Page 12 of Where Are You Now
Ava opened the app and typedLucas Phillips, Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital, New York. She hit search. The hospital staff page came up.
“They haven’t taken down his bio yet.”
“What does it say?” Martha sipped her coffee.
“He’s a neurosurgeon … neurology, neurocritical care.” She clicked on the “About” section. “Dr. Phillips graduated from Columbia University and trained in neurology at John Hopkins University with a fellowship at Cornell University. Passionate about education, Dr. Phillips heads up several graduate programs … It lists them and then goes on to his education and awards.”
She scanned the rest of the page. “It doesn’t say where he’s from, but the position would be a good fit for a kid who loved science growing up. It would be just like him to go to med school. He was so smart.”
“It’s hard to say if it’s the Lucas Phillips you knew,” her mother said.
Ava zoomed in on the staff photo, but it got grainier as she enlarged it. She squinted at the image, trying to see if those green eyes and that sandy-brown hair could belong to the kid she’d known so many years ago.
“It sure does look like it could be him.”
Still unable to tell for sure, she did a wider search.
“His name isn’t coming up anywhere other than Columbia-Presbyterian. Maybe he hasn’t been added to his new hospital’s website yet.” She closed the app and opened Facebook to search there too. She scrolled through all the people with the profile “Lucas Phillips,” checking out their profile pictures, and none of them looked like the doctor or the boy she’d known.
“He might not have a Facebook page,” her mother offered.
Ava checked the other social media apps and didn’tfind anything. After that, she did a wider search for his name andNew York, but nothing came up except articles about his work at Columbia-Presbyterian. She went back to the bio page and zoomed in on the picture again, studying his face to commit it to memory.
“This is all I have to go on.”
“At least locating an old friend is something other than work. That’s a start.” Her mom got up. “Right now, however, you should relax. I’ll get us some cookies.”
Ava set her mug on the edge of the firepit, and warmed her hands by the flickering flames. How was she supposed to find someone who, apparently, had no online footprint? Was she going to have to hire a private detective?
Hey, God, want to make this a little easier on me?
“You should probably doyour breathing exercises,” her mother said later that afternoon as Ava lay on the sofa, clicking through the channels on TV.
“I’m breathing just fine.”
The packet of discharge papers slid down the coffee table toward her.
“If you don’t do your breathing exercises, you might not keep your lungs expanded the way they should be. It says so, right there in the paperwork.” Her mom leaned across the table and tapped the top page. “When you have a rib fracture, and it hurts to breathe, you might get used to taking shallow breaths, and that can cause pneumonia, among other issues.”
“You worry too much.”
“Humor me.”
Ava clicked off the TV and closed her eyes. “It hurts to sit up.”
Martha pursed her lips. “Exactly. So let’s practice.”
Pacifying her mom, Ava pushed herself into a sitting position and followed the directions the nurse had gone over with her before discharge, consulting the written packet for the parts she’d forgotten.
“There. Happy now?” she asked when she’d finished.
“Your bruises are fading,” her mom said, brushing a strand of hair out of Ava’s face the way she did when Ava was a girl. “When I first got to the hospital, you were so swollen I couldn’t recognize you. You’ve come a long way in a short time. I’m floored by it.”
“I’ve always been good at the rebound.” She grinned at her mother. “Fall down and get back up faster.”
Ava’s mom cooed at her. “I haven’t known you to fall very often.” She idly rearranged the magazines on the table next to her. “Except for one time. Remember when Dad taught you how to ride a bike? You fell a lot then.”
Ava could still recall the squeak of the pedals, the drop in her stomach as the bike swerved under her unbalanced body, her dad’s strong grip on her sides, keeping her steady. A pinch of longing to feel his grasp took hold. She needed him right now. Her father had been her guardian in everything. Learning to take care of herself had been the biggest adjustment after he died.
