Uncertain, I shrug my shoulders. I have no idea what I want. And even less do I know how to move forward from here. Semmtal is so small that Noah and I will surely run into each other soon. He responds to problems with withdrawal and isolation. I'm sure he won't even look at me.
"What's the worst thing you can do to a person?" I impulsively ask Clara.
She looks at me with confusion. "Murder?" she asks, bewildered.
"Ignorance," I say, shaking my head dejectedly. "To act as if the other person doesn't exist." I have no idea how I'm supposed to bear it.
In the corner of my eye, I see Clara playing with her two braids. "I don't follow," she says.
And I can't explain it to her now. Because if I did, I would burst into tears on the spot. "Work will distractme," I quickly say, trying to lift myself up a bit. I still have my job. Here in the practice, I can do good and at least feel needed for a few hours. "When do we open?"
Just as Clara lifts her gaze to the kitchen clock, the door is forcefully pushed open. A deeply flushed Helene enters the room and quickly makes her way toward us.
Her frustrated gaze is practically glued to me. "I need to talk to you. In my treatment room," she says, gesturing for me to get up quickly. "Now."
One doesn't have to be well-rested to see that she's stressed. And one doesn't even have to be capable of a single clear thought to know that I'm the reason.
What have I done?
This question accompanies me as I stumble behind Helene, who swiftly crosses the practice. It can only be about one thing.
Well, at least I have good news for her.
"If it's about Noah..." I say, closing the door to the treatment room behind me.
She immediately raises her hand to silence me. "You didn't listen to me."
No, I didn't. But dammit, I should have.
"How could you get involved with him? The whole Semmtal is talking about your romantic adventure in Munich." She paces restlessly in the room while I lean exhausted against the cold door. Then she abruptly stops and turns to me with a pleading expression on her face. "This man has done terrible things."
"No, he hasn't." I have no idea why I'm defending Noah now, especially after he made it so clear how little he values my help. Nevertheless, I can't help it. The truth must come to light. "No one could have doneanything for Julian on that fateful day. Not even you. Or me," I say without further explanations, assuming she knows the story like everyone else here.
A violent twitch runs through her body. "He let Julian die. That's how it happened, no different."
Are those tears I see in her eyes?
"I think Julian was sick. Long before the accident," I try to explain because even though she's my boss, I can't let her unwillingness to believe me sit with me.
Shaking her head, she looks at me from the other end of the room. Her arms are tightly crossed in front of her chest as if she's trying to hold on to herself. "Nonsense."
"My theory is that he had an abdominal aortic aneurysm." A condition she apparently didn't recognize even though he was under her treatment. "The fact that it ruptured after that harmless fall was pure coincidence."
Her eyes widen. Panic floods her face and quickly turns into anger. "My boy didn't have an aneurysm," she shouts at me with a shrill voice.
Excuse me? Did she just call Julian my boy?
In an instant, the puzzle pieces in my head come together.
Of course! The fact that Noah absolutely refused to be treated by her. The pictures in the kitchen – those are images of celestial phenomena. Julian took them. And he doesn't have a medical record because she treated him privately.
Stunned, I look at her haggard-looking face. "He was your son," I say before I fully realize what that means.
Her own child was sick. And she didn't notice.
There can be no greater punishment for any doctor in this world than this guilt.
I take a step toward her and reach out my hand. "I'm so sorry, Helene."
