Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #158
…You were going to ask me a question, Harv. When you are at a loss for words, it is invariably serious and probably very personal…
Harv Pearson is not as dense as Judith thinks. He knows that he can never be a publishing giant, not with his love for the field and his newfound passion for their magazine. Selling out to Jackson, his editor at The Quincy Reporter, is the right thing to do… but so too is marrying the woman he loves. That makes two important items he hasn’t made time for. Should either or both grow tired of his procrastination, it would literally be a crying shame.
“Judith?” He stops his preparation for a transcontinental commute to a burning San Francisco, to prevent a fire at home. “What would you say; no… I was wondering if, I mean… we haven’t really discussed this, but…”
“You were going to, Harv. I know that when you are at a loss for words, it is invariably serious and probably very personal.” It is the unspoken task for women to pry the truth out of creatures who are inherently incapable of doing it well, if at all. “So, my answer is, yes, I will marry you and it is high time; I passed the spinster line some time before I met you.”
‘That was easy’, Pearson thinks to himself. Had he known what little effort it took, this proposing thing, he would have spared Judith’s sofa the imprint of his body.
“Well it’s a good thing we are doing this legal. I believe the common-law statute was just about ready to kick in.” Harv injects humor into a laughable situation, taking her perplexed person into his loving embrace. “You know that this changes everything, don’t you?”
“Yes, if you mean that you are losing that “big brother” camouflage… or that you will drop that nasty habit of squashing your passion. It’s not healthy, you know, having a lion inside the body of a pussy cat. We’ve wasted precious time in a cage and I intend to let you out.”
He responds to her metaphor, however corny, even to the point where it is she who must apply the brakes to their passion, which has found its way to an office settee. “Harv, honey, Stanley will be here any minute with the proofs of Emmeline Pankhurst.” She is speaking of English “suffragette” whom they are featuring in this month’s issue.
“I guess it is back into the cage.”
“Now don’t you pout,” she reassembles unfastened articles of her clothing, though she would have preferred not to.
Stanley, the lab technician, strolls into the tail-end of the compromising scene, unaware of how close he was to viewing his bosses in a new and revealing light. Fortunately his pupils are still dilating from the darkroom black.