The Lobotomist's Wife(78)

December 22, 1947

Dr. Apter,

We cannot thank you enough for all that you have done to save my father. Before we met you, we thought he was a lost cause. Mother would spend her days crying, counting our pennies to see whether we would be able to eat that week, with Father incapable of working. You saved us all! Father is well again. He was able to return to work—yes, on the factory line instead of at the office—but at least we have enough money now to eat and buy books and clothes for school. And presents! You are a miracle, not just for him but for us all. God bless you and merry Christmas!

Sincerely,

The Wildman family

Ruth’s eyes filled with tears again as she looked to Edward. “This—this is why he did this. Why we did this. He was helping people! You both were. So, what happened? How—when did it all go so wrong?”

“Medicine is about progress. About trial and error and a willingness to always examine what you do with a critical eye. In the beginning, Robert’s quest was to find the best way. The optimal treatment. He was relentless. It was what we both loved about him. But, once he believed he had found it, something that he could control—claim as his own—he lost perspective.”

“I should have paid more attention. The things he was doing in this office, and on the road. It is unconscionable. I had to stop it. To stop him.”

“Stop me how, exactly?”

Ruth gasped, dropping the letter as she and Edward turned to see Robert staggering into the room. She moved quickly to Edward’s side and, holding tight to his arm, began backing slowly toward the door. She was no longer certain what Robert was capable of. How far he would go.

“With him?” Robert motioned dismissively to Edward. “Eddie here, he can’t do anything either. He gave up our crusade, retreated to his ivory tower. Took the coward’s route.” Robert teetered on his feet a bit, still unsteady from the blow. Serves him right. Ruth was suddenly emboldened.

“Enough, Robert. Edward is not a coward! He was just willing to acknowledge the limitations of your work and move on. How can you not see that?” She stood a little taller, shored up with Edward by her side as she inched closer to their escape.

“Trying to run away?” He laughed. “You act as if I am some sort of criminal. Honestly, Ruth. You have become just as blind as he is. Distorting the truth by focusing on the bad outcomes. What about those?” He pointed to the boxes of letters. “How can you argue with those?”

“There is nothing to argue with. You did wonderful things for many people.”

“Yet still you question me?”

“Robert, you are not hearing me!” She was startled to hear herself yelling. “I don’t question what you did. I am questioning what you kept doing after it was clearly not working. What you are still doing now! Lobotomy is done. How can you not see that?”

“You continue to say that, yet I have a whole country begging for my services.”

Ruth looked at Robert. She didn’t need to argue with him anymore. She had already taken away everything that mattered to him. The room became claustrophobically quiet. All at once, she was filled with pity, no longer afraid. She took a step in his direction.

“Not anymore. It’s over,” she said. He propped himself up on the back of his chair, still groggy, and looked blankly at her as she continued. “I told Midwestern Regional all about Sam Orenbluth. Mr. Warren has likely already filed a complaint with the medical review board. I’ve called all the hospitals in California. They won’t have you either. Robert, you’ve become a danger to society. After what you attempted today, I could have you arrested. But I won’t. Because I have made sure that you can never do this again.”

Edward looked to her, confused but supportive.

Robert stood and went to his files. He began to pull out the contents and stack them on the ground, opening and slamming drawer after drawer in a frenzy. “I might have expected this from him”—he pointed at Edward, his finger shaking with ire—“but you? Doesn’t any of this mean anything to you?” He shook a file in her direction. “All that I did for all these people? I saved them!”

“Robert,” she said coldly, “put the files down. It is time for you to go.”

“I will go when I am good and ready. These are mine. My life’s work. Do you think I am going to hang my head like a dog and walk out of here? You’re not just a bitch, you’re a fool.”

Ruth lunged at her husband and smacked him across the face with all her strength. He stumbled, stunned, and fell backward. She grabbed the file from his hand.

“Get out. Now!” she commanded. Edward moved to her side.

Robert’s jaw began to quiver and then went slack. Ruth suddenly noticed the hang of his jowls. He was getting old. His shoulders were slumped down, instead of drawn back in their usual boastful rigidity. He was unshaven, his hair a mess, and his skin had an unpleasant waxy pallor. He was broken. She had broken him. His legs began to buckle, and he slid along the wall to sit on the floor. Ruth felt as if a specter had appeared and, all at once, siphoned every last bit of bravado, of fight, of life from her husband.

“Goodbye, Robert,” she said. The pain of seeing him like this was overshadowed by all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

He hung his head in defeat. “At least let me take my letters,” Robert pleaded as he crumpled before them.