"Pleased to meet you," Alfred said. He turned to the woman at his side. "And this is Karen Turner. My wife." The three women stood there, frozen. Paige said slowly, "Your wife?" "Yes." He frowned. "Didn't. . . didn't you get my letter?" "Letter?"
"Yes. I sent it several weeks ago." "No . . ."
"Oh. I ... I'm terribly sorry. I explained it all in my ... but of course, if you didn't get the . . ." His voice trailed off. . . . "I'm really sorry, Paige. You and I have been apart so long, that I ... and then I met Karen . . . and you know how it is ..."
"I know how it is," Paige said numbly. She turned to Karen and forced a smile. "I ... I hope you and Alfred will be very happy." "Thank you."
There was an awkward silence. Karen said, "I think we had better go, darling." "Yes. I think you had," Kat said. Alfred ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm really sorry, Paige. I ... well . . . goodbye." "Goodbye, Alfred."
The three women stood there, watching the departing newly weds.
"That bastard!" Kat said. "What a lousy thing to do."
Paige's eyes were brimming with tears. "I ... he didn't mean to ... I mean ... he must have explained everything in his letter."
Honey put her arms around Paige. "There ought to be a law that all men should be castrated."
"I'll drink to that," Kat said.
"Excuse me," Paige said. She hurried to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
She did not come out for the rest of the day.
Chapter Five
During the next few months, Paige saw very little of Kat and Honey. They would have a hurried breakfast in the cafeteria and occasionally pass one another in the corridors. They communicated mainly by leaving notes in the apartment.
"Dinner is in the fridge."
"The microwave is out."
"Sorry, I didn't have time to clean up."
"What about the three of us having dinner out Saturday night?''
The impossible hours continued to be a punishment, testing the limits of endurance for all the residents.
Paige welcomed the pressure. It gave her no time to think about Alfred and the wonderful future they had planned together. And yet, she could not get him out of her mind. What he had done filled her with a deep pain that refused to go away. She tortured herself with the futile game of "what if?"
What if I had stayed with Alfred in Africa? What if he had come to Chicago with me? What if he had not met Karen? What if . . .?
On a Friday when Paige went into the change room to put on her scrubs, the word "bitch" had been written on them with a black marker pen.
The following day when Paige went to look for her scut book, it was gone. All her notes had disappeared. Maybe I misplaced it, Paige thought
But she couldn't make herself believe it.
The world outside the hospital ceased to exist. Paige was aware that Iraq was pillaging Kuwait, but that was overshadowed by the needs of a fifteen-year-old patient who was dying of leukemia. The day East and West Germany became united, Paige was busy trying to save the life of a diabetic patient. Margaret Thatcher resigned as prime minister of England, but more important, the patient in 214 was able to walk again.
What made it bearable was the doctors Paige worked with. With few exceptions, they had dedicated themselves to healing others, relieving pain, and saving lives. Paige watched the miracles they performed every day, and it filled her with a sense of pride.
The greatest stress was working in the ER. The emergency room was constantly overcrowded with people suffering every form of trauma imaginable.
The long hours at the hospital and the pressures placed an enormous strain on the doctors and nurses who worked there. The divorce rate among the doctors was extraordinarily high, and extramarital affairs were common.
Tom Chang was one of those having a problem. He told Paige about it over coffee.
"I can handle the hours," Chang confided, "but my wife can't. She complains that she never sees me anymore and that I'm a stranger to our little girl. She's right. I don't know what to do about it."
"Has your wife visited the hospital?"
"No."
"Why don't you invite her here for lunch, Tom? Let her see what you're doing here and how important it is."
Chang brightened. "That's a good idea. Thanks, Paige. I will. I would like you to meet her. Will you join us for lunch?"
"I'd love to."
Chang's wife, Sye, turned out to be a lovely young woman with a classic, timeless beauty. Chang showed her around the hospital, and afterward they had lunch in the cafeteria with Paige.
Chang had told Paige that Sye had been born and raised in Hong Kong.
"How do you like San Francisco?" Paige asked.
There was a small silence. "It's an interesting city," Sye said politely, "but I feel as though I am a stranger here. It is too big, too noisy."
" But I understand Hong Kong is also big and noisy.''
"I come from a small village an hour away from Hong Kong. There, there is no noise and no automobiles, and everyone knows his neighbors." She looked at her husband. "Tom and I and our little daughter were very happy there. It is very beautiful on the island of Llama. It has white beaches and small farms, and nearby is a little fishing village, Sak Kwu Wan. It is so peaceful."
Her voice was filled with a wistful nostalgia. "My husband and I were together much of the time, as a family should be. Here, I never see him."
Paige said, "Mrs. Chang, I know it's difficult for you right now, but in a few years, Tom will be able to set up his own practice, and then his hours will be much easier."