She finished off her drink and then decided to get to the point before she lost her nerve. “Do you think he’s becoming reckless? Could what he’s doing be dangerous?”
“I think it’s possible that he’s become unwilling, or perhaps unable, to see the facts for what they are.”
“But, surely, he would never risk the well-being of a patient?”
“I hope not. But, even when we worked together, he managed to see every failure as an exception and every success as the rule.” Edward looked up at her and then glanced suspiciously around the restaurant. It was empty except for one table in the opposite corner. “Remember Rosemary Kennedy?”
“Of course I do. But those were still early days, and that was one bad outcome. Broke my heart, but I know there were some of those, especially before Robert transitioned to the transorbital approach.”
“Yes, we had some bad outcomes. But this one could have been avoided.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we got to Boston and evaluated Rosemary, it seemed that some form of mental retardation was impacting her behavior, and I suggested that she might not benefit from a lobotomy. But Joseph insisted. And Robert was so anxious for the publicity, I let him convince me. So, to help save the political ambitions of the famous Kennedys, we took a young woman with a lower-than-average IQ and some mild behavioral problems and reduced her to a near-mute toddler in the body of an adult.” Edward looked away, but Ruth could still see the shame and fury on his face.
She reached for her martini glass and, realizing it was empty, signaled the waiter for a second drink. “Surely that can’t be right?”
“I wish it weren’t. The thing is, there are many others like her, Ruth. Men and women who, yes, were somewhat unstable before, but were still functioning at some basic level until, until . . .”
“Until?” Ruth felt her head swimming.
“I’m sorry.” He gently took her hand in his. “The last thing I want is to upset you. I am sure you see evidence of what I’m talking about at Emeraldine.” The faces of some of her old patients flashed before her as his eyes locked onto hers searchingly. She held his gaze for a moment and then looked away, overwhelmed by his seeming sincerity, his intensity, and the implications of what he alleged.
“Of course, there are patients who have remained at the hospital after lobotomy, more than I anticipated, to be honest. But their lives within the hospital are so much better. Aren’t they? You saw that when you were there—”
They were interrupted by the arrival of a bright blue enameled Dutch oven filled with rich coq au vin. The signature dish in this rustic Proven?al restaurant was meant to be eaten family-style. Normally Ruth wouldn’t have minded this in the slightest but, in the midst of this deeply unsettling conversation, the intimacy of it made her uncomfortable. She took a small portion of the red wine–braised chicken and ladled it over the roasted potatoes. And then she moved the food around her plate as Edward ate. After what she heard, she didn’t have an appetite.
She allowed the conversation to veer away from Robert momentarily. She had such a long history with Edward, it felt good to have a more ordinary and banal discussion for a few minutes. To feel almost like the old days again.
As they finished their meal and ordered coffee to offset the martinis, Ruth turned back to the subject at hand. “Edward, please. I need to understand. My patients, they have been improved by lobotomy. Even the ones who remain at Emeraldine. You can’t dispute that?”
“In some cases, yes, but . . . Listen, I have already said more than I intended, but I will say this: I believe there is a place for lobotomy in the spectrum of treatment, but it is far from the same as where Robert sees it. So, if you are concerned that he is performing more lobotomies than he should, at Emeraldine or elsewhere, well . . .” He looked up over her shoulder at the clock on the wall and then hurriedly waved for the waiter, getting out cash to pay the check.