Resonance

by Barry Fields

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

Nadine wasn’t about to tell how the self-serving prick who chaired the review board got them to suspend her license for six months. How they’d banned her from her unorthodox form of treatment forever. How just today she’d received a letter from the American Medical Association supporting the actions of the state medical board and prohibiting her from using her curative voice in another state.

“There’s a why in there somewhere,” he said. “Like why you’re drinking alone and looking like your best friend just died.”

“A friend got some bad news.” She finished her drink.

“Tell me what happened if I buy you another?”

“No. But you can buy me one anyway.” Allowing herself one day of wallowing in misery was one thing, but she would never permit pity from someone else.

His name was Paul. He had a soft voice and a sweet smile. A fresh Old-Fashioned arrived. They found easy topics: local politics, travel, family, their favorite breeds of dogs.

Another hour passed, the unspoken subtext of sex bouncing between them when they traded formulaic compliments.

“I really enjoy talking to you,” she said.

“I haven’t felt this comfortable with a new person in... forever,” he replied.

This was what she’d come for: to meet someone who desired her on a day she needed a boost. Paul was unimposing, agreeable, safe. The opposite of a narcissistic jerk like Rossi.

She made up her mind. “Want to go to my place?”

He drove. They had a last drink in her living room, sitting so close they were practically touching. She almost lost patience before he finally leaned over and kissed her. Even as the heat built between them, his timidity lingered, and she had to lead him by the hand to the Great Pyramid tomb. It was going to be useful for something.

* * *

It didn’t take long for a benefactor to offer to move her sound chamber to his state, where she could join the ranks of non-licensed alternative practitioners. Or she could stay put and, when the suspension ended, resume a traditional family practice like she’d had before.

Nadine couldn’t accept either. Turning her back on her gift was unthinkable, but so was being banished from the medical profession. Obtaining a medical license had been her goal ever since she was old enough to read her father’s certificate framed on the wall.

In the midst of her quagmire, an email came from Washington, DC. The sender claimed to be the chief of staff of the Canadian embassy. She looked up the embassy’s number online. It matched the one he gave.

The chief of staff identified himself when she was connected to him.

“Nadine Barlowe. You called me.”

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly, Doctor. What your licensing board did is shocking. Have you decided what you’re going to do?” He had a deep voice, a humorless tone, and didn’t seem to care about being abrupt.

“My daddy used to tell me not to talk to strangers.”

“I have an offer for you. Medicine in Canada is different from the States. We want you. This comes from the Prime Minister himself.” He paused, for effect she guessed, but his monotone sounded like he was reading from a script. He continued: “He thinks what they did to you was counterproductive. Against the interests of citizens. If you’re willing to relocate, Canada will provide you with a house in Ottawa and move your sound chamber.”

That was over two hundred tons of stone blocks. “How do I even know you are who you say you are?”

“Our government is prepared to fly you to Ottawa to meet with the Minister of Health. You can explore the city, see if you like it. The minister can fill you in about Health Canada and how you would function within the system.”

“I’m still having a hard time believing you’re for real.”

He finally spoke with some emotion. “Go to Ottawa. You’ll see it’s real enough. Tell me when you want to go, and I’ll email you a plane ticket. We have your passport information from the trip you took to Vancouver a couple of years ago.”

“I would consider it only if I could keep my medical license.”

“We’ve already verified your education and training. The only thing you’ll need to do is pass a written qualifying exam.”

Nothing and no one tied her down here. Dazed when she hung up, Nadine pulled up photos of Ottawa online. It looked incredible, with old buildings, open spaces, clean streets, and a broad river separating it from the forests and lakes of Quebec. Various websites had American expats raving about the city. Moving meant leaving her sister, her parents, friends. But, what the hell, they could visit each other.

She called Paul. They’d gotten together a few times. She wanted to celebrate with dinner out and sex in. She emailed the fellow at the embassy to arrange for a visit.

* * *

Stacked boxes cluttered Nadine’s living room. Paul had been great, helping her pack and decide what to leave behind. The monumental work of disassembling the sound chamber and reconstructing it on Canadian government property had already been completed. She’d listed her house with a real estate agency.

The doorbell rang. She didn’t get many visitors nowadays and opened the door expecting one of her neighbors.

It wasn’t.

Nadine stood, arm holding the door ajar, mouth open, as incredulous as if looking at an alien.

Frank Rossi, MD, faced her. When several seconds went by and she didn’t speak, he said, “I apologize for coming unannounced. I had to see you.”

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“I need to talk to you.”

“If you think you’re going to sleep with me, the answer is still no.”

“Can I come inside?” he asked.

“Let me get my can of pepper spray first.”

“Very funny.”

She let him in and motioned him to the sofa. She sat on the chair. He looked older than when she’d seen him at the hearing a few months ago, tired with blue bags under his eyes, stooped, some hairs turning gray.

“Moving?” he asked.

“You took away my livelihood, remember?”

“Maybe I acted without thinking through all the ramifications.”

Nadine walked among the boxes, their contents labeled with Sharpies. She dug into one and returned with a single sheet. “This is the first letter you sent me about my supposed unethical conduct. I quote, ‘This is a matter to which I have given great consideration, in terms of what it means to you as a practicing physician, to the profession as a whole, and to the patients we serve.’ So you thought it through plenty. What are you doing here other than bullshitting me?”

She remained on her feet. He shifted uncomfortably and tapped his leg. Good, she’d rattled him.

