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eyebrow, I let my shoulders rise and fall.
    “I've
been doing some research into the treatment of heart-murmurs in premature
infants,” I disclosed to him. “Did you know that you can now repair a murmur
microscopically, without incision? Twenty years ago, the scars these surgeries
left behind could stretch and cover entire side of someone's torso. Now there's
not even the slightest mark.”
    Dr.
Weisman smiled tightly.
    “You
aren't in Pediatrics.”
    “I've
been thinking of publishing an article. One doesn't need to be in
Pediatrics to muse about Cardiology-related breakthroughs in Pediatrics.”
    I stood,
picked up my plate, and half-watched as Dr. Weisman removed his cell phone
discreetly from his coat pocket, looked at it, then immediately slid it back in
place.
    “The
wife?” I asked.
    We both
knew the answer. Weisman smiled; the perfect bastard.
    “An old
student,” he explained. “We're meeting for coffee this afternoon. She's
completing her residency at Moffit. She'd like my insight on a few things. You
know how it is.”
    “I
guess.”
    As he
walked away, I thought about Mia, and immediately remembered that I had
scheduled her for an appointment at the office tomorrow at 2:30 in the
afternoon.
    On cue,
my insides started to ache. Once again, I felt disarmed.
    Before
Dr. Weisman could escape, I called out to him.
    “Nick,” I
said.
    “What's
up, Al?” he asked.
    I smiled
bleakly. In the back of my head, that distant oath still rung.
    I will remember that I remain a member of society, with
special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body
as well as the infirm.
    If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art,
respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter.
    ...do no harm.
    “What time is th e benefit?” I asked. “I'll iron a
shirt.”

 
 
    The last
time I went to any sort of banquet was when I met my ex, who until this point,
I realize, has remained nameless. Her name, Caitlin, means pure – though she
was anything but . Not that I'm trying to make any kind of judgments
here, but as someone who spent the better part of five years with her, I have
the authority to make an observation or two.
    Anyway,
it was a benefit to raise money for a group of aspiring doctors to take their
profession overseas, serving the underprivileged in places like the Middle
East, or Haiti. And I was three Guinesses in when Caitlin had approached me –
frosted hair, wide grin, slant mouth that was not so much charming as naturally
asymmetrical – but that's alright.
    “Hi,”
she'd said. “I'm Cait.”
    “Alex,” I
said. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
    She
extended a hand, and we shook as if making a deal. And that was all there was
to it, really. I have no particular thoughts to add to the story, aside from
the fact that she got on well with my folks when they came for the occasional
visit, and that the sex was good, and that she was – in the traditional sense,
I guess – very beautiful.
    But the
thing of it is, I was a lonely man. And when you're lonely, and what you have
doesn't quite fit the needs, quench the palate, or so on...you keep searching
even after something falls into your lap. Or you simply check out.
    And
Caitlin, with her perfectly-manicured nails and white blouses and tight skirts;
her penchant for letting my credits cards burn hot in her wallet – she wasn't
particularly loving, but neither was I. We fought a lot. She liked to break
dishes, and I liked to slam doors. And when it was over, and she packed up her
things, I sat out on the cement deck, eyes caught on a sliver of moon, and
contemplated why I had even bothered dedicating any amount of time to something
that, when ended, I didn't even feel an ounce of loss for.
    This
night wasn't much different, except I wore a nicer suit, and put on a different
cologne, and got slightly more drunk than I intended to off a few too many
Manhattans. I hung around, wandering