Montaro Caine A Novel - By Sidney Poitier Page 0,48
working for the clinic as a receptionist, office manager, and general all-around helper for approximately six years. She had been drowning in a sea of paperwork, too preoccupied to notice the entrance of the young black woman until she heard someone clearing her throat.
When Cordiss looked up she saw the attractive, soft-spoken Whitney standing before her, a sheepish smile on her face, as if she had been trying to keep a secret but was not doing a very good job of it.
“Whitney Carson. Well, what a nice surprise,” Cordiss blurted out. “Sorry, my mind was off somewhere in Medicare land.”
“Hi, Cordiss, how are you?”
“Fine. But never mind me, how the hell are you? Where’ve you been?”
“Around.”
Cordiss searched her appointment book, looking unsuccessfully for Whitney’s name. “I don’t see you down in our book,” she said.
“I just wanted to stop by and say hi to everybody,” said Whitney.
“But why haven’t we seen you for such a long time?” Cordiss pretended to scold Whitney, but she truly did want to know the answer to her question.
“What can I tell you?” Whitney said. “Things get hectic sometimes. I’m sure you know how it is.”
“From that grin you’re wearing, it couldn’t have been all bad.”
“As a matter of fact, it’s not.”
“Aha! Tell me, tell me.”
“In a minute. Let me just peek in and say hello to Dr. M. first,” said Whitney, turning toward the doctor’s office.
“Oh, honey, he’s not in.”
“Aw, shoot. What about Anna?”
“No, she’s not here either. The doc’s on vacation and Anna’s under the weather. Her arthritis is pulling her down.”
“Oh damn,” Whitney said.
“Yeah. You’re overdue for a checkup, and the doctor’s gonna be pissed when he hears he missed you. Let me see”—she reached for her book—“you better come in next week. He’ll be back then,” she murmured as she leafed through the pages.
“I can’t next week. Won’t be able to for a while,” said Whitney.
“What do you mean? What about your checkup? I told you you’re due for one.”
“Some other time.”
“You want to get me fired, right?”
Whitney laughed. But Cordiss’s flip remark was heartfelt; the doctor always took very special care of Whitney, and Cordiss sensed that part of her job description involved according the same special treatment to this patient.
“You know what?” said Cordiss. “Since you’re here, I think we should let Dr. Chambers examine you. Let me see if I can get his nurse to slip you in before he goes to lunch.” She pointed Whitney down the long corridor. “Last door on the right. I’ll be there in a jiffy with your chart.”
A half-hour later, Whitney reentered the reception area from Dr. Chambers’s office.
“So, you were saying?” Cordiss asked, picking up the conversation where they had left off.
“Well, you remember that I graduated CUNY about four years ago?”
“Yes. Dr. Mozelle and Anna went to the graduation,” Cordiss said. She had found it unusual that both the doctor and Anna seemed to act as if Whitney was their own daughter, even though she knew that Whitney was not related to either of them.
“Right. Well, those first years out of school were a complete mess.”
“Happens to most of us,” said Cordiss.
“Yeah, I moved out on my own—and that was a trip. It’s a whole different world out there when you’re responsible for yourself, and that took some getting used to. My uncle didn’t want me to leave Brooklyn, but I had to earn my own living and all that. Then, because I was lonely or scared, I spent some time with my cousins down in Cleveland. Eight months. Then back to Brooklyn. Aaaa-nd,” she stopped and another sheepish grin alit on her face.
“And what?” Cordiss prompted with an expectant smile.
“I met a very special guy,” Whitney said.
“Now it’s getting good.” Cordiss moved closer.
“Well, it gets a lot better,” Whitney teased.
“Uh-oh.” Cordiss moved even closer.
“We got married,” Whitney whispered.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, really.”
“Oh. Wow.” Cordiss sighed, then recovered. “Congratulations! That’s great news.” She sprung up from her chair, then stepped around her desk to hug Whitney. As they embraced, Cordiss laughed and said, “So that’s what you’ve been up to, you lucky girl.” She kissed Whitney on the cheek, then led her to a couch in the center of the empty waiting room, where they both sat down. “So, Mrs.…?” prompted Cordiss.