“Well?” Ruth perched on the edge of her chair, and as she leaned closer to Edward in anticipation of his response, she nearly tipped it over. She steadied herself and tried to appear calmer as she looked at Edward and asked him pleadingly, “Well, what?”
“I can see that I am upsetting you. That’s the last thing I want to do. Just know that I support you, whatever you decide to do. I’m so sorry, but I’ve already overstayed. I have a consultation and have to get back.”
“Yes. Of course.” Ruth was surprised to see it was nearly three o’clock and began to gather her things in a daze. What does he mean “whatever I decide to do”？
“I truly am sorry. It was wonderful to get to see you again today. I wish I could have been of more help.”
Ruth stood at the door of the restaurant, putting on her wool coat and wrapping her fur muffler over her head, stupefied. She had long ago stopped scrutinizing lobotomy the way she had in the beginning. Was it possible she had also grown so distant from the day-to-day of the patients at her own hospital that she didn’t realize how little improvement the procedure had made for them? The fact that she couldn’t answer this question with a definitive no made her wince. It was time to get herself back to the core of her work, the reason for it all—the patients. The future of her hospital might depend on it.
Chapter Thirty-One
After her lunch with Edward, Ruth went immediately to the continuous care ward at Emeraldine, the quarters of the long-term lobotomy patients. Robert had always been honest about the fact that not every lobotomy had been a complete success. Some inmates remained at the hospital even after their surgeries. But typically, lobotomy freed them of the anxieties and aggressive behaviors that limited them before, and significantly improved their quality of life. They could move freely around the ward, enjoy the recreational activities that had been off-limits to them, even have friendships. That was progress.
It was around time for afternoon snack, so Ruth went to the dining hall, hoping to see several patients all at once, but she had miscalculated, and the room was almost empty. She scanned the tables and noticed a man sitting in the corner alone. He sat hunched over his tray, his gray hair untidily hanging down, obscuring his face. His long, elegant fingers rhythmically lifted a teapot that sat on the table in front of him, pouring imaginary tea into a cup and saucer. Ruth watched him do this for what felt like several minutes before she realized who she was looking at. Her chest tightened as a stunned panic rose inside her.
“Albert, Albert Burdell? Is that you, my dear friend?” The man looked up and squinted at Ruth, a blank expression on his face. “It’s me, Ruth Apter. Remember?” She approached him tentatively. When she reached the table, she slowly pulled out a chair. “May I join you?” She tried to hide her shock at his unkempt appearance.
He looked at her with a vacant expression. Was it possible that he really didn’t know who she was? Her heart sank. Had she abandoned him for so long that he didn’t remember?
“Want some tea?” he asked her matter-of-factly.
“Oh yes, I would love some, thank you. Let me go and get myself a cup.”
“No, here.” He slid his cup toward her and began to pour from his empty teapot. “Careful,” he warned. “It’s hot.”
She looked at him with a frozen smile. How could this be the same man she used to have intense debates with about Sartre and Camus, and the nature of human relationships?
“Thank you for the tea, Albert. Don’t you remember me at all? We used to go for walks together in the garden and talk about all the books you’ve read. We were very good friends.” She tried to lock eyes with him, but when she did, she saw only emptiness behind his brown irises. She racked her mind to remember when she had actually last seen him. His lobotomy happened during the height of the Haddington scandal. She had been so preoccupied. What an awful person she had become that she was so engulfed by her role as the new head of the hospital that she had all but forgotten about her most treasured patients. She was disgusted with herself.