insurance policy. Something she never thought about receiving. The policies were supposed to be for the kids, not for themselves. There was a lot of money. She wouldn’t have to work another day in her life if she didn’t want to. But a life of leisure was not for Leslie. She was trying to decide between joining the armed services or some volunteer organization like Doctors Without Walls or the Peace Corps, when the idea of locum tenens work came up and she realized that in doing temporary work she could live anonymously and never again establish roots.
Leslie found an agency and went to work. They kept her very busy. Locum tenens docs were in big demand. She went from one job to another, flying or driving, depending on the accessibility of each location to an airport and the amount of time between jobs. She stayed in the local hotels with inside corridors and rented mid-sized cars. She stocked the mini-fridge with Diet A & W root beer, yogurt and baby carrots. She did her job, got paid, moved on. There was always work, and in fact Dr. Cohen was in big demand. She may have made more than she had as a physician in private practice and there were less hassles. Locum tenens work was inconsistent with a normal family life. The people who did it were usually single or retired and didn’t have kids to look after. There were also guys out there who just couldn’t handle working in a practice with all the relationships and commitments that came along with it. Locums work was ideal for that sort.
Leslie fit in there somewhere. She was single and couldn’t handle private practice any more. She sent letters to all her patients. She turned her practice over to her partners after she had, for the most part, finished caring for all of her post-operative patients. That had taken about four months.
The whole process of divesting herself of everything she and Chris had taken fifteen years to build took all of about six months. Done. She left the storage room and the five urns containing the ashes of her mom and dad, Chris, Victor and Vivian Cohen in a New Paltz mausoleum. Then she headed off to her first assignment in Bolivar, Missouri where a local orthopod needed a well deserved vacation with his family after two years of working without a break.
5
Leslie thought about calling Brenda Hawley and making up some excuse to get out of going to dinner. She avoided personal engagements, period. Personal engagements meant personal questions without exception. No one ever talked about the weather or the job. They wanted something. They wanted a history. She remembered some song from the sixties. “What’s your name…Who’s your daddy?” One question always led to another and eventually she had to lie. The truth was too painful to tell. But more than that, it was too painful to hear. People couldn’t bare the truth. All conversation stopped as people pondered her situation, and then the significance of their own lives. She learned that it was easier for everyone if she just lied. Vic and Vivi ceased to exist and she was just a widow. There were a lot of widows and widowers out there. They can relate. It was too bad, but she was still young. Life goes on. But then they start to try to match her up with someone. Soon, the lie extended to time. The date of the accident ceased to exist. If it’s only been a year, no one tries to play matchmaker. They don’t even think about it. She was still in mourning. Not proper. She hated to lie, but it was easy and it worked.
Of course she was going to have to go to dinner. Doc Hawley and his wife/office manager wanted to check her out and give her the lay of the land. To them, this was more than just covering random emergency room patients and rounding on patients in the hospital. It was taking over their practice for a while. She was also certain they wanted to see what a female locum looked like. There was no doubt in her mind that ol’ Doc Hawley never came within spitting distance of a female orthopedic surgeon in his training and maybe in his entire career. When dealing with the locum agencies a physician usually had to take what was available. Clients were always happy with the job Leslie did and so the agency didn’t have any problems convincing subsequent clients to use the female orthopod.
Terryl called with directions. He had been held up with some hospital business and would have to give her the tour tomorrow. Hospital business. She remembered the time she had gotten caught in her hospital restroom without toilet paper. She had to walk out into the sink area with her pants down around her knees to grab some paper towels out of the canister on the wall. Fortunately no one was in there at the time. She finished her business with as much dignity as she could muster. She washed her hands and went straight to the administrator’s office where she chewed him out and was assured that it would never happen again. And it didn’t. Hospital business.
Terryl apologized. Leslie really didn’t mind missing the tour today. She didn’t change her clothes. Watched a little TV before it was time to go.
Raghu was back tonight. “Goodnight, Dr. Cohen. See you later.”
She gave a short wave as she walked past his desk. Outside it was windy and cold. The two sets of automatic doors created some turbulence between them, and it whipped her coat and hair in different directions. Under the portico the wind came sideways, hard. She pulled her coat around herself. Dirt, accompanied by pieces of paper and Styrofoam raced across the asphalt. She could see a fence to her left at the end of the parking lot where the debris was entangled, cut off indefinitely from some journey. Could a paper cup go all the way from Abilene to Waco? Could it go to the Atlantic? Her car was parked in front of the fence. Pieces of paper and a plastic grocery bag were stuck on the fence. Little criss-cross lines etched into their surfaces. The wind thrashed them against the wires. They buzzed, screaming to get free. She walked over and picked one off the fence. Then let it loose. It shot across a ditch, got caught in a whirlwind and then stuck again in a dead bush. Others were stuck there too. Never meant to make it anywhere. Staying in Abilene.
She opened her car door. The wind yanked the door out of her hand. She reached to keep it from hitting the car parked next to hers.
As Leslie drove across Abilene she could feel the wind lash against her car in the intervals between buildings, on overpasses, and as she passed other vehicles. Dirt darted across the highways, bringing ancient debris with it. She passed strip shopping centers, old and new, then hotels, small neighborhoods and gas stations. Texas was for the most part, unzoned, and there might be a gas station or a strip shopping center or a Wal-Mart right next to a neighborhood. It was sometimes unsightly, but there was beauty in opportunity. In Kansas, she could drive for miles and see only factories, or see only homes. There was beauty in that too.
She turned into an upper end neighborhood, and following Terryl’s directions, arrived at the ranch-style home of Dr. and Mrs. Hawley. It was smaller than she had expected. Creamy light glowed from inside. Inviting. Open. Paintings, upholstered chairs and lamps were visible from the street. She guessed this was a forty-year-old neighborhood. There were larger trees here than she had seen in the rest of Abilene. Most likely planted when the area was developed. Somebody was thinking back then. The neighborhood was quiet, dark and the streets were wide. The trees blocked the wind where she was but up in the tree tops she could see its frantic struggle.
The doorbell was answered by barking dogs. Through the leaded glass windows inside the door she could see labs. Eager yellow dogs with thick pipe-like tails wagging their hindquarters from side to side. It looked like they couldn’t wait to jump up on her so she was prepared for it when the door was opened.
“Jake, Booker, sit,” a soft but stern voice called to them. Instantly the two sat down while keeping their anxious brown eyes fixed on Leslie. Pipe tails still twitching back and forth, storing energy. She reached down with one hand to pet them and the other to shake her hostess’s hand.
“Hi, Leslie Cohen. Beautiful dogs. I had labs when I was a kid.”
“These are our kids now that Hal junior is grown. And they’re a little easier to take care of than he was. I’m Brenda. It’s so nice to meet you. We’re so glad you were able to come here and take over big Hal’s practice for a while.”
“Well, the agency just pointed me in the right direction and here I am.” It wasn’t that clever but Brenda chuckled diplomatically anyway.
“The boys like you but just let me know if they’re bothering you.” Then to the dogs, “Jake, Booker,