Drake Restrained(13)

While in the locker room, I saw Ethan McDermott, Justice of the Supreme Court of New York, and my father's oldest and best friend from Vietnam. After I finished tying my shoes, I went to where he sat with another man.

"Judge McDermott," I said, wanting to show him deference, despite being very familiar with him. "How are you?"

He turned to me and a wide smile broke out on his face.

"Well, young man, how are you?" He stood and held out a hand and we shook. He was shorter than me, greying with heavy jowls and bright blue eyes. He turned to the other man, who looked to be in his fifties as well. "George, this is Drake Morgan – Doctor Morgan, the son of my old buddy in the Marines. His dad and I were in 'Nam together at the tail end of the war. Drake, this is Justice George Smart, one of my colleagues."

A round of handshakes took place and then Ethan turned to me, eyeing me carefully.

"What have you been up to since I last saw you? Been keeping busy with surgery? Teaching any classes?"

I nodded. "Robotic surgery," I said. "I'm keeping out of trouble. How's everything with you? Your family doing well, I hope?"

"Just fine. Elaine is planning our vacation over Thanksgiving. I'm busy with campaign business, as you can imagine."

"Where are you going over Thanksgiving? I'm presenting a paper in the Bahamas at a convention."

"Elaine wants something tropical."

"The Bahamas are great. Keep it in mind. And how's Heath?"

Ethan's only son, Heath was a lawyer like his father, but specialized in corporate law. Rather quiet instead of outgoing like Ethan, but obviously on the same career path. "Heath's doing well. Been busy in Haiti on and off. Reconstruction work. That sort of thing."

"How's Katherine?" I said lightly. Katherine was the true apple of Ethan's eye. He always spoke about her with real fondness, but I still hadn't met her. She never attended any of her father's social functions or fundraisers.

Ethan had been adamant about internet security and refused to post pictures of his family online. Even though I had searched for info on Katherine, there was none to be had. Her Facebook page was friends only. I had the feeling she was still too fragile and he was protecting her from public scrutiny. There were no pictures of her online except when she was a small child in the obituary for her mother.

"She's doing well. Very well, in fact. Still working on her Masters."

"I read her work on Mangaize you sent me," I said, remembering the somber articles on Africa she wrote. "Really got me in the gut. Is she feeling better?"

Katherine had volunteered in the camps in West Africa and had been traumatized by her stay there. Her articles were published in a student-run magazine and she had won the Columbia Journalism prize for them. She'd also had a breakdown.

Ethan had spoken about her to me because of my interest in psychology and because I was a physician. I knew her history and had offered advice to him on how to handle his beloved daughter's emotional scars. Not only had her mother died the year before, but Katherine had gone to Africa during the worst days of the famine. It proved to be too soon after her mother’s death and she hadn’t really grieved fully. The two events combined led to her breakdown.

Ethan nodded, his face solemn. "She's pretty much recovered, but still laying low. Got another year of work before she's finished her degree."

I nodded. "Glad to hear she's doing better."

"Me as well," Ethan said and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Listen, I'm hosting a fundraiser for Doctors Without Borders on Friday night. You're welcome to come. I know your father's foundation did a lot with them and I'm sure you wouldn't mind forking over some of your dad's hard earned cash for a good cause."

"I'd be honored."

"Good. 6:30 until 8:00." He glanced at George. "Well, I guess I better get a move on. See you on Friday. You know the address."

"I do. See you then."

I left Ethan and went to the weight room for my workout.



That night, I tossed and turned in my bed, unable to get comfortable despite being exhausted. The discussion with Lara had raised all kinds of uncomfortable memories.

Her comment about why I needed dominance didn’t help me fall asleep either. My mother was a sore spot in my life – a bad memory from my childhood, which had always been difficult, despite the wealth and privilege. I didn’t remember any happy period when she lived with us, for she was never able to recover from the death of my brother Liam. She laid on the couch in her pajamas, watching soap operas all day or staring out the window at our back garden, her face pale, her hair a mess, the house a mess around her. My father was too busy with his career to notice, or too self-absorbed to intervene. In hindsight, it was clear that she had been depressed for years, and had neglected me, but knowing that did little to make me feel any better.