Wondering if his suspicion that the authors of the short comments were as young as he envisioned, Noah decided to look at one of the commenters’ Facebook page. He chose Teresa Puksar’s because she was one of the people who wrote “hot” and because the surname jumped out as being unique. He’d seen the name before on his previous visits to Gail Shafter’s homepage, as she was one of a half-dozen or so people who were loyal followers of Gail Shafter and commented on every post.
“Just as I thought,” Noah mused when he had Teresa Puksar’s homepage on his screen and saw that Teresa Puksar was thirteen. Then he noticed some of the young girl’s photos as being overly provocative. There were even a few nudes with her coyly covering nipples and the genital area. Even so, Noah was shocked that Facebook allowed them, as they could be considered by some conservative people as child pornography.
At that moment, the silence in his apartment was shattered by the raucous sound of his front door buzzer. Concentrating as he was, Noah leaped at the sound. “What the hell?” he questioned when he recovered. No one ever rang his doorbell, especially not after ten on a Sunday night.
Confused, Noah got up and went to the window. He pressed his face against the glass to see what he could on the sidewalk in front of his building, but he didn’t see anybody. He wasn’t surprised, because there was an alcove at his building’s front door where the apartment buzzer was located. Whoever had rung was most likely standing in there. Raising his line of sight, he saw that there was a dark SUV pulled over to the curb on the opposite side of his street with its blinkers going. That wasn’t normal, either.
Noah straightened up. Who the hell could be visiting? All at once the memory of the man in the suit came back in a rush. He’d decided that the episode had been all in his paranoid imagination. But was it? Could this strange visitor somehow be associated?
Then the buzzer sounded again. Knowing that he wasn’t going to find out anything unless he went down to the front door, Noah put his shoes back on. He looked around for some sort of weapon to defend himself if need be, but then dismissed the idea as coming from a sick, paranoid mind.
When he got down to the front door, he debated what to do. Should he just open the door and face whoever was there? It seemed more prudent to call through the door and get some idea before opening up. “Who is it?” he yelled.
“It’s Ava,” a woman’s voice responded.
For a second, Noah was startled. It was as if his brain was momentarily scrambled. “Ava? Is that really you?” he asked incredulously. What he was doing was playing for time to recover. Without waiting for an answer, he struggled with the door to undo the dead bolt that was used after nine. A moment later he was staring at Ava, dressed in a businesslike pantsuit. The blond streaks in her hair gleamed in the harsh overhead entrance light.
For a moment neither spoke. Finally, Ava said, “Well? Can I come in?”
As if waking from a trance, Noah said, “Sorry! Sure, come in.”
“Upstairs?” Ava asked.
“Yes,” Noah said. “One flight.”
He followed her up the stairs, feeling confused. While he was thrilled to see her, he was furious that she had disappeared and totally ignored him. “The door is unlocked,” he said as they reached the landing.
He followed her inside his apartment and closed the door behind them. She had stopped a few feet from the door and let her eyes roam around the small, sparse room. “I’d describe this as minimalist,” she said.
“That’s being kind,” Noah said.
For a beat, they stared at each other. Noah was still fighting his emotions. All at once tears appeared in Ava’s eyes and spilled out onto her cheeks. Her hand shot up and covered her eyes, and for a moment she sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking.
Noah was beside himself with indecision. He didn’t know how to respond. But then charity won out and he stepped forward and enveloped her in his arms. They stood that way for a few moments until Noah led her to the small couch and encouraged her to sit down.
“I’m sorry,” she managed. She wiped her tears from her cheeks with a knuckle, but it was a losing battle.
“It’s okay,” Noah said. He went back to his bathroom and brought out a small box of tissues. She took one and noisily blew her nose. She took another and wiped her eyes. This time she was more successful.
“I want to apologize to you for not contacting you,” she said when she was more in control.
“Thank you,” Noah said. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Ava said. “At first I was just too distraught after being involved with another death. I’m still distraught, obviously. Anyway, I just wanted to get away and forget everything. I thought about quitting anesthesia.”
“No!” Noah said without hesitation. “Don’t say that. Not after all your training and effort. You are a talented anesthesiologist. You wouldn’t be on the BMH staff if you weren’t.”
“I never expected to be involved with one death,” Ava said. “Suddenly, it’s two. I thought that by constant studying, by constant attempts to make myself better, it wouldn’t happen. But it has.”
“You know the expression ‘medicine is more art than science,’” Noah said. “It’s true. As a doctor, even if you do everything exactly right, things can disintegrate into chaos. There are too many variables. It’s part of the human condition.”
“I thought I could be different. I thought dedication and commitment would be enough.”
“We are all in this together,” Noah said. “We do the best we can. That is all that can be expected of us. You didn’t do anything wrong on either case. I know. I was there.”
“You really think so? Honest?”
“Absolutely! No question. I think you are a terrific anesthesiologist.”
“Well, thank you. Your support means a lot to me.”
“But it’s not going to be easy to put all this to rest,” Noah said. “I had several run-ins with Dr. Mason. The first was right after the M&M and the second after the Gibson death. I’m afraid he’s still on our case.” Noah went on to tell Ava the details about the two confrontations, particularly about Dr. Mason’s accusation that Noah was purposefully protecting her. He then went so far as to tell her that Dr. Mason suspected that they were having an affair.
“Oh, no,” Ava said with consternation. “Why? How?”
“He has no evidence,” Noah said quickly, alarmed at Ava’s reaction. “He came up with the idea out of the blue when he was talking with me, saying he couldn’t understand why I was protecting you. He wants to put you down because you’ve rebuffed him, and obviously, he saw through my ruse at the M&M of avoiding the anesthesia issue entirely.”
“Do you think he has told anyone about his suspicions?”
“I know he has,” Noah admitted. “I got called on the carpet by both the head of the Surgery Department and the head of the surgical residency program.”
“They had the nerve to reprimand you for possibly having an affair with me?” Ava questioned with disbelief. She didn’t know whether to be insulted or more worried about the inevitable rumors.
“The possibility of an affair was just mentioned in passing,” Noah said. “The hospital doesn’t care. What both of them were irritated about was Dr. Mason’s complaint that I have been protecting you.”