“I’m sick. I began having symptoms over a year ago. I chalked them up to stress: working long hours, eating on the fly. It wasn’t until after your hearing that I saw an internist. Long story short, I have stage four pancreatic cancer. I waited so long that treatment hasn’t been effective.”

He paused, waiting for a response. Nadine didn’t give one. She knew what was coming. So let him beg.

“I’m going to die unless you help me.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” She stood over him, hands on hips, glowering.

“Come on, Nadine. You know how. Your voice. The harmonies.”

She took a step toward him. “Are you out of your mind? I’m forbidden from ever doing that again, thanks to you.” She pointed at finger at him and shouted. “You.” She lowered the volume. “I’m leaving in a few days. If I was going to risk going to jail for someone by practicing with a suspended license, it sure wouldn’t be you.”

“I thought you might say something like that. But consider this. I have a wife. I’m a grandfather. Think of them.”

Nadine took a large pile of papers out of a box and pulled one from an envelope. “Here. Read this aloud.”

He put on reading glasses. “‘Dear Dr. Barlowe, I hope you can help me because if you don’t I don’t have long to live. There’s something wrong with my blood and they can’t fix it. I have a store here in Albany and me and my wife and our three kids, the store barely supports us. I’m very sick. I don’t know what they’ll do without me. I don’t have much money but I hope you can save me.’ ”

He put the glasses back in their case. “What did you do?”

“I wrote back that I was sorry, but there was nothing I could do. He showed up anyway with his wife and kids. He cried and pleaded with me. It ripped my heart out having to tell him I couldn’t do it. I still can’t get him out of my mind.”

“You won’t get in trouble for working your system with me. It’ll be between you and me.”

Nadine, still standing, put her hands on her hips. “That’s all you have to say? No remorse that you’re the one who condemned that man to die and his kids to losing their father? And he’s just one. There are lots of others.”

She threw the stack of papers at him. They scattered, some envelopes hitting him and the loose sheets fluttering onto the floor and couch.

“I’m not just someone off the street; I have a crucial place in the medical profession. I consult on public policy. There’s a lot I do that people benefit from.”

“You tried to rape me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“That’s exactly what you did. And you think your life is more precious than other people’s? That it’s fine for me to turn them away, but not big, important you?”

“I need your help, Nadine. Please.”

“You disgust me. I want you out of here. Now.”

“I can get the board to rescind the license suspension.”

She shouted again, louder than before. “Get out!”

Glad she hadn’t told him the chamber had been moved, she walked to the front door and opened it.

Rossi still sat.

“The cold air’s getting in.”

He got up hesitantly and shuffled slowly to the door. Jaw tight, Nadine looked him in the eyes. “It feels like crap when someone else has the power, doesn’t it?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, shook his head sadly, and walked toward the street.

Watching his slow steps, Nadine gloated. Fine. Let him die.

The bloodless thought troubled her. It didn’t feel right. Her sense of triumph made her small. That Rossi was immoral and revolting didn’t matter. The harmony of her life did. She ran after him and knocked on the passenger side window. It rolled down.

“In a few days, I’m moving to Ottawa to work with my voice. If you come in a few weeks, I can see you after hours. I’ve told others, too, including my new friend from Albany, so don’t think you’re special.” She handed him her new card.

“Thank you.” He reached his hand out to shake, but she didn’t take it.

“I’m not doing it for you. You don’t deserve it.”

“Why, then?”

“That’s not something you’ll ever be able to understand.”

* * *

Nadine sat on a bench chewing a cheeseburger for dinner on the broad lawn of Major’s Hill Park. The government had chosen a pretty spot for her, among paved paths that meandered past flower beds. The stately parliament buildings soared above broadleaf trees on a nearby hill. Her polished granite chamber, a curiosity for the locals who strolled the park grounds, glinted red in the descending sun.

After eating, Nadine entered the front door to the antechamber. The receptionist had gone. After hours, non-Canadians sat in the waiting room. A young Greek woman, who spoke with a thick accent, suffered from inherited thalassemia and had gotten to the point where even blood transfusions weren’t working. She had two children and with her husband owned a small hotel on Crete.

An older man from Nevada had COPD, his breath labored and wheezy. Frank Rossi stood when she entered, as if his going first was a matter of course. She might as well get the unpleasantness over with. She led him into the chamber.

“It really looks like a tomb in here,” Rossi said.

“Lie down on the table.”

Nadine felt something wrong as soon as he did. Something akin to an electrical exchange always happened with her patients. But what she felt now tightened her throat, choking her, as if Frank emitted a short-circuiting voltage.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “When are you going to do your trick?”

She opened her mouth to give it a try in spite of the lack of resonance. Complete discord filled the room, more repulsive than a screechy violin producing random, grating notes.

She stopped.

Frank sat up. “That was horrible. Why aren’t you fixing me?”

Nadine stepped away from him. “I’m sorry. This has never happened before. It isn’t going to work.”

He stood up and got in her face. “You’re doing this on purpose. You made me come all the way here, and you never intended to help me, you nasty bitch.”

She took a few steps back. “There’s a dissonance that totally blocks me. Maybe it’s in you, maybe between us. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Bullshit. You’re getting revenge, pure and simple.”

“You’re the one motivated by revenge. Not me.”

Rossi walked to the door. “Canada can have you. I hope you screw up so bad they throw you in prison.”

After he left, Nadine took a few minutes to shake it off, regain her balance. She brought the young woman, eyes bloodshot from crying, into the chamber. The air hummed with a soft, familiar current.

It was time to get back to work.