You been in this office long?” Lloyd asked.

              “Why do you ask?”

              “I don’t see any pictures of your family.” Lloyd pronounced it,
pitchers
, imitating De Luca’s cadence.

              De Luca laughed. “You got me, Dr. Copeland. You got me good. But in this line of business, it’s best not to have family portraits on display.”

              “Rule one: trust no one,” Lloyd said.

              “You got that right.” De Luca flipped open his lap top. “Let me show you what I have to show you.” He typed on the keyboard and turned the computer around so Lloyd could see the screen. In a window, a video was playing with no sound. It was a black and white view of a corridor seen from above. Two figures came into view. Lloyd leaned towards the screen. It was him and Todd English. Lloyd didn’t need to see the rest. He turned the laptop back the other way.

              “It’s distasteful that I should even bring this to your attention,” De Luca said.

              “So why do you?”

              “The video was requested by the new Chief of Staff. I wanted you to get a sneak peak first. Give you a heads up so to speak,” De Luca said. “I mean, this doesn’t exactly portray you in the best light.”

              “Go ahead and show it to him.”

              “It’s not like I have a choice,” De Luca said.

              “I honestly don’t give a shit.”

              De Luca rapped his fingers on his desk. “Look, Dr. Copeland, I don’t mean to overstep my footing, and I say this with the greatest respect but, how can I say this? There are winds of change blowing at the medical center, and these winds…” De Luca seemed to be searching for words.

              “Just say what you have to say,” Lloyd said.

              “There are people who don’t like you so much at the hospital.”

              “That’s not new.”

              “But now they have the means to hurt you,” De Luca said.

              “And that I already know.”

              De Luca nodded. He folded down the laptop screen. “That’s all I had for you.”

              Lloyd stood up and headed for the door. He turned on his heels and said, “Why are you doing this?”

              De Luca raised his eyebrows as if he hadn’t understood the question.

              “Why are you trying to help me?” Lloyd asked.

              De Luca leaned back in his chair and stared at the letter opener on his desk and took a deep breath. “A couple of years ago, my grandfather was in the hospital. All these doctors coming in and out, poking this, prodding that, talking and talking but never saying anything (begging your pardon) like you doctors are apt to do sometimes. One afternoon, I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of his hospital room, and this group of about five doctors comes in. They pull the sheets down to his ankles, open his pajama shirt, they pull here, push there, do their usual talking, yada yada yada. But one doctor says nothing. He just listens. So then they start to leave. But the quiet one, he stays. He walks to the bedside and looks in grandpa’s eyes, still doesn’t say a word. He starts to button up grandpa’s pajama shirt, just like it was before they came in, and pulls the blanket back over his chest. Then he shakes grandpa’s hand and he leaves. So grandpa turns to me, and he says, in Italian, ‘This one… this one is a noble man.’ So I follow the group out in the hallway and I ask a nurse. I say, ‘Excuse me, but who’s that doctor?’ I point him out to her, ‘the handsome one right there.’ And she says, ‘Why, that’s Dr. Copeland.’ So I say, ‘What is he like a student doctor or something?’ And she says, ‘Oh no, he’s the attending physician. He’s the boss.’ So I go back in the room and I sit down again and I say, ‘You were right, grandpa. That was a noble man alright.’”