“I can’t tell you that. That’s not the way it works.”
“Do you sense my feelings?”
“It’s all in the tone of your voice. The voice I hear, anyway.”
“And what voice is that?”
“The one everyone has.”
“Everyone?”
She took a deep breath and he saw the hints of resignation again. “Every country and every age. Different voices speaking the same language. That’s what I hear.”
He leaned forward. “Every voice sounds the same?”
“Of course not. Everyone has a different voice. They just all speak the same language.”
“Everywhere in the world?”
“Everywhere I’ve traveled so far. So… a lot of it.”
“What language is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are they saying?”
Frustration flashed. “I don’t know.”
“So how do you—”
“It’s a language, doctor. There are rises and falls in the rhythm. There are common words and phrases I hear again and again. I hear the same things from the minds of people all over the world. I just don’t know what they’re saying.”
He had to pause to contain his reaction. It didn’t matter.
She cocked her head. “That’s exciting to you.”
He smiled. “It’s very interesting, Ava.”
“Interesting is one word for it.”
He heard the irritation in her voice. “Though I’m sure it is frustrating, as well. I imagine it can be quite distracting.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “It’s enough to drive you crazy.”
Asner laughed a little, and Ava relaxed a bit. “How do you sleep?”
“Probably the same way you do. A bed is usually involved, but I’m pretty comfortable on trains, too. Planes are harder. Buses, practically impossible.”
“What a clever and humorous deflection of my question.” He stretched his legs in front of him, almost spanning the small office. “When you sleep, do you dream?”
“Vividly. Always have.”
“And these voices… do you hear them in your dreams?”
She frowned, and Asner wondered if he was the first mental health professional to ask that question. Ava Matheson had seen more than her share.
“No. No, I don’t hear them in my dreams.”
He smiled. “That must be a relief.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Is that part of the reason you prefer to work alone? No voices?”
“Yes.”
“And happy, relaxed places. Vacation spots instead of conflict areas.”
“It’s all falling into place, isn’t it, Doc?”
“Have you tried medications?”
“All sorts of them.” She reached out and grabbed the arms of the chair she sat in. “Most of them make me sleepy. Kill my appetite. That’s about it.”
He nodded, jotting down more notes as she examined him. “Do the voices… are they always the same volume? Are some louder than others?”
“Everyone is different. Some people are clearer than others. Yours right now is very quiet, but… urgent. You want to get this information as quickly as possible, but you’re trying to remain calm.”
He stopped and looked up at her. “That’s very disconcerting, Ava.”
She gave him an innocent smile. “Imagine what it must be like for me. What do you want, Doctor? You want something.”
He paused, trying to decide how to answer. “I’d like to refer you to a colleague. He’s someone I think might be able to help you.”
“Why?”
“I remember him speaking once about a patient with similar symptoms. Do you mind traveling to see him?”
She waved at the distant ocean. “I was in Cyprus when my mom called and told me to go to a doctor in Israel for my yearly ‘what’s-the-matter-with-Ava’ appointment. What do you think?”
“Excellent.”
“I might not go, though.” She shrugged. “Carl and Mom get pushy about once a year, but mostly, they leave me alone. Especially now that I have Jasper’s money.”
“Jasper is your father?”
“Yeah.” A hint of a smile crept across her face. “I guess you could call him that.”
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I know we’ve gone over the hour—no charge, of course— but…” Asner scribbled down a name and telephone number from memory. “I do hope you’ll see my colleague. He’s in Istanbul. Have you been before?”
Ava’s eyebrows furrowed together. “No, but I’ve been told it’s beautiful, even though it’s crowded.”
“And you don’t like crowds because of the voices?”
“That and the lack of deodorant on hot days. I might check it out.” She shrugged. “Like I said, no guarantees. If I happen to be in Istanbul, I’ll look him up.”
He smiled politely and rose to his feet as she stood to gather her things: a large messenger bag, a battered camera case, a light scarf thrown around her neck to keep the dust of the city away. She grabbed the paper from Doctor Asner’s hand and had started toward the door before he spoke.
“May I ask…?”
The young woman turned, tucking a curl behind her ear before she put her sunglasses on. “You can ask whatever you want. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”
He frowned. “Your name—Ava—means ‘voice’ in Persian. Did you know that?”
The sunglasses hid her eyes. “Yes.”
“Who gave you your name?”
She paused. “My father did. It was the one thing he asked for. To name me Ava.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
“And you never asked?”
She shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s a nice name. Maybe he just liked the actress, you know?”
“Names are important.”
She smiled a little. “Good-bye, Doctor Asner. Fun chatting with you. I probably won’t see you around.”
Mikhail Asner watched her through the window as she wound through the narrow streets of Neve Tzedek and wandered north toward the city center. The slight woman with curly black hair melded into the city landscape effortlessly, a seasoned traveler accustomed to blending with her surroundings. He watched for a few more minutes, then picked up the phone, dialing a number from memory.
“You haven’t called me in some time,” said the voice on the other end.
“I found someone of interest.”
“Did you give her my number?”
“Yes.”
“Her name?”
“Ava Matheson. American.”
