That wasn’t strictly true, though. Once the end of the war came, the morgue stopped needing him so desperately, but until then, Dr. Norris couldn’t quite fire Jasper. A live body willing to work was something he was unable to reject, especially after he learned about how Jasper was innocent but irrevocably tied to Birdie and her legacy.
So when things began to quiet down a month later, Allene invited Jasper to go ice skating on the Seventy-Second Street Lake in Central Park. This was an exaggeration, of course. Allene all but dragged Jasper out of his uncle’s depressing apartment to sit in the cold, on a bench, while they watched the healthier population of New York skate on the pond. Allene had put on her ice skates, but Jasper only kicked his rental skates where they lay unbuckled by his feet.
“What will you do?” Allene asked. She wasn’t asking about the skates.
“I don’t know.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Where’s Ernie?” Allene blushed immediately, as expected. “He’s a rare old scout, isn’t he?” Allene blushed deeper, so he stopped. Clouds of breath framed her auburn hair.
“Don’t change the subject. So why don’t you go to school?”
“I don’t want to be a doctor anymore.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. After taking care of Allene, something inside of him had ignited painfully, burnt, and collapsed into ash. “I think . . . I’m going to apply for graduate school.” He took a deep breath. “In chemistry.”
Allene stared at him before bursting out in laughter. Hoots and hollers and guffaws most unbecoming of a proper Upper East Side socialite. A few skaters slowed down to stare at her quizzically.
“What on earth is wrong with you?” Jasper asked.
“Oh, Jasper. It’s just . . . funny.”
“Why?”
She told him about her plans. He stared at her in wonder, but the wonder lasted only a few seconds. This was Allene, after all. “You know,” she said, “I always thought between the two of us, I was the better chemist.”
“You are. For now,” he challenged.
She hugged his arm. “Now, I suppose you’ll be vying for the Nobel Prize or be a preeminent scholar at the best universities. Am I correct?”
Jasper tried to temper his emotions. He hadn’t thought chemistry was his forte, but it had insinuated itself into his life while he’d danced around death and ambition. Like a partner written in last on his dance card, it waited its turn to show its worth. There was a solace in studying the elements that he desperately sought. There was a steadiness to its logic that didn’t depend on the whims of people. Chemistry would reward him with alchemic twists and explosions. It told stories that were altogether inhuman. That he could handle. It was the hospital and its inhabitants, dead and alive, that he could no longer bear.
“I have a brilliant, three-step plan. Do you want to hear it?” he began, reaching for his ice skates.
“Of course!”
Jasper buckled them on before hobbling out onto the edge of the ice. He had remarkably weak ankles that bowed inward, and his knees shook. It was an odd thing for him to feel so physically precarious. He offered his hand to Allene.
“The first part of the plan,” he announced, “is not to fall on this ice and permanently injure my pride.”
“Excellent.” She grabbed his hand and joined him on the ice, far more steady than he. “And the second?”
“Buy some candy for Holly.”
“Well done. You’re a stellar godfather. And the third?”
“Wake up tomorrow morning, and keep going.”
Allene nodded her approval, and Jasper attempted to smile. It wasn’t much, but it would do. He took a shaky step, feeling the ice beneath the blade of his skate. Allene had released his hand already; his unsteadiness was holding her back. She sped past him with a whoop and swirl of woolen skirt. In the spring, this ice would melt and the lake would reappear. In ten years, these skates would be irreparably rusted. In thirty, his hair would gray, if he were that lucky. How capricious and temporary everything was. He wondered when the feeling would go away, if ever.
He thought of Oscar and how much he must have understood about this blasted world, how he’d refuse to eat breakfast or read the news after their parents died. “What’s the point?” he’d say, dead toned, and he was right. Hopelessness had murdered him before he’d ever set foot in Camp Upton. Jasper realized it would be an uphill battle not to become his brother. But he was willing to fight, goddammit.
And then he shrugged, just as Allene circled around him and taunted him to catch up with her.
Step one, he thought to himself, and dug into the ice with his toe.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
All physicians can tell you that medical school and residency leave an indelible mark on their lives. I myself had the privilege and honor to study at New York University School of Medicine and complete my training in primary care internal medicine at NYU as well. For both of these stages in my career, much of my time was spent at Bellevue Hospital. I had heard of Bellevue’s both infamy and acclaim, but there was precious little time during those busy years to learn about its long and colorful backstory.
And yet the history was ever present on campus. There were the iron gates on First Avenue; the men’s shelter that was once the psychiatric hospital; the original pathology building, a classic McKim, Mead & White design. The office of the chief medical examiner was across the street from my dorm room. When I began writing fiction, I knew I would at some point include Bellevue as an homage to my relationship with the campus and its people.
A second influence in writing this book is thanks to Deborah Blum, who wrote The Poisoner’s Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York (Penguin, 2010). Here was a fantastic trip into the origin of modern forensic medicine, and at Bellevue, no less. Dr. Norris and Dr. Gettler are true pioneers in the field, and I did my best to tip my hat to them and maintain their personalities, while having fun bringing them to life in this fictional world. Furthermore, after reading and rereading passages on methanol, chloroform, arsenic, cyanide, and radium, I was entranced. Birdie’s, Allene’s, and Jasper’s characters popped into my head, each with their own identities, each inspired deeply by this nonfiction book that took my love of chemistry and pathology, and urged me to transform it into a story.