Doctors by Erich Segal Page A

flagging a cab for himself.”
    “Spare me the jokes,” Barney snapped. “Just get me to King’s County Hospital as goddamn fast as you can.”
    The corridor was badly lit and smelled of disinfectant. At the far end, Barney could see Inez comforting his weeping mother and could hear Luis bellowing, “
Mierda!
—this was stupidity—nonsense! You should never have let him off!”
    As Barney came closer, he saw the Spaniard berating his younger brother, who was in a state of shock. “I swear, Dr. Castellano,” Warren kept protesting weakly, “I told him it was life and death—”
    Seeing her elder son, Estelle rose and cried out, “Barney, Barney.” And rushed to embrace him.
    The world seemed to stop as he held his grieving mother in his arms, trying to comfort her.
    After a few moments, Estelle murmured, “I want to see him again. Will you come with me, Barney?”
    Her elder son nodded.
    He looked at his brother’s face and sensed the qualms he was feeling. “Warren, stay here with the Castellanos till we get back.”
    Alone with Luis as they both walked to the hospital parking lot, Barney was finally able to ask, “What were you so angry about back there, Dr. Castellano?”
    Punctuating his interjections with profanity, Luis recounted the events of that morning.
    Barney was confused. “How could a doctor just sit on his ass and let my father die?”
    Luis answered through clenched teeth, “The craven bastard was afraid of a lawsuit.”
    “I don’t understand—what kind of lawsuit?”
    “My boy, in this great land many physicians will not come to an emergency like this. Because if the patient dies, the family can later sue for malpractice.”
    “Isn’t it a doctor’s responsibility to help?”
    “Only morally,” Luis answered with quiet anger. “Not legally. No law says that a physician absolutely has to come.”
    “Do you think it would have made a difference?” Barney asked.
    Luis shrugged. “We’ll never know. Your father’s cause of death was myocardial infarction. Time makes a crucial difference when you are dealing with ventricular fibrillations. Freeman could have injected lignocaine—and at least started trying to resuscitate.”
    Barney exploded with rage. “I’ll kill that guy—I’ll go and kill him with my bare hands.”
    Luis grasped Barney’s shoulder tightly. “
Calma, cálmate, hijo.
There is no point. You must accept that he is dead. You must be calm for your mother’s sake. Remember you are the man in the family now.”
    It was almost midnight when they got home. Laura had arrived from Boston moments earlier.
    “I’ve—uh—made some coffee and sandwiches,” she said diffidently. “I mean, if anybody’s hungry.…”
    The Livingstons’ sadness was palpable and yet she could see that Barney was suffering more than grief.
    Luis and Inez took Estelle upstairs: he to give her a sedative and she to help her get ready for bed. Warren took a sandwich and an apple and headed for his room—to be alone with his sorrow.
    That left only Barney and Laura in the kitchen.
    “Hey, Barn, talk to me,” she said softly. “I know you’re hurting and it’ll help to talk.”
    He lowered his head.
    She went over, knelt down, and touched his arm. “Say something, Barn.”
    Finally, he gave voice to his obsession. “I can’t believe it—a
doctor
let him die.”
    “Barney, that’s not important now.”
    “Well, then, what the hell is?”
    She put her hand on his cheek and he grasped it like a drowning man would seize a lifeline.
    And allowed himself to cry.
    *    *    *
    In the days that followed, Estelle Livingston was inconsolable. Barney stayed at home, only venturing to Manhattan for a class or to work a night shift at The Versailles.
    Harold’s funeral, though planned for only the closest of relations, was augmented by more than a dozen teachers from Erasmus Hall who remembered him with affection, and even by a few former students who had read of his death in