The Rosie Effect
Page 70
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‘Don’s demanding that we include data that was gathered before the protocols were properly in place. It’s misleading.’
‘It’s the most interesting data,’ I said. ‘It establishes that neither mother raises the baby’s oxytocin levels through play rituals.’
‘That’s because the original play rituals were male-biased. The female carers weren’t comfortable with them. The babies sensed this. We had to make them more appropriate to women.’
‘They would be classified as cuddling,’ I said.
‘You didn’t see them. You weren’t there.’
The second part was true. Emails advising me of the schedule had failed to arrive, and the technicians I had contacted had not located the problem despite multiple followups and escalation. Fortunately B3 had found a more efficient solution.
‘I was provided with video.’
‘Who—’
‘Does it matter?’ asked David. ‘Don’s surely entitled to see the video.’
‘He’s not qualified to determine the difference between play and cuddling.’
‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘I sent the videos to experts for analysis.’
‘Who? Who did you send the videos to?’
‘The original researchers in Israel, obviously. They confirmed that the second protocol should be classified as cuddling. Hence your research establishes that the secondary carer, if female, stimulates the production of oxytocin in the child by cuddling rather than play. Which is a clear difference from the results with male secondary carers. Hence interesting.’
It seemed that B1 had not understood my point, as she stood up with an expression that I provisionally diagnosed as angry. I clarified. ‘Hence highly publishable. The researcher I spoke to on Skype was extremely interested.’
‘What Don’s done is totally unethical,’ said B1. ‘Showing our results to other researchers.’
‘Naive, perhaps. Not unethical. This is the Columbia medical school, open and cooperative with researchers around the world. Don has our support.’
After B1 had left, the Dean congratulated me on my persistence. ‘They tried to cut you out, Don. I think most researchers would have walked away. Refusing to take no for an answer has given us a good result.’
The weather had turned cold, as was usual for early December. Bud’s diagram was now taking up four tiles. At twenty-nine weeks, with the medical services available in New York, he could possibly survive in the external world.
Our marriage was surviving in shared-house mode.
Rosie had invited her study group to our apartment to celebrate the end of classes prior to exams and also her deferral from the course.
‘It’ll probably be the last time I see these guys,’ she said. ‘We’ve got nothing much in common—most of them are younger than me.’
‘Only by a few years. They’re adults.’
‘Just. And they’re not into babies and stuff. Anyway, if you and Gene want to go out with Dave—’
‘We had a boys’ night out last night. Dave is being criticised for insufficient attention to Sonia and also has to perform paperwork. Gene has a date with Inge.’
‘A date.’
‘Correct.’ It was pointless to use a less accurate term. Gene had confessed that he was in love with Inge. George had argued that the age difference was irrelevant, and Dave had no opinion. Gene’s visa allowed him to remain in the US for a month’s vacation on completion of his sabbatical, and he planned to spend the time looking for a permanent position in New York.
‘How about George?’ Rosie had not met George.
The persistent suggestion of alternatives led to an inevitable conclusion. I had learned something from the Lesbian Mothers Project.
‘You don’t want me here?’
‘It’s my study group.’
‘This is also my apartment. The study-group meeting is a social occasion. I’m your partner. Are other people bringing partners?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Excellent. I am RSVPing in the affirmative.’
The Dean would have been impressed.
27
Gene provided me with some guidelines for hosting a party.
‘Loud music, low lights, salty food, plenty of booze. Fresh shirt and jeans. The shoes you wore for Dave the Calf, if you’ve cleaned them. Don’t tuck your shirt in. The unshaven look is fine. Shake hands, serve food, serve drinks, don’t do anything to embarrass Rosie.’
‘What makes you think I’ll embarrass her?’
‘Experience. And she told me. Not in so many words, but she tried to get me to break my date with Inge so I could take you off her hands. Fat chance. This is the big one.’
‘The big one? You plan to have sex with Inge?’
‘Believe it or not, it’s been remarkably chaste so far. But my professional instincts tell me that tonight’s the night.’
I made the party arrangements, and Rosie confirmed that all was going according to plan when I arrived home.
‘What’s all this booze?’ she asked. ‘I had to sign for five cases of liquor. We can’t afford to be spending like this.’
‘Delivery was free. And there was a discount for the quantity. Based on past behaviour, you’ll be drinking to excess again once Bud is born.’
