Rogue

Maxine worked on another article in her spare time late at night. And two of her patients were hospitalized over the weekend, one for an overdose, and the other for observation as a suicide risk.

She had six kids to visit in two different hospitals on Monday, and a slew of patients in her office. And when she got home, Zelda was sick as a dog with flu and a fever. And she was worse on Tuesday morning. Maxine told her not to worry about it and to stay in bed. Daphne could bring Sam home from school, since Jack had soccer practice and was being carpooled. They could manage. And they would have, if the gods hadn't conspired against her.

Maxine had patients back to back all day. Tuesday was her day to see new patients, she had histories to take, and first meetings with adolescents were crucial, so she needed her wits about her. At noon, Sam's school called her. He had thrown up twice in the last half hour, and Zelda was in no condition to go and get him. Maxine had to do it. She had a twenty-minute break between patients, got a cab, and picked Sam up at school. He looked miserable, and threw up all over her in the taxi. The driver was furious, she had nothing to clean it up with, and she tipped him twenty dollars. She got Sam upstairs, tucked him into bed, and asked Zelda to keep an eye on him, in spite of her fever. It was like leaving the wounded with the maimed, but she had no other choice. She showered, changed, and had to get back to the office. She was ten minutes late for her next patient, which made a poor impression, and the girl's mother complained about it. Maxine explained that her son was sick and apologized profusely.

Two hours later, Zelda called to say Sam had thrown up again, and had a hundred and one fever. Maxine asked her to give him Tylenol, reminded her to take some herself, and at five o'clock, it started raining. Her last patient came in late, and admitted that she'd smoked weed that afternoon, so Maxine stayed past their hour to discuss it with her. The girl had been going to Marijuana Anonymous, and this was a major slip for her, and a particularly bad idea since she was on medication.

Maxine's patient had just left when Jack called her in a panic. He had missed his car pool, and was standing alone on a street corner, in a bad area on the Upper West Side. She wanted to kill the mother who had left him. Her car was downtown in a garage, and it took her half an hour to find a taxi. It was after six when she finally got to Jack, standing shivering in the rain at a bus stop, and it was a quarter to seven when they got home in heavy traffic. They were both wet and cold, and Sam looked awful, and was crying when Maxine walked into her bedroom. She felt like she was running a hospital, as she checked on him and Zelda, and told Jack to take a hot shower. He was soaked to the skin and sneezing.

“How are you? Not sick, I hope,” she said to Daphne as she passed her on the way to Sam's room.

“I'm okay, but I have a science paper due tomorrow. Can you help me?” Maxine knew the question really was if her mother would do it for her.

“Why didn't we work on it this weekend?” Maxine asked her, looking stressed.

“I forgot I had it.”

“A likely story,” Maxine muttered, as the intercom rang in the front hall. It was the doorman; he said that a Dr. Charles West was downstairs for her, and Maxine's eyes flew open wide with a look of panic. Charles! She had forgotten. It was Tuesday. They had a date for dinner, and he was supposed to come by at seven. He was right on time, half her household was sick, and Daphne had a science paper due that Maxine was supposed to help her with. She was going to have to cancel, but it was incredibly rude at the last minute. She couldn't imagine going out, and she was wearing the clothes she'd worn to the office. Zelda was too sick for her to leave the kids with her. It was a nightmare. She looked stricken when she opened the door to Charles three minutes later, and he looked startled to see her in slacks and a sweater, with wet hair and no makeup.

“I'm so sorry,” she said the moment she saw him, “I've had the day from hell. One of my kids is sick, the other one missed his ride home from soccer practice, my daughter has a science paper due tomorrow and our nanny has a fever. I'm going nuts, please come in.” He came through the front door, just as Sam wandered into the hall, looking green. “This is my son Sam,” she explained just as Sam threw up again, and Charles stared at him in amazement.

“Oh my,” he said, and looked at Maxine with alarm.

“I'm sorry. Why don't you go in the living room and sit down? I'll be in, in a minute.” She rushed Sam into her bathroom, where he threw up again, and then she ran back to the hallway and cleaned up with a towel. She got Sam into her bed, as Daphne walked into the room.

“When can we do my paper?”

“Oh my God,” Maxine said, ready to cry or have hysterics. “Never mind your paper. There's a man in the living room. Go talk to him. His name is Dr. West.”