Mitch wasn’t ready to leave the bar. He really didn’t have any
where to go anyway except to his empty apartment a few
blocks away.
He sat at the bar and texted Josh, inviting him to join him.
The outside door opened. Adam Young, sporting his Knicks
hat and a heavy down jacket, walked in.
“Hey, Adam.” Mitch motioned for Adam to join him at the
bar. “What brings you in here this dismal afternoon?”
“Waiting to hear from Sophie so I can go pick her up.”
“Can I buy you a beer while you’re waiting?”
“Sure, thanks. But only one.”
“O-o-o-h-h-h-kay.” Mitch cocked his eyebrow. He wasn’t
going to ask.
Mitch ordered two beers and another shot for himself. They
toasted and picked up their conversation from the last time. After
they recapped the Knicks’ past few games, the topic turned to the
weather, with more snow predicted over the weekend. It wasn’t
long before the conversation turned to politics. Thankfully, they
held similar political beliefs.
The bar was getting crowded. Nurses and doctors walked in
dressed in their puffy winter jackets, tossing backpacks and lap
top cases on the tables. Mitch was enjoying a relaxed buzz—a
feeling he wasn’t used to and, frankly, one he often avoided. He
hated losing control, and that was exactly what liquor could do.
But he also knew his limit, and he was nowhere close to that yet.
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JULIE HATCH
While talking with Adam about the latest subway shoot
ings, Mitch reached into his pocket for a toothpick. Three vials
slipped out and fell on the floor.
“Whoops,” he grunted as he stooped to pick them up.
Adam got off his barstool and offered to help collect the vials
that were, by then, rolling under other barstools.
“Dr. Wagner, why do you have these with you?” Adam asked,
reading the labels.
“Because we use them in triage.”
“Really? What are they?”
Mitch didn’t think this guy would fully understand the phar
maceutical effects and actions of each medication, and he was
in no state of mind to give a pharmacology lecture. He kept it
simple. “One stops labor, and one speeds labor up.”
“How can you leave the hospital with meds in your pocket?”
“Adam, between you and me? I can carry whatever I want out
of the hospital. Almost.” He held up a pink-capped vial. “Except
maybe this one. This one’ll get me in trouble if I don’t get it back
there soon.”
“What’s it for?”
“It helps mothers to forget all about the pain of labor. It’s a
wonderful medication.”
“I’m not so sure mothers want to forget all about their child
birth experience. Just sayin’.”
Mitch took the vials back from Adam, who had been exam
ining the labels. “No, Adam, these mothers don’t know what’s
best for them. They think they want to deliver naturally, no epi
dural, no anesthetics, but you and I both know they don’t know
what they’re talking about. They think that’s what they want, but
it’s not.” He raised his finger to the bartender. “Another round,
please.” He wondered for just a moment if he’d already reached
his limit, then dismissed the idea.
“Actually, Dr. Wagner,” Adam answered, “that’s not what I
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THE VERY BEST OF CARE
would guess, but I’ve never been in labor, so how would I know?”
“Exactly.” Mitch brushed some strands of hair off his fore
head, tucking them into their slicked-back position. “I try to do a
good job of keeping triage running efficiently. If it wasn’t for Rita
and Charlie, I could have that place humming along like a well
oiled machine. But Charlie will never yield that much control
to me.”
“Who’s Charlie?”
“He and Rita—you know the lady who comes through the
NICU almost daily? They’re the ones in charge. They’re in con
trol. I just follow their orders.”
Adam took a sip of his beer, not saying anything.
“Part of what I do is keep the hospital in the black.” Not sure
Adam understood the financial terminology, Mitch added, “You
know, making money rather than losing it. Triage and NICU,
they make money for the hospital.”
“You sound more like a businessman than a doctor,” Adam
said. “What do the vials have to do with anything?”
Mitch felt the conversation starting to go sideways. He
paused for a moment, trying to remember what they’d been
talking about. Right, the vials.
“Nothing, Doogie Howser.” Mitch playfully landed a light
punch on Adam’s bicep. “The vials mean nothing.”
He ordered another round for himself.
The bartender hesitated. “Dr. Wagner, are you sure? Maybe
you should take a break.”
Mitch glowered at the bartender. “I don’t need a break. What
I need is one more round. Please.”
He turned around to see Josh coming into the bar.
“Joshie!” Mitch called out. “Come join us over here. Have
you met Adam?” He slung his arm over Adam’s shoulders. “This
guy is great. He’s the husband of a patient, but he’s really cool.”
Josh looked at Mitch, then at Adam.
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JULIE HATCH
Adam sipped his beer and watched.
“Mitch, what are you doing? What have you been talking
about to Adam?”
“Adam, meet Josh, our rep for Kindred Pharmaceuticals. Josh
here is the best drug salesman around. Aren’t you, Josh? No, I
think I’d call you the most typical salesman—you’ll say whatever
you have to in order to make a deal, and you’re full of shit most
of the time.”
Mitch laughed hard. Adam lowered his eyes.
Mitch took his arm off Adam’s shoulders and put it around
Josh. “Just kidding, Josh. You keep us rolling. Triage couldn’t run
without you.”
“Thanks, Mitch. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m meeting a
colleague.”
After Josh moved away, Mitch decided it was time to leave.
He poured the shot down his throat, enjoying the burn, then
turned a little too quickly to slide off the barstool. Adam caught
him and helped him steady himself.
“Thanks, Adam. I’ll see ya ’round.”
As he walked outside into the cold winter air, Mitch paused,
trying again to recall the conversation with Adam, but the biting
wind stole his thoughts, and instead, he turned his attention to
heading home
