A Doctor In Her Stocking

“Then quit looking like you just lost your best friend,” Seth told him, still smiling.

“Don’t tempt me,” Reed returned, only half joking.

But Seth wasn’t falling for it. “C’mon, Reed, it’s Christmas. Will you please just lighten up?”

“Christmas,” Reed echoed blandly. “All the more reason to feel cranky.” Then, just for good measure, he added, “Bah, humbug.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Dr. Scrooge, for that enlightening, yet seasonal, observation.” Seth shook his head in what was clearly feigned disgust. “You know, I’m really glad I didn’t spring for the Russell Stovers for you this year. You’ll have to make do with an old, fossilized Hershey bar I found under my sofa cushion last July.”

“Just don’t wrap it, okay?” Reed said. “I hate all that festive red and green.”

But Seth only chuckled some more. “I have never met a man more predisposed to holiday grumpiness than you are. I’m sure there must be a reason for it, and if you were really my friend, you’d tell me what it was, but.” With what sounded like a heartfelt sigh, he shut his locker door with a resounding clank and turned to Reed. “I guess, for now, I’ll just have to look for the best in you.”

This time Reed was the one to chuckle, but his dry, derisive laughter in no way mirrored the good humor his friend’s had held. “If you want to find the best in me, then you’ll have to dig pretty damned deep,” he said.

“Hey, no problem,” Seth answered readily. “I’m a surgeon, remember? A really good one, too. I know what’s deep inside everyone. And I have a college degree to prove it.”

He knew what was deep inside everyone, huh? Reed mused. Now there was a troubling thought.

But before he could comment, Seth continued. “See, that’s where we differ,” he said.

“Only there?”

Reed’s sarcasm went right over his friend’s head. Either that or, like always, Seth just chose to ignore it. Because he went on, “When I go into a person, I’m looking for the good stuff and I work with that. And when you go in, you’re looking for the bad, and that takes priority.”

“Is this some weird surgeon’s angle on the glass being halffull or half-empty?”

Seth nodded. “Yeah, in a way, I guess it is. I’m just saying that I refuse to be blinded by the bad things in life, when those are so few and far between. It’s the good things that are most obvious, most evident, most abundant. And those are what make us able to survive the bad things.”

“Oh, please. You can’t possibly believe that the good in the world outweighs the bad. There’s poverty, hatred, bigotry, terrorism, war—”

“Love, honor, education, beauty, art,” Seth immediately interrupted him.

But Reed wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. “Sickness, death, crime, drugs,” he continued to enumerate.

Seth, however, was no more willing to back down than Reed was. “Music, chocolate, lingerie, prime rib-”

“All right, all right,” Reed surrendered. “Let’s just agree to disagree, okay?”

But Seth shook his head. “No, I don’t agree to do that.”

Reed eyed him in confusion. “You always did before.”

“It’s Christmas,” he repeated unnecessarily. “This is the best time of year to focus on the good things. Frankly, I’m getting really tired of all your pessimism.”

Reed opened his mouth to object, but Seth held up a hand, palm out, to cut him off. “Just hear me out,” he said. “I’m going to make a little wager with you, to prove that I’m right and you’re wrong.”

Now Reed eyed his friend with suspicion. “What are you talking about?”

Seth settled his hands on his hips, staring at his friend with much consideration. “You insist that the bad outweighs the good in people, right?”

Reed nodded. “Didn’t I make that obvious?”

Seth ignored his question and asked instead, “You are of the opinion that man is, by nature, at best, indifferent, right?”

Another nod. “Right.”

“You think the average person is more likely to turn his back on someone in need than to lend that person a helping hand, correct?”

“Correct.”

Seth paused, then crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Reed some more. “I, on the other hand, am convinced that the good outweighs the bad, that people are, by nature, decent folk and that, if given a choice, the average person will be inclined to help out another individual in need.”

“My, what a rebel you are,” Reed responded dryly. “Hang on a second while I alert the media.”

But Seth only ignored him again. “And I’m going to bet you that I’m right and you’re wrong.”

Reed smiled. He loved betting with Seth. Because, invariably, Seth lost. He was a lousy gambler, doubtless because he was such a flagrant optimist. Optimists never came out ahead in wagers. There was no place for hope in the world of chance. But instead of leaping to agree to the other man’s offer, Reed hesitated.

“What’s in it for me, if I win?” he asked. “More important, what’s in it for you, if I lose? And just how the hell are we supposed to settle something like this anyway? It’s all abstract.”

“It’s Christmas,” Seth repeated, more emphatically this time. “That means goodwill toward humankind abounds out there right now. You sure you want to go through with this wager? Things are heavily weighed in my favor.”

“Oh, please,” Reed muttered. “Christmas makes no difference at all. People still hate each other, they’re still willing to take advantage of each other. Now more than ever, I’d bet. There must be no end to the holiday scams that arise this time of year.”

“I say you’re wrong,” Seth insisted. “I predict that within hours of our walking out of this hospital, we’ll witness some act of goodwill that was totally unprovoked.”

Reed narrowed his eyes at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you and I—” he punctuated the statement by pointing a finger first at Reed, then at himself “—we’re going to spend the rest of the evening together. And before this evening is through, I’ll bet you that we see someone do something nice for someone else. For no other reason than that it was the right and decent thing to do, because one person cared about what happened to another.”

Reed glanced down at his watch. “There’s less than five hours left to this evening, pal,” he said. “Don’t you think you’re being a little optimistic?”

Seth smiled. “Uh, yeah. That was kind of the point, Reed. It just goes to show you how absolutely certain I am that I’ll win.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Reed assured him. “But I don’t have any problem taking advantage of a crazy man. As long as the prize is right. What do I win at the end of this evening, when you realize what a sap you’ve set yourself up to be?”

Now Seth’s smile turned predatory. “If you win—which, it goes without saying, you won’t—I’ll spring for an allexpenses-paid golf holiday in Scotland next summer. For two. You and me. Won’t cost you a dime.”

Reed thought about that for a minute. “Throw in a bottle of The MacCallan, and you’re on.”

“You got it,” Seth agreed readily. “But if I win,” he hastily continued, before Reed had a chance to start feeling cocky, “then I get something of equal value in return.”

“You want me to pay for a trip to Scotland for two? I can do—”

“No,” Seth told him. “What I want in return is for Dr. Scrooge to perform an act of humanity, of goodwill, himself. A gesture of complete selflessness and kindness.”

“What?” Reed exclaimed.