Робин Кук - Cell

“What’s your relationship with Paula Stonebrenner?” Clayton asked. He was looking at George with raised eyebrows. “It looked like she made a beeline for you at the reception. You banging her?”

George took a step back. Clayton was known for blunt, even vulgar, comments but they were usually unintentionally inappropriate. This one seemed deliberate. George assumed Clayton was taking a shot at him for forcing him to reveal the family connection to Thorn.

“We were at Columbia Medical School together.”

“And...?” Clayton wasn’t letting up.

“We dated a little our first year,” George admitted, feeling a little like Clayton was taking advantage of George’s subordinate role. “We’re just friends now. Maybe even that’s too strong a word. We’re acquaintances.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Clayton said, backing off. “It’s none of my business.” Clayton knew about George’s fiancée’s recent death and had been lately encouraging George to be more social. He had even invited George to a couple of parties at his home, which George had respectfully declined. George imagined Clayton meant well, but he had always been put off by Clayton’s treatment of women, as if their existence were solely for his enjoyment. Kasey had been harsher in her assessment. As a radiologist, George truly admired the man, but as a person, it was another story.

“Paula is an impressive woman,” Clayton offered. “I’ve gotten to know her a bit while working on the iDoc project. Maybe you should think about sparking that fire again.”

“She is impressive, I agree. But as far as dating again... I don’t know.”

“I know you’re still trying to work things out... about Kasey. Things like that never really go away. You just find a way to live with it. Paula’s attractive, considerate, incredibly bright, and on the fast track to professional stardom. That’s something to think about.”

George stared at the floor, nodding his head. What Clayton was saying about Paula was both accurate and kind. He was demonstrating his ability to flip from crass to considerate. That was his saving grace, from George’s perspective.

“Just make sure you sign out properly next time,” Clayton said as he turned to leave.

George was stunned. Clayton was switching directions again, this time from personal to professional.

“I had everything covered,” George said, stumbling over an excuse.

“No matter,” Clayton said, “I won’t say anything to the chief of radiology, but from now on do us both a favor and follow protocol whenever you leave the hospital. I don’t want you screwing up at this point in your career. You’ve been doing so well.”

“I will,” George assured Clayton. “And thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem. And think about some Amalgamated stock. It’s worth mortgaging an apartment to free up some cash if need be.” He headed off down the hallway with a wave over his shoulder before George could respond.

George watched him disappear down the hall. Clayton had managed to get one last zing in before leaving. George had to hand it to him; the guy was way ahead of George in manipulating people. George wanted to yell out that in case Clayton had forgotten, he didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. He didn’t own his apartment. He rented. And that was a struggle. With his salary, he’d have to go out as far as San Bernardino in order to find something affordable to buy, and the commute would kill him. Clayton knew all this. He just enjoyed screwing with George.

GEORGE’S APARTMENT

WESTWOOD, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

MONDAY, JUNE 30, 2014, 5:48 P.M.

George drove his aging Jeep Cherokee up behind his apartment complex and parked. He was very much out of sorts, having been reminded by Clayton of his impecunious circumstances in the middle of a very expensive, money-worshipping city. Once inside his tiny apartment, he went into his closet and pulled down the cardboard box in which he stored Kasey’s things. There wasn’t much, since she had not finished moving in with him. Just a few clothes and personal items. For some time he had avoided looking in the box, but now he wanted to see something specific.

He rooted through the box and found Kasey’s cell phone under a small stack of sweaters. Always cold, she was a firm believer in layering, and had sweaters handy at all times. One of George’s fondest memories of her was her throwing one on and cuddling up against him on the couch to watch a movie. George pushed such thoughts out of his head and plugged her phone into his charger. Once it powered up, he punched in her passcode. He wanted to make sure she had had an iDoc app. She did. It was in the dock section for apps at the very bottom of the display face, so no matter which screen she was on, it was always available. He had seen it but had never asked her about it, and she had never offered an explanation. Now he knew why: the nondisclosure agreement she’d had to sign to become part of the iDoc beta test.

George pressed the icon, curious to see what might happen. It opened, but the screen was blank except for an icon similar to the one on the app. Apparently iDoc had been wiped clean, as Paula had mentioned. He wasn’t surprised. It made sense to protect the privacy of her health information. He put the phone back and set the box on the closet shelf. Then he grabbed a beer from the fridge before retreating to his threadbare sofa, where he was enveloped by the black hole sensation of Kasey’s loss. When he allowed himself to think about it, he marveled at just how much he missed her. At the same time he recognized that he had to pull himself out of the hole that fate had cast him into, as he had promised her.

The trouble was, knowing what he had to do and actually doing it were two entirely different things.

From his perspective, being in L.A. didn’t help. Some people fantasized it was a hedonistic center, but that hadn’t been George’s experience. He had found L.A. could be a cold city to outsiders, and with the busy schedule of a resident, he didn’t have a lot of time to meet any new people other than fellow medical center employees, like nurses. Meeting Kasey in the hospital had been a total but wonderful fluke.

A few weeks earlier, with his promise to Kasey in mind, George had tried a couple of online dating sites, but they turned out to be a bust. As far as he could tell, no one on those sites told the truth about anything. Maybe he should see Paula as a friend. She was a known quantity. Seven years before, he had royally screwed up what could have been a rewarding relationship, which might not bode well, but at least now there was a new element. Apparently a portion of her current success stemmed from her taking his idea of using a smartphone as a primary-care doctor. They had that in common. Maybe her invitation to visit was something he should take seriously.

Out of desperation for human contact — any kind of human contact — George took another beer and went outside. He strolled over to the parking area behind his apartment complex. Earlier, when he’d arrived, he’d seen one of his neighbors, Sal DeAngelis, polishing his red vintage Oldsmobile convertible. The guy was nuts about the vehicle.

Sure enough Sal was still there, polishing away. He had his earbuds in, and as George approached he could hear the tinny jangle of doo-wop music leaking out of the tiny speakers. Sal didn’t see him right off so George hung back and watched the man work. Sal lived next door and the men became acquainted from proximity more than anything else, sharing a common wall in their kitchens and living rooms. Sal was a friendly, outgoing, red-faced, stocky, retired plumber replete with a serious beer belly. He also was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, as well as a host of other medical problems, all of which he had been in the habit of discussing ad nauseam with George. Sal had never understood the fact that George was a radiology resident rather than a clinical doctor, so he constantly plied George with questions outside his specialty. Then a few months ago he had stopped. Although George had appreciated the respite from answering the same questions over and over, he was curious as to why they had suddenly stopped.