Mindbend

Adam got on the elevator and pushed the button for the eighth floor. He could remember going up in the elevator with David when David was in medical school. David was ten years older than Adam and, as far as Adam was concerned, seemed more like an adult than a brother. Adam used to be left in his father’s waiting room while David was taken to meet doctor colleagues.

Adam got off at the eighth floor and turned to the right.

As the offices became larger and more attractive, the secretaries got plainer. Adam could remember that it was David who had pointed that out to him.

Hesitating before the executive offices, Adam wondered what his relationship with his father would be like if David hadn’t died in Vietnam. Not too many doctors had been killed over there, but David had managed it. He’d always been one to volunteer for anything. It had been the last year of the war and Adam had been fifteen at the time.

The event had crippled the family. Adam’s mother had gone into a terrible depression that required shock therapy. She still wasn’t her old self. Adam’s father hadn’t weathered the news much better. After several months of his withdrawn silence, Adam had gone to him and told him that he’d decided to become a doctor. Instead of being pleased, his father had cried and turned away.

Adam paused in front of his father’s office, then screwing up his courage, walked up to Mrs. Margaret Weintrob’s desk.

She was an enormous woman who swamped her swivel chair. Her dress was a tentlike affair made from a flower-print cotton.

Her upper arms had enormous rolls of fat, making her sizable forearms appear slender by comparison.

But, aside from her weight, she was exceptionally well groomed. She smiled when she saw Adam and, without getting up, extended a hand in greeting.

Adam shook the slightly damp hand and returned the smile.

They had always gotten along fine. She’d been Adam’s father’s secretary as far back as Adam could remember, and she’d always been sensitive to Adam’s shyness.

“Where have you been?” she asked, pretending to be angry.

“It’s been ages since you’ve visited.”

“Medical school doesn’t allow for too much free time,”

said Adam. His father kept few secrets from Margaret, and Adam was sure she knew why he hadn’t been around.

“As usual, your father’s on the phone. He’ll be off in a minute. Can I get you some coffee or tea?”

Adam shook his head no, and hung his coat on a brass coatrack. He sat down on a vinyl bleacher. He remembered that his father did not like to give the impression that the government was wasting the public’s money on such frills as comfortable seating. In fact, the whole outer office had a utilitarian look. For Dr. Schonberg Senior it was a matter of principle. For the same reason, he refused the car and driver that came with his office.

Adam sat trying to marshal his arguments, but he wasn’t very sanguine. When he had called early that morning to arrange the meeting, his father had been gruff, as if he knew that Adam was going to ask for money.

There was a buzz. Margaret smiled. “Your father’s waiting for you.”

As Adam grimly rose to his feet, she reached out and placed a hand on his forearm.

“He’s still suffering from David’s death,” she said. “Try to understand. He does love you.”

“David died nine years ago,” said Adam.

Margaret nodded and patted Adam’s arm. “I just wanted you to know what’s going on in his mind.”

Adam opened the door and went into his father’s office. It was a large square room with tall windows that looked out onto a pleasant inner garden. The other walls were covered with bookcases and in the middle of the room was a large oak desk. Two good-sized library tables were spaced perpendicularly on either side of it, creating a spacious U-shaped work area. In its center sat Adam’s father.

Adam resembled his father closely enough for people to guess their relationship. Dr. Schonberg, too, had thick curly hair, though his was graying at the temples. The greatest difference between the two men was size, the father being more than five inches shorter than his son.

As Adam came in and shut the door, Dr. Schonberg had a pen in his hand. Carefully he put it in its holder.

“Hello,” said Adam. He noted that his father had aged since he’d last seen him. There were lots of new creases across his forehead.

Dr. Schonberg acknowledged Adam’s greeting by nodding his head. He did not stand up.

Adam advanced to the desk, looking down into his father’s heavily shadowed eyes. Adam didn’t see any softening there.

“And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?” asked Dr.

Schonberg.

“How is mother?” asked Adam, sensing that his fears had been correct. The meeting was already going poorly.

“Nice of you to ask. Actually, she’s not too good. She had to have shock treatment again. But I don’t want to trouble you with that news. Especially considering the fact that your marrying that girl had a lot to do with her condition.”