Tears overflowed Cassi’s eyes and ran down her cheeks.

As she had feared, a friendly presence destroyed her self-control. She finally let go and, dropping her face into her hands, wept openly.

“Jerry Donovan wasn’t that bad,” said Joan, hoping a little humor might help. “Besides, I didn’t give in. I’m still a virgin.”

Cassi’s body shook with sobs. Joan came around the end of the desk and put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. For a few moments she said nothing. As a psychiatry resident, she didn’t have the usual negative reaction to tears that lay people did. From the strength of Cassi’s emotion Joan guessed that she needed the outlet.

“I’m sorry,” said Cassi, reaching for the tissues just as Maureen had. “I didn’t want to do this.”

“Sounds like you needed it. Do you want to talk?”

Cassi took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It all seems so hopeless.” As soon as she said the word, Cassi remembered Maureen had said the same thing.

“What’s so hopeless?” asked Joan.

“Everything,” said Cassi.

“Give me an example,” said Joan, challengingly.

Cassi pulled her hands away from her tear-streaked face.

“I went to the ophthalmologist today. He wants to operate, but I don’t know if I should.”

“What does your husband say?” asked Joan.

“That’s part of the problem.” As soon as Cassi spoke, she regretted it. She knew Joan, being both sensitive and clever, would piece together the whole picture, and, in the back of her mind, Cassi could hear Thomas telling her not to discuss her medical problems with anyone.

Joan took her hand from Cassi’s shoulder. “I think you need someone to talk to. As the official department consult, I’m at your service. Besides, anyone can afford my fee.”

Cassi managed a weak smile. Intuitively she knew she could trust Joan. She needed someone’s insight, and God knows she wasn’t doing too well on her own.

“I don’t know if you have any idea of Thomas’s schedule,” began Cassi. “He works harder than anyone I know. You’d think he was an intern. Last night he stayed in the hospital. Tonight he’ll stay in the hospital. He doesn’t have a lot of extra time…”

“Cassi,” said Joan politely. “I don’t like to interrupt but why not save the excuses. Have you spoken to your husband about this operation?”

Cassi sighed. “I tried to bring it up a few hours ago, but it was the wrong time and place.”

“Listen,” said Joan. “I rarely make judgments. But when it comes to talking about eye surgery with your husband, there is no wrong time or place.”

Cassi digested this comment. She wasn’t sure if she agreed or not.

“What did he say?” asked Joan.

“He said he wasn’t an eye surgeon.”

“Ah, he wants to delegate his responsibility.”

“No,” said Cassi emphatically. “Thomas made sure I went to the best ophthalmologist.”

“It still seems a rather callous reaction.”

Cassi looked down at her hands, thinking Joan was too clever. She had the distinct impression that Joan could take this conversation further than Cassi would like.

“Cassi,” asked Joan, “is everything all right between you and Thomas?”

Cassi could feel the tears filling her eyes again. She tried to stop them but was only partially successful.

“That’s one way of answering,” said Joan empathetically. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Cassi bit her trembling lower lip. “If something happened to my relationship with Thomas,” she said, “I don’t know if I could go on. I think my life would fall apart. I need him desperately.”

“I can sense you feel that way. I also think that you don’t really want to talk about the problem. Am I right?”

Cassi nodded. She felt torn between her fear of Thomas and her guilt at rejecting Joan’s offer of friendship.

“Okay,” said Joan, “but before I go, I think some advice is in order. Maybe it’s presumptuous for me to say this, and it’s certainly not professional, but I have a feeling that you should try to lessen your dependency on Thomas. Somehow I don’t think you give yourself the credit you deserve. And that kind of dependence can really hurt a relationship in the long run. Well, enough unsolicited advice.”

Joan opened Cassi’s door, then stopped. “Did you say that Thomas was going to spend tonight in the hospital?”

“I think he has emergency surgery,” said Cassi, preoccupied with the concept of dependency. “When he does, he usually sleeps over rather than suffer the forty-minute commute.”

“Fine!” said Joan. “Why don’t you come home with me tonight? I’ve got a sofa bed in the living room and a fully stocked refrigerator.”

“And by midnight you’d know all my secrets,” said Cassi, only half in jest.

“I’d be on my honor not to probe,” said Joan.

“Anyway, I can’t,” said Cassi. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s always the chance Thomas might not have surgery and, in that case, he could come home. Under the circumstances I want to be there. Maybe we’ll talk.”

Joan smiled sympathetically. “You do have it bad. Well, if you change your mind, give me a call. I’ll be in the hospital for another hour or so.” She opened the door again and this time really left.

Cassi stared at the Monet trying to decide if it was safe for her to drive. It was reassuring to note that her vision had significantly improved; the drops were finally wearing off.

Thomas felt his hands tremble as he opened his office door and switched on the light. The clock on Doris’s desk indicated that it was almost six-thirty. It was already dark outside, making it hard to remember summer nights when it stayed light to nine-thirty. Closing the door, he held out his arm. It scared him to see his normally steady hand shake so violently. How could Cassi keep pressuring him when he was already so tense?

Approaching his desk, he opened the second drawer and pulled out one of his small plastic bottles. The combination of the child-proof top and his agitation made opening the package impossible. He had to restrain himself from dashing the thing on the floor and stomping on it with his heel. Finally he managed to extract one of the yellow tablets. He placed it on his tongue despite its bitter taste and walked into the small washroom, which still reeked of Doris’s perfume.

Forsaking a cup, Thomas bent and drank directly from the faucet. He went back to his office and sat at his desk. His anxiety seemed to be increasing. Wrenching open the second drawer again, he fumbled for the same plastic bottle. This time he was unsuccessful with the top. Slamming the bottle down on the desk top only succeeded in denting the wood surface and bruising his thumb.

Closing his eyes, Thomas told himself that he had to stay in control. When he opened his eyes, he remembered that in order to open the bottle he had to line up the two arrows.

But he did not take another pill. Instead his mind conjured up the image of Laura Campbell. There was no reason for him to be alone. “I wish there was something I could do for you,” she had said. “Anything!” Thomas knew he had her phone number in her father’s folder, ostensibly for emergency use. But wasn’t this an emergency? Thomas smiled. Besides, there were many ways to camouflage his intentions if he’d misread her signals.

Thomas found Mr. Campbell’s folder and quickly dialed Laura’s number, hoping the woman was at home. She answered on the second ring.

“This is Dr. Kingsley. Sorry to bother you.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Laura worriedly.

“No, no,” assured Thomas. “Your father is doing fine. I’m terribly sorry about his jaundice. It is one of those unfortunate complications. I wish we could have anticipated it, but it should clear soon. Anyway the reason I’m calling is that your father will undoubtedly be discharged soon, and I thought, perhaps, you’d like to discuss the case.”

“Absolutely,” said Laura. “Just tell me when.”