‘I told people to bring their own. We’re just students.’
‘I’m not,’ I said.
‘It’s the most interesting data,’ I said. ‘It establishes that neither mother raises the baby’s oxytocin levels through play rituals.’
‘That’s because the original play rituals were male-biased. The female carers weren’t comfortable with them. The babies sensed this. We had to make them more appropriate to women.’
‘They would be classified as cuddling,’ I said.
‘You didn’t see them. You weren’t there.’
The second part was true. Emails advising me of the schedule had failed to arrive, and the technicians I had contacted had not located the problem despite multiple followups and escalation. Fortunately B3 had found a more efficient solution.
‘I was provided with video.’
‘Who—’
‘Does it matter?’ asked David. ‘Don’s surely entitled to see the video.’
‘He’s not qualified to determine the difference between play and cuddling.’
‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘I sent the videos to experts for analysis.’
‘Who? Who did you send the videos to?’
‘The original researchers in Israel, obviously. They confirmed that the second protocol should be classified as cuddling. Hence your research establishes that the secondary carer, if female, stimulates the production of oxytocin in the child by cuddling rather than play. Which is a clear difference from the results with male secondary carers. Hence interesting.’
It seemed that B1 had not understood my point, as she stood up with an expression that I provisionally diagnosed as angry. I clarified. ‘Hence highly publishable. The researcher I spoke to on Skype was extremely interested.’
‘What Don’s done is totally unethical,’ said B1. ‘Showing our results to other researchers.’
‘Naive, perhaps. Not unethical. This is the Columbia medical school, open and cooperative with researchers around the world. Don has our support.’
After B1 had left, the Dean congratulated me on my persistence. ‘They tried to cut you out, Don. I think most researchers would have walked away. Refusing to take no for an answer has given us a good result.’
The weather had turned cold, as was usual for early December. Bud’s diagram was now taking up four tiles. At twenty-nine weeks, with the medical services available in New York, he could possibly survive in the external world.
Our marriage was surviving in shared-house mode.
Rosie had invited her study group to our apartment to celebrate the end of classes prior to exams and also her deferral from the course.
‘It’ll probably be the last time I see these guys,’ she said. ‘We’ve got nothing much in common—most of them are younger than me.’
‘Only by a few years. They’re adults.’
‘Just. And they’re not into babies and stuff. Anyway, if you and Gene want to go out with Dave—’
‘We had a boys’ night out last night. Dave is being criticised for insufficient attention to Sonia and also has to perform paperwork. Gene has a date with Inge.’
‘A date.’
‘Correct.’ It was pointless to use a less accurate term. Gene had confessed that he was in love with Inge. George had argued that the age difference was irrelevant, and Dave had no opinion. Gene’s visa allowed him to remain in the US for a month’s vacation on completion of his sabbatical, and he planned to spend the time looking for a permanent position in New York.
‘How about George?’ Rosie had not met George.
The persistent suggestion of alternatives led to an inevitable conclusion. I had learned something from the Lesbian Mothers Project.
‘You don’t want me here?’
‘It’s my study group.’
‘This is also my apartment. The study-group meeting is a social occasion. I’m your partner. Are other people bringing partners?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Excellent. I am RSVPing in the affirmative.’
The Dean would have been impressed.
27
Gene provided me with some guidelines for hosting a party.
‘Loud music, low lights, salty food, plenty of booze. Fresh shirt and jeans. The shoes you wore for Dave the Calf, if you’ve cleaned them. Don’t tuck your shirt in. The unshaven look is fine. Shake hands, serve food, serve drinks, don’t do anything to embarrass Rosie.’
‘What makes you think I’ll embarrass her?’
‘Experience. And she told me. Not in so many words, but she tried to get me to break my date with Inge so I could take you off her hands. Fat chance. This is the big one.’
‘The big one? You plan to have sex with Inge?’
‘Believe it or not, it’s been remarkably chaste so far. But my professional instincts tell me that tonight’s the night.’
I made the party arrangements, and Rosie confirmed that all was going according to plan when I arrived home.
‘What’s all this booze?’ she asked. ‘I had to sign for five cases of liquor. We can’t afford to be spending like this.’
‘Delivery was free. And there was a discount for the quantity. Based on past behaviour, you’ll be drinking to excess again once Bud is born.’
‘I told people to bring their own. We’re just students.’
‘I’m not,’ I said.
