Ruth smiled. She was surprised a part of her felt relieved.
“As you know, I certainly understand. But I can also tell you that a partner in life is a welcome salve to the intensity of our work.”
“Yes, of course. But we can’t all be so lucky as to find a partner who is as like-minded as you, Ruth.” He looked at her earnestly. “Now I am, of course, happy to spend the afternoon divulging the details of my nonexistent romantic life, but when you called, I had a sense there was more reason for this meeting than a social visit. I know you like those less than I do.”
“You know me too well,” Ruth said with a laugh. “Although it does feel more like a family reunion with you.”
“That’s a really nice thing to hear. I feel the same. I’ve really missed our talks.”
“Me too.” She took a deep breath. “All right, I will just get to it then. I wanted to get your opinion about something. It’s a bit awkward.”
“Please, Ruth, there is nothing you could say that will offend me. I hope you still know that after all these years?” Edward smiled, and the sincerity in his face gave her strength.
“Edward, you should know that I overheard you and Robert that night . . . fighting about transorbital lobotomy.” She paused again and saw Edward’s face harden slightly. “I don’t want to revisit that evening. It’s just that these days Robert is spending more than half of his time traveling around the country performing these lobotomies. He’s doing so many so quickly, and when I look at the statistics at the hospital, I just wonder . . .”
Ruth watched Edward stiffen to attention, his body language betraying an overeager interest. “Oh, Edward.” She sighed, still not sure how to put these words together. “Things just feel different.”
“Different how?”
“Well, Robert was always so concerned with the patients. With the cure. He was working miracles. But now.” The waiter set a martini in front of her. “Something feels off to me about it all. The sheer volume—last year he apparently performed two hundred and twenty-eight lobotomies in twelve days. Twelve days? Is that even possible?”
Edward winced at this piece of information and then took a deep breath. “Ruth, there are a lot of things I want to say to you at this moment, but it really isn’t my place. Robert and I parted ways because we no longer saw eye to eye. I had concerns, and he didn’t want to hear them.”
He was interrupted by the waiter, and they placed their order. When the server was gone, Ruth continued.
“What kind of concerns did you have, exactly?” She leaned in closer to him as she took a long sip of her drink.
Edward stood and moved his chair around the table right next to hers. “We both know Robert is a brilliant man,” he said, his voice low and intense. “But he is also prideful and stubborn. And from the moment he performed his first transorbital lobotomy, he decided that this was going to be his legacy. He believed this method could be used even for less serious illnesses, and could be performed anywhere. I didn’t agree, on either count. And nothing I said could change his beliefs.”
“But he was right. Moniz won a Nobel Prize for lobotomy, thanks to Robert’s nomination. Robert is in high demand all over the country.”
“Yes. But—” Edward paused again. “Let me just say that lobotomy isn’t all that we’d hoped it would be. And Robert’s transorbital”—he shook his head—“well, I haven’t actually been with Robert when he is performing one but . . . I cannot conceive of how it would be possible to safely perform more than two hundred of any type of procedure in such few days, I really can’t.” This was what she had come to Edward for, but she realized she wasn’t prepared for his answer.
Their appetizers arrived. She watched him lift his small fork and stab one of the escargots floating in butter. She sensed that he was trying to stall. She took a bite of her salad, realizing she was grateful for the pause as well.