“Unfortunately, not just yet,” said Shelly. “Adam feels he’d like to learn a bit about the business before committing to managerial training.”

“I see,” said Dr. Nachman. “From what Bill’s told me you’d be a real asset to our organization. Our research is moving ahead faster than we had anticipated. It would be a fantastic opportunity for you. You have no idea.”

“What area does the research involve?” asked Adam.

“Psychotropic drugs and fetology,” said Dr. Nachman.

There was a pause. Adam looked from one man to the other. They were both staring at him. “That’s very interesting,” he said self-consciously.

“At any rate,” said Dr. Nachman, “welcome to Arolen Pharmaceuticals.” The researcher stuck out his hand, and Adam shook it.

On the bus ride back to the city Adam felt some misgivings. He remembered Dr. Markowitz’s statement about deserting to the enemy. The idea that a company could make so much money selling drugs to people who were ill seemed contrary to all his ideals. He realized that doctors did essentially the same thing. But there was something else that bothered Adam about Arolen, something he couldn’t quite define. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that they had done a “complete report” on him.

In any case, he hadn’t made a lifetime commitment and for the moment he needed the money. If he and Jennifer saved carefully, there was no reason he couldn’t be back in medical school in eighteen months.

As the bus entered the Lincoln Tunnel, Adam pulled out his worn wallet and surreptitiously glanced into it. There they were, ten crisp hundred-dollar bills nestled against the half-dozen ragged singles. Adam had never seen so much money in cash. Bill had insisted Adam take an advance, pointing out he might need some new clothes. He wouldn’t be wearing whites to work.

But a thousand dollars! Adam still could not believe it.

Struggling with two Bloomingdale’s bags containing shirts and a jacket for himself and a gift-wrapped new dress for Jennifer, Adam took the Lexington Avenue subway to Fourteenth Street and walked to the apartment.

As soon as he opened the door he heard Jennifer on the phone, talking to her mother. He glanced into the kitchen and saw no preparations for dinner. In fact, he saw no signs of groceries, either. Promising himself that he was not going to get upset that evening, he walked into the bedroom where Jennifer was just saying good-bye. She hung up the phone and turned to face him.

She looked terrible. Her cheeks were streaked and her eyes were red from crying. Her hair was half in a bun, half out, hanging limply over her shoulders.

“Don’t tell me,” said Adam. “Your parents are moving to Bangladesh.”

Large tears welled up in her eyes, and Adam wished he’d kept his big mouth shut. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

“I tried to call you earlier,” said Adam. “The phone was busy.”

Jennifer let her hands drop into her lap. “Why were you calling?”

“Just to tell you I was going to be a little late. I got you a little surprise. Interested?”

Jennifer nodded. Adam went out and got the package. She opened it slowly. Finally, after carefully refolding the paper, she opened the box.

Expecting delight, Adam was upset when Jennifer just sat holding the pretty Belle France chemise, the tears continuing to roll down her cheeks.

“Don’t you like it?” he asked.

Jennifer wiped her eyes and pulled the dress out of the box, stood up and held it under her chin so she could see herself in the mirror. “It’s gorgeous,” she said. “But where did you get the money?”

Adam shrugged his shoulders. “If you don’t like it, I’m sure you can exchange it.”

Jennifer walked back to Adam and, with the dress still pressed against her chest, kissed him on the mouth. “I love it. It’s one of the prettiest dresses I’ve ever seen.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because I had such an awful day. Did you ever meet Cheryl, Jason’s secretary?”

“I don’t think so,” said Adam.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Jennifer. “But she was only nineteen or twenty. Today I went with her to a place called the Julian Clinic…”

“I know of it,” interrupted Adam. “A huge, new HMO organization, kind of like the Mayo Clinic. Some of the students that have gone there for various rotations say it’s a bit weird.”

“It wasn’t the place that was strange,” said Jennifer. “It was what happened. Cheryl went there to have an abortion.”

Adam cringed. “Wonderful!” he said with sarcasm. “You went with someone to have an abortion? Jennifer, are you crazy?”

“She didn’t have anybody else,” explained Jennifer. “I couldn’t let her go alone.”

“Of course not,” said Adam. “But if you don’t mind my asking, where was her family or her boyfriend? Why did it have to be you, Jennifer?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Jennifer. “But I went. And then she died!”

“Died!” repeated Adam with horror. “What did she die of? Was she sick?”

Jennifer shook her head. “She was apparently quite healthy. They were just about to do the abortion when Cheryl realized her own doctor wasn’t present, and she refused to go ahead with the procedure. She expected a Dr. Foley, but the man is dead. He’d committed suicide. So another doctor was going to do the abortion.”

“In some group practices the patient can’t choose which physician they see,” said Adam.

“That may be true,” said Jennifer, “but it seems to me that the patient should be informed in advance if the doctor she expected is not going to be there.”

“I can’t argue with that,” said Adam. “But if she refused the abortion, how did she die?”

“They said it was diffuse intravascular coagulation. She died right in front of me. One minute she was all right, and the next minute she fell on the floor bleeding. It was awful.” Jennifer pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit on it. Her eyes filled with tears.

Adam put both arms around her and patted her back.

Neither spoke for a few moments. Adam let Jennifer calm down while he puzzled over the story. How could Cheryl have died of DIC if the abortion had been canceled? He guessed that it had been a saline induced abortion and the solution had already been started. He was tempted to ask more but thought it best if Jennifer weren’t made to dwell on the experience.

But Jennifer was unwilling to drop the subject. “What is diffuse intravascular coagulation?” she asked. “Is it common?”

“No, no,” assured Adam. “It’s very rare. I don’t know too much about it. I don’t think anybody does. Something starts the clotting process inside the blood vessels. I think it’s associated with extensive trauma or bad burns and occasionally with abortions. But in any case, it is rare.”

“It doesn’t happen to people who are just pregnant?” asked Jennifer.

“Absolutely not!” said Adam. “Now I don’t want you to get medical-schoolitis and think you’re going to come down with every exotic disease you hear about. Right now I want you to take a shower, try on this new dress, and then we’ll eat.”

“I didn’t get groceries,” said Jennifer.

“I noticed,” said Adam. “No matter. I have a wallet full of money and I’m dying to tell you how I got it. You take a shower and we’ll go out to a fancy restaurant and celebrate, OK?”

Jennifer got a tissue and blew her nose. “OK,” she managed. “I hope I’ll be good company. I’m so upset.”

While Jennifer showered, Adam stepped into the living room and looked up DIC. As he expected, the condition was not related to pregnancy. Putting the medical text back on the shelf, he noticed the PDR. His curiosity piqued, he slipped the volume out of the bookcase and turned to the section for Arolen Pharmaceuticals. Except for an extensive list of generic antibiotics, Arolen did not have many exclusive products in the patented prescription drug category. There were several tranquilizers that Adam did not recognize as well as some anti-nausea preparations, including one for pregnant women, called pregdolen.