Now That You Mention It

by Kristan Higgins

  "Yeah. You sure you're all right?"

  "Totally. Just not used to that, you know?" She rinsed her mouth out and spit into the sink, somehow making it not look gross.

  Amy glanced at me, then back at my sister. "Lily...um, watch out for Luke, okay? He gets around."

  "I know."

  Amy looked at me again.

  "Why don't you come home with me?" I said. "Lily? I think it's best if we go home."

  She glanced at me in the mirror. "I'm staying, Nora," she said, her voice full of contempt. Whatever moment we'd had was dead.

  The tears gathered in my throat. "Okay," I whispered. I kept my eyes on the floor, the ugly beige-tiled floor, and stood there as Amy gave my sister the gum and they chattered and laughed and then, finally, left.

  You wonder how much abuse you can take and still love someone. You wonder how long they can treat you like nothing but still want them back. You wonder how many years it will take to forget how things used to be, how long you'll burn yourself with that tiny ember of hope before the deluge of their neglect drowns it.

  A long time, in my case. A long, lonely time.

  *

  On Thursday about an hour after I got home from work, Sullivan Fletcher called and asked if he could take me out to dinner. "To thank you for everything you've done for Audrey," he said.

  "Um...sure!" I said. I'd been sitting on my couch in a tank top and pajama bottoms, watching the news (always a bad idea), eating sunflower seeds and fantasizing about cheese.

  "How about Stone Cellar?" he suggested, naming the chic restaurant I hadn't yet graced with my presence. "Pick you up in an hour?"

  "Sure!" I chirped again. "See you then!"

  I hung up, then ran to my room. It wasn't a date, per se. I shouldn't treat it like a date. It was a parent who wanted to thank me for being (cough) a brilliant doctor, because yes, Audrey's diagnosis had been confirmed in Boston. Sullivan probably wanted to ask me a bunch of questions about treatment and such.

  Which didn't mean I couldn't dress up a little.

  I'd given up on my hair here in Maine. My flatiron was no match for life on a windy island where it rained a lot. I pulled it back into a ponytail, though, and put on a pair of cropped jeans, a cute pink peasant blouse and a suede jacket. Sandals with a stacked heel, a little blush, a little mascara, and voila. I was date ready, even if it wasn't a date.

  "How do I look?" I asked the Dog of Dogs.

  "Beautiful," he said. Well, his eyes said it. I fondled his silky ears and gazed into his loving eyes. Dogs. The best work God had ever done.

  Sullivan arrived five minutes early. He looked like he'd come right from the boatyard--faded jeans and a T-shirt, making me glad I hadn't tried too hard (pause for laughter). Despite it being June, a chilly wind gusted. It would be in the forties tonight, for crying out loud.

  "Hey," he said. "You ready?"

  It was Maine. Conversation wasn't really our thing. "You bet." I turned on the porch light, and off we went.

  "So this is unexpected," I said as we bounced down Spruce Brook Road in his pickup.

  Sully didn't answer. Right. He was deaf in that ear, and unless he turned his head, he wouldn't be able to hear me. He glanced at me, didn't smile and glanced back at the road.

  It was a little odd. Something I'd have to get used to, no car chatting. Or no, I wouldn't have to get used to it. I was only here for the summer. Riding with Sullivan Fletcher wasn't going to be a regular thing.

  Fifteen silent minutes later, we were seated at a table in the restaurant, a newer place, a perfect mix of comfortable and posh. "Your server will be right with you," said the maitre d', handing us the menus.

  "Thank you," Sully said, looking at his.

  The restaurant was fairly full with the pleasant rattle and hum of food preparation. "Thank you for asking me out," I said.

  No answer.

  Right. I touched his hand. He looked up. "Hey. This is nice. Thank you."

  He looked at me a long minute. "This is really nice," I repeated.

  "Well. The least I could do."

  "Audrey stopped by yesterday. She's pretty excited."

  "Yeah. Weird for a kid to be psyched about surgery." But he smiled, and if he was nervous the way I was, it cracked for a minute.

  "Hi, I'm Amy, and I'll be your--oh."

  We looked up. There was his ex-wife, pad in hand. Her face was frozen. Sullivan stood up. "When did you start working here?" he asked.

