Blemish

Chapter Two

Dr. Eugenio Blumentritt sat behind his desk facing a cadre of policemen, and squirmed under the gaze of the man sitting on the chair across from him.

A ray of light from the open windows revealed dust motes dancing to the ticking of the clock in the corner. The cool weather had quickly turned into a scorching afternoon, and the room felt like a furnace. He really should see to the overhead fan being fixed.

“Did you gentlemen want a cool drink first, perhaps?” he offered, his voice sounding scared to his ears.

Inspector Paredes gestured impatiently. “Do I look like I have time for a drink, doctor? I am here on important business, and every minute of mine you waste is a waste of government money.”

Irritated, the doctor glared at his visitors. How dare these people come in here, wake him up from his afternoon nap, and demand he breach his patient-doctor confidentiality, in the name of government. Why, he had been practicing now as a family doctor for how long? For over 50 years, that’s how long, and he was no novice to be pushed around!

Now the inspector’s eyes were looking at the wall to the side of the doctor’s desk. Dr. Blumentritt followed the man’s gaze where it fell on his framed diplomas from University of Santo Thomas and University of Madrid.

“Wouldn’t it be a pity,” Inspector Paredes said, “if you were to be stripped of your license to practice?”

“Stripped of my license?” Dr. Blumentritt stammered.

Next, the inspector picked up a gilded frame on the doctor’s desk. The portrait of Anna, the doctor’s sweet wife of 60 years. They had just celebrated their anniversary a month ago. Dr. Blumentritt wanted to snatch the portrait out of the man’s hands.

“And wouldn’t it be a shame if your wife had to live a destitute life due to your incooperation?” Inspector Paredes continued. “You and her in your golden years, cast off into the streets for not being able to pay your mortgage…”

Whatever combative sentiment Dr. Blumentritt held in his chest withered and died on the vine. Anna had already approached him, sweetly, mind you, for a new dresser. Everything was so expensive nowadays, but nothing, he decided, was too expensive for his dear wife.

Retirement had sounded its clamoring bell of late. He had been practicing for over 50 years, and his bones felt it. Was that the way it would be for him, to go out a pauper, disgraced in the eyes of his neighbors, with nothing to show for all his years of hard work? Anna would die of heartbreak and shame, he was sure.

For one brief moment, he thought of the girl in question, Maristella Garcia. He had been her doctor since she was a tiny baby. Unlike some girls who grew into their beauty, Maristella had always been lovely.

She was beautiful, except for one tiny blemish. A blemish that was now her scourge.

Dr. Blumentritt doubted if she even knew it. Her father had paid a large sum after the diagnosis so the doctor would keep quiet, instructing him not to tell the girl herself. The money had quickly been used to purchase several cavans of rice for the Blumentritt household, nothing frivolous, but the doctor agreed mostly because he was the father of eight children and he knew what lengths a parent would go to protect a child.

And now these men wanted proof of her disease, in writing. Someone in the clinic had betrayed Maristella Garcia. It could have been one of the nurses. Or his errand boy. Or maybe the careless secretary he let go just the week before. It didn’t change the fact the secret was out.

“Doctor?” the inspector said.

Dr. Blumentritt glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner and watched the second hand move in mindless precision. If the doctor were to confirm her disease, Maristella Garcia’s life would be ruined forever.

Better for the Garcia girl’s life to be ruined than his beloved Anna’s.

“I will cooperate,” Dr. Blumentritt finally said, his decision making him weak with relief and shame. He reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, wiping savagely at his perspiration-soaked face and neck.

The inspector grinned. “Excellent.”