elective.”
“Where?”
“Miami, Florida.”
“You weren’t going to tell me?”
“Of course I was. I planned on telling you tomorrow night.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Sunday.”
Janet’s eyes angrily roamed the room. Absently, her fingers drummed on the countertop. She questioned to herself what she’d done to deserve this kind of treatment. Looking back at Sean, she said: “You were going to wait until the night before to tell me this?”
“It just came up this week. It wasn’t certain until two days ago. I wanted to wait until the right moment.”
“Considering our relationship, the right moment would have been when it came up. Miami? Why now?”
“Remember that patient I told you about? The woman with medulloblastoma.”
“Helen Cabot? The attractive coed?”
“That’s the one,” Sean said. “When I read about her tumor, I discovered…” He paused.
“Discovered what?” Janet demanded.
“It wasn’t from my reading,” Sean corrected himself. “One of her attendings said that her father had heard about a treatment that is apparently achieving one hundred percent remission. The protocol is only administered at the Forbes Cancer Center in Miami.”
“So you decided to go. Just like that.”
“Not exactly,” Sean said. “I spoke to Dr. Walsh, who happens to know the director, a man named Randolph Mason. A number of years ago they worked together at the NIH. Dr. Walsh told him about me, and got me invited.”
“This is the wrong time for this,” Janet said. “You know I’ve been disturbed about us.”
Sean shrugged. “I’m sorry. But I have the time now, and this is potentially consequential. My research involves the molecular basis of cancer. If they are experiencing a hundred-percent remission rate for a specific tumor, it has to have implications for all cancers.”
Janet felt weak. Her emotions were raw. Sean’s leaving for two months at this time seemed the worst possible situation as far as her psyche was concerned. Yet his reasons were noble. He wasn’t going to the Club Med or something. Howcould she get angry or try to deny him. She felt totally confused.
“There is the telephone,” Sean said. “I’m not going to the moon. It’s only a couple of months. And you understand that this could be very important.”
“More important than our relationship?” Janet blurted out. “More important than the rest of our lives.” Almost immediately Janet felt foolish. Such comments sounded so juvenile.
“Now let’s not get into an argument comparing apples and oranges,” Sean said.
Janet sighed deeply, fighting back tears. “Let’s talk about it later,” she managed. “This is hardly the place for an emotional confrontation.”
“I can’t tonight,” Sean said. “It’s Friday and…”
“And you have to go to that stupid bar,” Janet snapped. She saw some of the other people in the room turn to stare at them.
“Janet, keep your voice down!” Sean said. “We’ll get together Saturday night as planned. We can talk then.”
“Knowing how upset this leaving would make me, I cannot understand why you can’t give up drinking with your trashy buddies for one night.”
“Careful, Janet,” Sean warned. “My friends are important to me. They’re my roots.”
For a moment their eyes met with palpable hostility. Then Janet turned and strode from the lab.
Self-consciously, Sean glanced at his colleagues. Most avoided his gaze. Dr. Clifford Walsh did not. He was a big man with a full beard. He wore a long white coat with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
“Turmoil does not help creativity,” he said. “I hope your leaving on this sour note does not influence your behavior down in Miami.”
“Not a chance,” Sean said.
“Remember, I’ve gone out on a limb for you,” Dr. Walsh said. “I assured Dr. Mason you’d be an asset to his organization. He liked the idea that you’ve had a lot of experience with monoclonal