  "Yesterday."

  "You should've told me."

  "What I do is none of your business."

  "Of course, it is. We've had this conversation, Amy."

  "Well, you're not exactly falling over yourself to fill me in on things, are you?" she said, gesturing with her elbow at me. "If you have a girlfriend, don't you think I should know?"

  No, this wasn't awkward at all.

  "Hey," I said. "How are you, Amy? I'm not his girlfriend."

  "Right," she said. "So. Listen. Thank you for Audrey. We went to Boston on Monday, and she's good to go for surgery. Me and Sully, we owe you big-time."

  They were still both standing. "Why don't you sit down for a second?" I asked. "Pull up a chair. Sully asked me out so he could pump me for information. Do you have any questions about the procedure or recovery or anything?"

  Sullivan sat back down. I was fairly sure he'd missed everything I just said.

  Amy hesitated. "I gotta work."

  "Here." I fished a pen and gas receipt out of my purse and wrote down my cell number. "Call me for anything. Audrey's a sweet kid, and I really like her. You've done a great job raising her."

  Amy's face softened. "Thanks," she said quietly. "Okay. Drinks, you two? Sully, you want a Sam's Summer?"

  "Sure," he said. "Thank you."

  "I'll have a mojito," I said. "Supposedly, it's summertime, no matter what the weather says."

  "Be right back." She snapped her pad shut and walked away.

  Sullivan and I looked at each other. "My ex-wife is our server tonight," he said, and we both laughed.

  "It's okay. She's still very..." Think of something nice to say, Nora. I glanced at the menu. Succulent? No. "So pretty."

  "Excuse me?"

  I looked right at him. "She's still so pretty."

  "Ah. Ayuh."

  Amy came back a minute later with our drinks. "On me," she said, setting down my drink.

  "Thank you so much," I said.

  She smiled--Amy Beckman, smiling at me! squealed my inner dorky adolescent--and put down Sully's beer. "What would you like for dinner? Want to hear the specials?"

  Sully would have to work that much harder to hear over the crowd, looking up at Amy.

  "No, that's fine," I said. "I mean, unless you do, Sullivan."

  "No, I'm good. Go ahead."

  I ordered the lobster roll (I would go for a run tomorrow, I swore it) and a salad to counteract the butter (ha). Sully ordered scallops.

  When Amy had taken our order, I leaned forward. This kind of intense conversing was a little unnerving. "Do you have any questions about Audrey?" I asked.

  "No," he said. "The doctor you recommended--Patel?" I nodded. "He covered everything. She goes in next week."

  "It's a great hospital, and Raj is the best. I'm sure everything will go smoothly."

  "Amy and I, we...we really can't ever thank you enough."

  I shrugged, a little embarrassed (and secretly thrilled). "Just doing my job. You know, like a firefighter, running into a burning building and saving lives and stuff."

  "I'm sorry. I missed everything you just said."

  Just as well, since I was babbling.

  "Hey, you two." Amy again. "I got you another table where it's quieter. He's deaf as a stump, you know," she said to me.

  "I heard that," he said.

  And so we moved to a back room where there were only three tables, all empty. "Thanks, Ame," he said.

  "Yeah, whatever," she said. "Brian will be your waiter back here.
Give a shout if you need anything." She started to leave, then turned back. "How's your sister?" she asked.

  "She's...she's doing okay," I said.

  "Tell her I said hi."

  "I will. Thanks."

  She left, and the relative quiet settled around us.

  "How is your sister?" Sullivan asked.

  "I don't know," I answered. "She doesn't speak to me."

  "Why is that?" His brown eyes were steady on mine, and there was something about the intent way he looked at me, the gentle calmness of his face. All of a sudden, there was a lump in my throat. I shrugged.

  "You and me, we both have problem siblings," he said.

  "How's your brother?"

  Sully glanced out the window, a rueful look on his face. "Well, he stole about a thousand dollars from the boatyard last week."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Yeah, whatcha gonna do?"

  "Call the police?"

  "Not an option."

  "Why not?"

  He sighed. "Well, you should know. He's lost a lot in life."

  "Are we still talking about that fucking scholarship?"

