‘Not so loud, Don.’
I had raised my voice to emphasise these critical points and people were looking at us—and Gene particularly—with disapproval. A woman stepping off at Penn Station said, ‘Shame on you.’ The woman behind her added, ‘Pig.’ It was useful to have my argument reinforced but Gene attempted to change the subject.
‘Thought any more about fatherhood?’
I had not yet included any baby-related activities in my new white-tile schedule, although they had been the original motivation for creating it. It was possible my mind was responding to an unexpected event by activating primitive defence mechanisms and pretending it did not exist. I needed to do two things: acknowledge the upcoming birth by stating it out loud to others and undertake some actual research.
After installing Gene in his office at Columbia, we had coffee with Professor David Borenstein. Rosie joined us, in her role as my partner, rather than as a medical student. David had been extremely helpful in supporting our visas and relocation. ‘So what’s news with you, Don?’ he asked.
I was about to give David an update on my investigation of genetic predisposition to cirrhosis of the liver in mice, which was nearing completion, when I remembered my earlier decision to acknowledge my impending fatherhood.
‘Rosie’s pregnant,’ I said.
Everyone was silent. I knew immediately that I had made an error, as Rosie kicked me under the table. It was obviously ineffective; the statement could not be retracted.
‘Well,’ said David. ‘Congratulations.’
Rosie smiled. ‘Thanks. It’s not really public yet, so—’
‘Of course. And with my faculty hat on, I can assure you that you’re not the first student to have some disruption to their studies.’
‘I’m not planning to let it disrupt my studies.’ I recognised Rosie’s ‘Don’t fuck with me’ voice. It seemed inadvisable to use it on the Dean.
But David did not detect the tone, or chose to ignore it. ‘I’m not the person to talk to,’ he said. ‘When you’re ready, have a chat to Mandy Rau. You know Mandy? She’s the counsellor. Make sure you tell her you’re covered by Don’s medical plan.’
Rosie was about to speak again, but David raised both hands in a double ‘Stop’ signal and the subject changed to Gene’s program.
David declined a second coffee. ‘Sorry, I have to go, but I need to speak to Don about the cirrhosis research. Walk back with me? You’re welcome to join us, Gene.’
Gene, despite having no interest in my research, joined us.
‘I gather you’ve finished the component of the study that needs a visiting professor,’ said the Dean.
‘There’s still a vast quantity of data to be analysed,’ I said.
‘That’s what I meant—it’s mainly legwork. I thought you might like some assistance.’
‘Not if it means applying for a grant.’ It is generally less time-consuming to do work myself than to get involved in the paperwork required to get help.
‘No, you don’t need to apply for a grant. In this specific instance.’ He laughed and Gene joined in. ‘But I’ve got a post-doc researcher, strong on statistics, on loan to us—it’s a bit of a personal favour to a colleague, but there’s got to be meaningful work. Not least in case they audit the visa.’
‘Take him,’ said Gene.
Gene’s publication list was populated by work performed by such people under his notional supervision. I did not want my name on papers I had not written. But I owed it to David Borenstein to not waste my time on tasks that could be performed by a more junior person who would benefit from the experience.
‘Her name’s Inge,’ said David. ‘She’s Lithuanian.’
Gene left us, and the Dean and I walked for a while without speaking. I presumed he was thinking—a pleasant change from most people who regard a gap in the conversation as a space that requires filling. We were almost at his office when he spoke again.
‘Don, the counsellor is going to suggest Rosie takes time off. That’s sensible. But we don’t want to lose her. We like to keep our students and she’s a good one. The timing’s not great. She’ll probably need to defer the first six months of her major clinical year, then have the baby and come back second semester, or the following year. I’d say take the whole year. It’ll give you time to work out the care arrangements, which will probably involve you.’
I had not thought about this practical issue, and David’s advice seemed sound. ‘Some women take a month or two off and come right back, and arrange to pick up what they’ve missed in the vacation. I think that’s a mistake. Especially for you two.’
‘Why specifically us?’
‘You don’t have local support. If you both had parents or siblings living here—maybe. There’s only so much child care you can contract out. I’d say, defer the whole year. Or the baby will suffer, the study will suffer, she’ll suffer. And let me tell you from bitter experience, you’ll suffer too.’
‘Seems like excellent advice. I’ll tell Rosie.’
‘Don’t tell her it came from me.’
The Dean of Medicine, our sponsor, an experienced parent. Could there be anyone with greater authority to offer advice on balancing medical studies and parenthood? Yet I suspected he was right in recommending I not mention his name. Rosie would instinctively reject the advice of an older male in authority.
My prediction was correct.
‘I’m not taking a year out of the program,’ Rosie said when I presented David’s advice that evening without citing its source. We were having dinner with Gene, our new family member, who was making use of one of the surplus chairs.
‘A year out is nothing in the long term,’ said Gene.
‘Did you take time off when Eugenie was born?’ said Rosie.
‘Claudia did.’
‘Then just equate me to you rather than Claudia. Or is that too big a leap?’
‘So Don’s going to look after the baby?’
Rosie laughed. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, Don has to work. And…’
I was interested to hear what other reasons Rosie might cite for my not being able to look after Bud, but Gene interrupted.
‘So who’s going to look after it?’
Rosie thought for a few moments.
‘I’ll take her—or him—with me.’
I was stunned. ‘You’ll take Bud to Columbia—to the hospitals?’ By the time Bud was born, Rosie would be working with actual patients—people riddled with infectious diseases—in situations where a baby underfoot could cause life-threatening disasters. Her approach seemed impractical and irresponsible.
‘I’m still thinking about it, okay? But it’s time they considered the needs of women with children. Instead of telling us to go away and come back when the baby’s grown up.’ Rosie pushed her plate aside. She had not finished her risotto. ‘I need to do some work.’
Once again, Gene and I were left to talk. I made a mental note to replenish the liquor stocks.
Gene selected the conversation topic before I could mention his marriage.
‘Feeling any better about being a dad?’
The word ‘dad’ sounded odd, applied to me. I thought of my own father. I suspected his role in my life when I was a baby had been minimal. My mother had resigned from her teaching job to manage three children while my father worked at the family hardware store. It was a practical, if stereotypical, allocation of the workload. Given that my father shares some of the personality traits that give me the most trouble, it was probably advantageous to maximise the amount of input from my mother.