Free Random Winds by Belva Plain

again.
    “Although, taking another point of view, it’s very old. Ancient, in fact. The Egyptians trephined the skull four thousand years ago, using sharpened stones.”
    With a clean fork, he pressed a diagram into the tablecloth.
    “You were in the war, weren’t you, Doctor?”
    “I worked in a British military hospital. My clinical training I had taken in Germany before the war.” Albeniz shrugged. “Medicine knows no politics, or shouldn’t. But that early work was crude. There were too many infections. We’ve come a good way since then.”
    “I see that.”
    “Did you know we’re going to have a separate department starting in September? At last we’ll be removed from general surgery. And high time.”
    “I didn’t know.”
    “Well, it’s just been decided. Of course, that will be only a start What we ought to have, what I dream of, is an institute where neurosurgery and neurology could be combined. Then we could truly study the whole brain: its function, pathology, even the tie-in with what is called ‘mental illness,’ which has, I’ve long been convinced, a physical cause. Perhaps God knows how many physical causes.” He sighed. “But, as I say, that’s only my dream. I haven’t the money or the influence to make it come true. I’m no good at medical politics. I’ll just be grateful for this little new department and let it go at that.” He made a small pyramid with his fingertips. “I’m talking too much. Tell me, what do you think about what I’ve just told you?”
    Martin shook his head. “I haven’t any right to think. I don’t know anything about it.”
    “Well spoken! I like that! I detest these fellows who go on rounds and wisely nod their heads, pretending to know, when they haven’t the slightest idea what it’s all about. How do you like the veal?”
    “Oh, great! Some change from the cafeteria!”
    “I should hope so. Tell me, what are you planning to do when you finish in June?”
    “Work with my father. He’s got a general practice upstate.”
    Dr. Albeniz studied Martin. His austere face softened.
    “Are you happy about it?”
    No one had ever put the question like that. People assumed he was happy. You finished your internship; then you went into practice, and if you had one already waitingfor you, why then, you were just very, very lucky indeed! So he waited a moment and then, for the first time, expressed the truth.
    “No sir, I don’t think I am.”
    “I see.”
    “I guess I haven’t wanted to admit it, even to myself.”
    He turned away, looking at an amateurish painting of Italy, candy-pink roses against a white wall and a gaudy blue sky.
    “Have some more pasta. You’re thin enough to afford it.”
    “Thank you, but I’m not all that hungry.”
    “I’ve upset you with my questions, haven’t I?”
    “A little, maybe.”
    “More than a little. You know, or maybe you don’t know, that I’ve been observing you? Ever since that time you sewed up the girl’s face. It’s strange that you should have come to my attention through work that’s not in my field, but I knew that the hands which could do that without having been taught could do much more.”
    Martin waited. He became conscious of his heartbeat.
    “And then you began coming to watch me, and you came to the lab and you asked intelligent questions.”
    The beat accelerated.
    “You’re aware, of course, that you’ve earned a reputation this year?”
    “Well, I—”
    “Come, come! Dr. Fields tells me you’re the best intern he’s had in his service in ten years.”
    “I didn’t know that, sir.”
    “Well, you know it now. So hear me. I’m coming to the point. In this new service that I’m to have, I can train two young men. I already have one coming from Philadelphia in the fall. I’m asking you to be the other.”
    Martin looked at him dumbly.
    “You understand what I’m driving at. I wouldn’t have to waste words with you. I’m doing a lot of talking now, but the fact