  Sully laughed out loud. "Listen to you! Dr. Stuart dropping the f-bomb." I felt my cheeks warm and took a sip of my drink. "No," he continued. "Not the scholarship. Not just the scholarship, I should say. He lost the chance to do something with his life."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, he's not quite dead, is he? There are a lot of choices he could make that would serve him better than being a druggie and a drunk. And as for loss, I have to ask you--what about you? I mean, you're the one who got hurt in that accident, Sullivan. Because of your brother being coked up that night. And you're the one who was in the hospital and a nursing home for six months. You're the one who's losing his hearing because of it. If anyone's lost something, I'd say it's you."

  He looked at me for a long minute. "Some people can handle things better than others."

  "So it's your job to look out for him?"

  "Ayuh. Don't you look out for your sister?"

  "No. She's in jail, currently refusing to answer any letters I send her."

  "But you're looking out for her daughter."

  He had me there. "Yes."

  "And I'm guessing that you've had some losses, too. But you've handled them better, that's all."

  I mulled that over. "Is that a compliment or a chastisement?" I asked.

  "Both?" He grinned, and his face went from ordinary to wicked in a flash.

  Sullivan Fletcher was...yeah. He was. My knees tingled with all that he was.

  "You got a boyfriend?" he asked. Not terribly subtle, but again, we were in Maine.

  "Not really," I said.

  "You sure?"

  "We broke up just before I came back here."

  Our waiter chose that moment to place our food down. "Hi, I'm Brian!" he said, as if he'd just been named and couldn't get over the wonder of it. "We have the delicious lobster roll for the beautiful lady, excellent choice, I might add, sweet potato fries, a personal favorite, and coleslaw that our chef makes with just a little bit of radish to really bring out the flavor. And for the gentleman, the scallops, which I totally adore, by the way, the mashed potatoes with scallions and a little bit of sour cream, hey, we all have to live life, am I right, and the brussels sprouts, my favorite veggie, let me tell you. All our produce is locally sourced and organic, of course. Can I get you anything else? Fresh ground pepper, grated cheese, extra bread, ketchup, more butter, sea salt, pink salt, Himalayan salt, a foot massage?"

  That last one may have been merely implied. "I think we're all set," I said.

  "Fantastic! Enjoy!" Brian cooed. "I'll check on you in a few! Mangia!"

  "Sometimes being hard of hearing is a blessing," Sully said.

  "I stopped listening ten seconds in," I said, and he grinned.

  For a few minutes, Sullivan and I just ate. I was starving, I realized. And lobster that was swimming at the bottom of the icy Atlantic a few hours ago, now drenched in butter and served on a soft Portuguese roll...yes, yes, I would run tomorrow. But today, I'd just eat lobster. Eat and ask prying questions, that was.

  "How are things going with your sign language and all?" I asked, licking butter off my fingers in that classy way.

  "It's okay. Kind of hard to learn on your own, so it's good of Audrey to help me. She picks up on it faster than I do."

  I smiled. "She seems really smart."

  "She is."

  I took a sip of my drink and watched him a second. When he looked up from his plate, he said, "Sorry, did I miss something?"

  I shook my head. "But on the subject of what you can't hear...are you okay with that? Are you sad or angry or...depressed?"

  He smiled a little. "Not really. I mean, I've known this was happening for a long time now." His smile faded. "I try to listen to things more, try to store them up. The birds in the morning. Favorite music. Audrey's laugh. Trying to fill up my head with the best sounds. Been watching a lot of home movies lately." He gave a half shrug and looked back at his plate.

  Le sigh. I hoped I wasn't visibly swooning, but I couldn't be sure.

  "What's your favorite music?" I asked.

  "Bach's cello suites," he said. "Well, that and 'Purple Rain.'"

  "God, I love that song! And I used to listen to Bach's cello suites when I was pulling an all-nighter in med school," I said, smiling. "It was supposed to help with studying."

  "I guess it worked," he said.

  When he smiled, I could see that his incisors were just a little more pointed than average, giving him a vampiric look. I pictured those teeth on my neck and my girl parts gave a mighty throb.

  "So why did you come back here, Nora Stuart? You, who haven't been back in all this time?"

  It was his voice. His soft, deep voice, and I hoped he could hear it, because it was so delicious, that voice, the timbre and hint of roughness in it, like the stones on the shore tumbling over each other after a hard ocean wave.

