Free A White Room by Stephanie Carroll

and all the angles of his body seemed sharp. I half-expected his elbows to slice through the chair.
    The most bizarre thing about Marcellus, however, was his wife, Mrs. Ida Rippring, who was as high-society as they come. John’s mother had told me she could have as much control over Labellum’s society as she wanted. So why had she chosen to marry Marcellus? We were invited to dine with the Ripprings that weekend. Perhaps I would discover their secrets.
    Marcellus swallowed the mushy remnants of the candied plum. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Walter.”
    “What do you mean?” John tipped his glass toward the young doctor. “Walter, I think you showed some real backbone today.” John laughed and took another sip of brandy.
    I placed the bowl of sugar cubes on the table and motioned to Marcellus to see if he wanted more whiskey.
    He grunted and extended his glass, keeping his attention on the men. “When that girl started screaming and screeching, you turned white!”
    I pulled back at the mention of screaming, and whiskey dripped down his knuckles and onto the rug. John’s laugh trailed off uncomfortably. Marcellus transferred the glass to his other hand and shook the right, sprinkling liquor about the room and onto me. A drop landed on my cheek, just under my eye. I scrambled to fetch a cloth from the tray. I peeked at John, fearing he would be upset, but he wasn’t looking at me. Walter’s body had stiffened, and he stared at Marcellus.
    I dabbed Marcellus’ hands with the cloth. “My apologies.”
    He didn’t respond.
    Finally, Walter adjusted in his seat. “Empathy is a necessary skill in the field of medicine. I can’t shut it off.”
    “Says who?” Marcellus asked as I moved from his hand to the floor. “Your father doesn’t practice that way.”
    Another pause.
    “I assure you it’s an important quality in my profession, no matter how my father practices.”
    “Not in mine.” Marcellus snickered.
    John cleared his throat and repositioned himself. “It must have been difficult, but you did the right thing.”
    Walter glared at Marcellus for a moment longer and then faced my husband. “Honestly, John, I’m not sure if this is something to celebrate. I understand the legal issues and want to see these people removed from society, but I personally feel it’s unacceptable to hold physicians accountable for doing their jobs. Physicians shouldn’t be charged for aiding a patient as long as they report it. We take an oath to preserve life.”
    “Your oath doesn’t cover criminals,” Marcellus said and coughed a wet cough.
    “Actually, it does.”
    John smothered his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “Mr. Coddington knows that, but it is the law. When doctors are held accountable for reporting, arrests increase significantly.”
    “I’m not all that sure if I would do it again,” Walter mumbled.
    Marcellus gulped his liquor. “Ha!”
    John shifted his eyes to Marcellus and then to Walter. “I’ll mention it to Mr. Coddington, but you know he doesn’t think highly of my opinion.”
    I picked up the tray.
    “How did you find yourself in such a situation in the first place, Walter?” Marcellus asked.
    I meandered toward the door.
    “She sent her driver.”
    “Did he just blurt it out?”
    I stopped to reposition a goblin-like statuette, stalling.
    “What else would he have done?”
    I started toward the door again.
    “I can’t believe how sloppy these people are when things go wrong,” Marcellus scoffed.
    “If your daughter was bleeding and screaming, I’m sure you’d be a bit sloppy yourself.”
    I stopped with my back to the group of men. They paused, too, until John cleared his throat. I walked out and flattened myself against the wall outside, listening.
    “I don’t have any children,” Marcellus said.
    “Neither do I, but I assure you, you would do the same,” Walter said.
    “Walter, you’re just going to have to grow a stronger backbone.”
    “I think I should