“Will do, sir.”
Ruth made her way back to her desk and began to read over the candidate’s résumé. If this doctor was nearly as competent and cutting-edge in person as he was on paper, he might be just what Emeraldine needed. But her hope deflated as soon as he walked through the door.
Everything about his appearance was designed to impress, from his impeccably tailored suit to his ridiculous goatee. He was dressed like yet another striver who wanted to appear more successful than he was and who, she suspected, would ultimately follow the path of so many of the field’s most promising doctors: The initial enthusiasm worn down by an inability to break through. The fine suits replaced by stained shirtsleeves. Why bother dressing for work when your patients were often covered in the food they refused to eat, or worse, the excrement they smeared on themselves in some fit of fury?
Ruth pictured the spark in this man’s eyes dulled by reality until he, too, inevitably resorted to those old practices of padded cells and chains. That was not what Emeraldine aimed for. They were going to do better. To do more.
But then this man, this Dr. Robert Apter, began to talk. “Miss Emeraldine, I want to speak with you immediately about the protocol in this hospital. Madam, you could be doing so much more for your patients.”
Ruth cocked her head. “First off, I’m not a madam, and second, we have yet to even make introductions and you are already criticizing our hospital? We’ve designed every aspect to be current with the latest treatments and to give our patients the utmost dignity. As you know, these are the sickest of individuals; many have become dangers to themselves and others. I struggle every day to find ways to make our inmates more comfortable, to help them live lives that have some shred of humanity, while soldiering forward with protocols that will bring them the most relief.” Ruth felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in irritation. What a presumptuous, impertinent man. She looked out the window to collect herself. By the time she turned back, Dr. Apter had crossed the room and now stood directly at her side. He lifted Ruth’s hand and took it in his own. What was he doing?
“I am sorry, Miss Emeraldine. I am Dr. Robert Apter. So very pleased to make your acquaintance.” Was he mocking her? In her own office? “Now, may we get to the task at hand?” His rich brown eyes looked directly into her own and he winked. Winked! In the first moments of an interview at an insane asylum. Who was this man? “Miss Emeraldine, I know the reputation of this hospital, and of its forward-thinking administrative team. This is the reason I am being so forthright with you. Because I believe you are a rare person of like mind.”
“I s-see,” Ruth stammered, stepping away from him to regain her composure. “Because you believe, after just a few hours here, you now know enough about our hospital to comment on our hard work and that of our doctors?”
“I do not intend to offend. Simply to suggest that you expand your thinking.”
“Expand my thinking? Sir, I read every relevant medical journal on the treatment of insanity and associated mental disorders, some that even our doctors don’t read. And there is no one more devoted to employing the most progressive and promising treatments for my patients than I. So, please, do get to the point.” Although her tone was sharp, she had the smallest shine in her eye. Someone who knew her well would know she was more interested than she let on.
“Ah, but if I get right to the point, where will the suspense be?” he answered playfully. “You need to hear the overture before you experience the crescendo!”
“While I greatly appreciate the symphony, its place is not inside my office.” As irritated as she was by this theatrical display, she found herself struggling to suppress a smile. “Please, Doctor, tell me why it is that you might be interested in this job, and how you would intend to do your work here, so that I may get back to mine.”
“All right, I’ll tell you plainly if you insist.” He settled his compact body into the leather chair opposite her desk. She sat as well, although more formally, back straight at attention in the wooden seat of her desk chair. “I understand that you were one of the first hospitals to use convulsive therapy to treat your patients, is that correct?” he asked.