  I cleared my throat. "What was the question again?"

  Another wicked smile. A dastardly, bad-boy smile on this ultimate dad. "Why'd you come back to Scupper?"

  "Oh. Yeah. I was hit by a pest control van. Beantown Bug Killers. My life flashed before my eyes."

  "Did it?"

  "No, actually. But I...I wanted to spend some time with my mom. And my niece."

  "Scared you good, did it?"

  I nodded.

  "And that thing...that not-good thing that happened to you. The thing you mentioned the night you almost shot me. Was that being hit by pest control?"

  I picked up a sweet potato fry and broke it in half. "No."

  He waited.

  "A man broke into my house and beat me up and tried to rape me, and then when that didn't work out, he, uh, he tried to kill me. With a knife. But I got away, and they never caught him, and that was last year, and please don't tell my mother."

  I sucked in a breath and grabbed my mojito and drained it. Didn't quite mean to dump the worst night of my life in his lap, but there it was.

  "How is everything?" Brian asked, appearing with a huge smile. "Gotta love that lobster, am I right? We buy it right off the--"

  "Not now," Sullivan said.

  "Got it!" Brian said. "Call when you need me!"

  He left, and the quiet floated down around us again.

  Sullivan didn't say anything.

  "Freaky story, huh?" I said. I wished I'd ordered another drink.

  "How'd you get away?"

  I sighed. "I just...went. I was lucky. I ran. I didn't... I didn't even know what he was planning."

  "Yes, you did. You knew."

  He was right. I had known. Lizard Brain hadn't said the word knife or killed, but it had said the word now.

  "You were more than lucky. Jesus." He took a deep breath. "Good for you, Nora. Good for you."

  I looked down at the table. "Thank you."

  Sully reached across and tilted my chin up so he could see m
y face.

  "Thank you," I repeated.

  This time, his smile was gentle. "You're an impressive person," he said, and I laughed. "You want dessert? Seems like you earned it."

  I suddenly wanted to be naked and in bed with the man in front of me.

  "How we doing, kids?" Brian sang.

  Not that man. Sullivan.

  "We'll take the check," I said.

  "You got it," Brian said. "Back in a flash, you two!"

  "I hate that guy," Sullivan said, and I laughed so long and hard tears ran down my face.

  Sully just sat back, watching me and smiling.

  *

  Unfortunately, by the time we got back to the houseboat, I was all nerves and idiocy.

  Why? Because it was Sullivan Fletcher, a boy I'd known my entire life. A man now, a man whose daughter looked up to me, a man who'd been married to one of the girls who'd left scars on my adolescent soul, a man whose brother and mother hated me, etc.

  Also, there was Bobby. Not Bobby, not really, but...he'd confused me again, this time by sending a very romantic email, this time detailing all the stuff we used to do before the Big Bad Event. My old life, my Perez self.

  I wasn't staying on Scupper Island forever. I wasn't sure I should start something with Sully, no matter how many pheromones were clogging the air, and yeah, it was childish and dopey, but I wasn't sure I could be my Perez self when Sully had known my island self. I realized that was stupid and dopey and childish, but I also knew Sully deserved me to mull that over before anything happened between us.

  He was far, far too good to be someone's summer fling.

  He turned off the engine. "I'll walk you in," he said.

  Shit. How would I tell him no? He was too delicious, too nice, that voice, those eyes, that sense of calm and granite reliability, and also, remember that hug after Audrey's diagnosis? That. Yes.

  Boomer barked sharply. "It's me, buddy," I said. He barked again, not happy about Sullivan (or not happy that he wasn't being allowed to leg-hump Sullivan, more likely).

  Sully and I stood outside the door, moths fluttering around the light.

  I would have to reject him now. Damn. That would not feel good.

  "Thank you for dinner," I said. "I had a really nice time."

  "Me, too," he said. "Thanks for coming out on such short notice."

  Maybe I'd let him kiss me. That would be okay, wouldn't it? And then, once he kissed me, I was pretty sure sexy time would be inevitable.

  "Good night," he said at the same second I said, "Want to come in?"

  "Excuse me?" he said, and yeah, yeah, I was glad he was hearing impaired. Sue me.