Do No Harm
- Based on the Painting “Nighthawks” by Edward Hopper
I gingerly hold the warm cup in my hands and gaze into its darkness for answers. Tonight, like every night, I only receive the reflection of an aging, nearly broke, and washed up doctor staring back at me. Doctor, “HA! What a joke.” I think to myself. I haven’t been a doctor since, wow, how long has it been? Well if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s don't use gold to buy silver, and not to trust people, even when you are trying to help them. I sip my coffee with an audible ‘slurp’ and allow its warmth to coat my throat before the bitterness hits my taste buds. The sign behind the counter reads “World’s Greatest Cup of Coffee”. I silently disagree.
Tonight, was a good night, I visit people who can’t afford a “real” doctor. I saw: 3 common colds, 1 full-fledged bout of influenza, 1 dislocated shoulder, 1 pregnancy diagnosis and put in 4 sutures – at the same house. It could have been 8, it should have been 8, but I only had enough thread for 4. Poor Donald, the fight broke out when he accused his wife Shirley of having an affair with the mail man. Another thing I’ve learned over the years, never accuse a woman of having an affair, while she is holding the dinner skillet in her hand.
Turns out Shirley is 3 months pregnant, which explains her lack of interest in poor Donald and her apparent moodiness. It’s still hard to work with pregnant women and I will most likely delivery her baby in about 6 months. I do what I can to help people who otherwise would get no medical treatment at all. Counting the payments from tonight, I have $5.15 to my name. Well, $5.10 after I pay for the “World’s Greatest Cup of Coffee”. Sam suddenly appears from behind the counter as if by magic and asks me if I want a refill. He begins pouring before I have a chance to answer.
“What do you make about them taking all those ‘Japs’ to them inter-mitten camps?” Sam asks me.
I assume he is referring to the internment camps for Japanese people living in America. Supposedly all the Japanese are spies, hell bent on destroying our way of life. Or at least that is what our Government wants us to think. Add to the fire, a few loud mouth politicians and this has turned into the battle cry many people have rallied behind, including our national news outlets.
I don’t want to start a debate with Sam over the issue of Japanese living in America. One more thing I’ve learned; don’t argue with someone who has no place to be. I have heard Sam talking to other patrons about the war and I feel he may have some misconceptions about the Japanese people. In particular, the ones who left Japan many years ago and are now living in America. “It’s tough to say who our enemy is these days,” I answer calmly, “but I would suppose most of the women and children they put in the camps don’t pose much of a threat to us.”
“Back when I was fight’n the Germans in the Great War,” Sam starts up, “we KNEW who we was fight’n and so did they. Hey, Doc, I ever tell you about that night in Belleau Wood,” he pronounces it Baloo Wood, “When that KRAUT come wondering over to our lines drunk… as… a… skunk…” The last four words he draws out in such a way, each word lasts longer than the one before it and with increasing emphasis, so by the end, the word Skunk starts with such a terrible hissing noise, I must cover my coffee with my hand. Suffice it to say, it is music to my ears when suddenly the bell above the door rings happily announcing the arrival of another connoisseur of the “World’s Greatest Cup of Coffee”. In fact, I have heard the story of the German Soldier who wandered into their camp those many years ago. I have heard the story so many times, the facts have started to change a bit to the point, I am not sure Sam was ever really part of the battle Belleau Wood.
I digress, Sam is a pretty good guy, so I try not to judge him too harshly. Plus, he may suspect, and rightfully so, that I am not technically a doctor, but he keeps quite about it. Sam has inquired once or twice about why I don’t get a job in a proper hospital, or open my own practice like Dr. Morgan did over on 97th Place. Usually my answers are vague and unmoving at best. So, I keep my thoughts to myself, and embrace the sound of the bell welcoming our new guest. Calm in the knowledge that Sam’s attention will be pulled away from a drawn out conversations with me about the First World War or the Second.
I glance over my shoulder and notice it is not one, but actually two new patrons arriving. It’s Frank “Hawk” Desoto and a girl I’ve never seen before. I had always thought Maria, or Maria Elizabeth her family name, was Hawk’s girlfriend. I see them in the neighborhood and she is sometimes there when I go into Desoto’s Grocery store down the block. So this new girl is quite the enigma to me.
I get the impression Mr. Desoto expects Hawk to take over the store in a few years, however, I can tell by Hawk’s demeanor he has no intention of doing so. Hawk has dreams of being someplace far away from Desoto’s Grocery and Sundries.
“Hi Ya, Hawk!” Sam exclaims in his jovial way.
“Hi Sam. This is my, friend, Ruth Goldman”, he says motioning to the girl by his side. He glances at me when he says friend, with a look in his eyes saying, ‘don’t go telling people what you saw here tonight.’ I return his inaudible comment with a short nod as he and Ruth enter.
Ruth is younger than Hawk, maybe late 20’s, possibly early 30’s, it is hard to tell with girls today. She is skinny with red hair. I use the term “red hair” rather loosely. I can tell there is a good chance the color on her head does not come naturally and can only be found by an extended trip to the beauty parlor. Ruth Goldman, Goldman is often an alias for Goldberg or Goldstein I think to myself. Usually changed officially over time or by the courts, but sometimes people just change the spoken version. Not to mention, she just looks Jewish, and really, who has ever heard of a red headed Jewish girl? I don’t have a problem with any of this, but I do have a problem with her perfume. It proclaims her arrival the way a herald announces the queen. You know she is coming before you ever see her. I have to stifle the tickle in my nose and blink a few tears from my eyes as they pass by behind me.
I silently wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Desoto would ever be open to this little “bambolina” in their family. I suspect not, which explains why Hawk only brings her to the neighborhood at this hour. Hawk is with Maria because his family approves. Maria Elizabeth is the type of girl you bring home to mom. He is with Ruth because he approves. Ruth is indeed prettier than Maria Elizabeth. Maria is just a bit homely and more round in the middle than Ruth. I, for one, appreciate the beauty of a woman with a fuller figure. I seem to be becoming the minority in this, as I notice, thinner and thinner girls in the pages of magazine and in the shop windows. Take Ruth for instance, Ruth’s hips look way too narrow for easy child birth. Thinking about her child birthing hips makes me remember that fateful night. I sometimes wonder if my patient was doomed from the start. Maybe she just came from bad stock, she was skinny. Maybe, she was never meant to have any children of her own, and I never should have tried to perform an operation I had only read about in college.
These days I see plenty of things visiting my patients at all hours of the night. “So don’t worry Mr. ‘Hawk’ Desoto,” I think to myself, “I won’t say anything about seeing you with Ruth tonight.” Not to mention, I would hate to see what a woman like Maria would do Hawk after being jilted like this, or worse what her father might do. The whispers in the neighborhood say her father is good friends with Tony, who everyone knows has connections with Abe Reles of the infamous, Murder Inc. Now with Abe gone Murder Inc. seems to be on the decline, but still I wonder who old Tony might be connected with now. I stitched up poor Donald tonight, I don’t plan to be stitching up Hawk tomorrow, or worse. I say the words “Primum Non Nocere,” to myself. That’s Latin for, ‘First Do No Harm’, an oath I swore, and broke, within the first month of practicing medicine, but have tried hard to keep ever since. Most nights I succeed, but sometimes I find myself wondering.
Sam’s voice snaps me back from my thoughts, “What are you two kids up to this late at night?” Sam asks, as he sets two cups in front of our new cohorts and begins to pour the coffee without even asking if they want any.
“We just saw the movie Citizen Kane, the one everyone has been talking about.” Hawk replies, while lighting a cigarette.
“I just don’t get the ending.” Ruth interjects. “What is Rosebud? What does it even mean, Rose … BUUUUUUUUUD?” She draws out the syllable bud, like the dying breath of Orson Wells, but much longer than is necessary. “It ruined the whole movie for me.” She finishes.
She sure is pretty, I think to myself, I hope it’s enough for Hawk. My mind wanders again, please try to keep her out of sight long enough, so I don’t have to fix you up anytime soon. I push my nickel across the counter as I stand and begin walking towards the door. Looking at Sam, I point at the World’s Greatest Cup of Coffee sign and say “Keep up the good work, Sam.”
“See ya tomorrow night Doc!” Sam calls after me.
I tip my hat, as I hear the jubilant jingle of the bells declaring my departure. Pushing open the door I am greeted by a cool breeze covering me like a dark embrace. Letting go of the door and stepping out I hear the bells behind me softly fade. Then silence, but only for a moment. When the moment is gone the echoes from a night many years ago take its place and the screams of a young girl dying during child birth become my only companion.
So, I begin my nightly journey into the abyss.
