Now That You Mention It

by Kristan Higgins

  Just then, my phone chimed with a text from Jake Ferriman. Ferry canceled because of weather. Check back at 7 a.m. for next available.

  "Shit," I muttered.

  "What is it?"

  "My ferry got canceled."

  "Yeah, a big rain's coming in." He tilted his head. "Let's have dinner. You can stay over if you want." He reached out and touched my cheek, and no, thank you, it was a little too reminiscent of last year, when my face had been swollen and bruised and throbbed with every beat of my heart, when Bobby had taken care of me. Good care, mind you. Until he got tired of it.

  "No, thanks." I bent down and kissed my dog's head. "Be a good boy, Boomer. I'll miss you." I looked at Bobby. "See you soon."

  "You sure you don't want to stay?" He gave me a soulful look.

  "I'm sure. Thank you, though."

  Out on Beacon Street--because Bobby had really, really wanted a Beacon Street address, even though it cost the earth and my old apartment had been bigger and nicer and cheaper--I texted Roseline and told her I was in town for the night.

  Get your ass over here! she wrote back. This is the best news ever!

  I sighed with relief. Thank God for female friends.

  *

  Roseline did everything for me that I would've done for her--she fed me, gave me wine, loaned me soft, clean pajamas and urged me to take a bath in the enormous tub in the guest bathroom. Her husband was a sweetheart, the kind of guy who was great at chatting but also who knew when to leave.

  I didn't tell her about seeing Voldemort. There didn't seem to be any point.

  I called the clinic and told them I was stuck in Boston; a few minutes later, Gloria called and told me she'd left via Portland, driving up the coast so she could see another sibling's new baby. "Dr. Larsen will cover," she said, referring to our on-call night doctor. "He loves being needed. Don't worry."

  "Did you have fun with Slytherin?" I asked.

  "I did," she said. "Gave him three guesses as to where I lived, and he got them all wrong. And we had a little fight, which was kind of fun."

  "I take it you made up."

  "Yep. He texted me an hour ago, begging forgiveness."

  "A great quality in a man." That was one of the things about Bobby--getting him to apologize was akin to extracting bone marrow.

  "You have fun with Roseline," she said. "Tell her I said hi."

  I didn't sleep well. Then again, I didn't have a panic attack, either, or a nightmare. I just thought.

  In the morning, the rain whipped against the windows. "Want me to call in?" Roseline offered. She was already dressed for work, and Amir had left. "We can go to a museum, get a pedicure, whatever you want."

  "No, that's okay," I said. "Actually, I want to swing by the hospital. My friend's daughter is having surgery today. Pituitary tumor. Cushing's disease."

  "Well, let's go, then, chouchoute." Rosie's office was just down the block from Boston City.

  On the way there, I got a text from Jake Ferriman that he was running, rain or no rain. I wrote back and told him I'd catch the later boat, or go to Portland and to Scupper from there.

  The differences between New England's biggest hospital and the island clinic were vast. The clinic could be as tranquil as a yoga studio. In fact, I'd found Amelia in lotus position in her office, sound asleep, last week.

  But I did love working there more than I expected. At my Boston practice, I'd see upward of a dozen patients a day. On procedures days, it might be six or seven. I loved my field, but the clinic gave me more variety. Jimmy McNulty, who needed eight stitches when he fell off the monkey bars in the park. Aaron James had had food poisoning (those expiration dates mean something, people!). He was so dehydrated from vomiting and diarrhea that I had him stay overnight. I'd stayed, too, just because he was a widower (gay, though, so not a contender for stepfather, unfortunately). Since he had no family on the island, I slept in another bay, checking on him every two hours, chatting when he started feeling better.

  And I loved my coworkers. Gloria and Timmy were rock-solid nurses, unfazed by anything we'd seen so far, even the patient with the foreign body in her vajay-jay--a perfume bottle--that she most assuredly did not sit on, despite her claims. (Nice try. I'd seen at least half a dozen of those cases during my residency.) Gloria and I had gone to a movie the other night at the island's tiny theater and giggled inappropriately through the previews.

  Here at Boston City, there were more employees than residents of Scupper Island. I smiled and waved to the folks I knew, stopped to talk to Del, my favorite CNA, then made my way to the surgical floor. Checked in with the nurse on duty, flashed my hospital badge and asked after Audrey. She'd gone into the OR about an hour ago. Dr. Einstein (such a reassuring name, and a wicked nice guy) was her surgeon.

  "Mind if I check in?" I asked.

  "Be my guest," said the nurse.

  I went to the OR, the thrill of getting the behind-the-scenes pass still with me. For obvious reasons, I couldn't just burst in, no matter what they showed on Grey's Anatomy. There was, however, a window and an intercom. I couldn't see Audrey--she was surrounded by three surgeons, the anesthesiologist, two OR nurses and a PA.

  I pushed the button. "Hi, Dr. Einstein, it's Nora Stuart, Audrey's referring physician. Just wanted to see how she was doing."

  "She's doing beautifully," he said. "Vitals strong and steady, and a beautiful siting of the tumor." Doctorspeak for I won't have to muck around in her brain all that much. It was fantastic news.

  "I'll tell her parents. Thank you so much." I said a quick prayer that the rest of the surgery would go smoothly, then went back down the hall.

  There in the waiting room sat Sullivan, arms folded over his chest, scowling at the floor, clenched tight as a fist.

  He was alone.

  "Hey," I said. He didn't look up.

  I went over and sat next to him. "Hey," I repeated.

  He jumped. "Is she okay?" he asked.

  "She's great," I said. "I just checked in with the surgeon. It's going really well."

  He swallowed, nodded, then ran a hand across his eyes. "I thought you were about to say...something else. What are you doing here?"

  "Ferry was canceled last night. I stayed with a friend." He gave a nod. "Sully, I know it sucks to have a kid in the OR, but this is not a complicated surgery." It wasn't a cakewalk, either, but it had a very high success rate.

  "Say that when it's your kid."

  I smiled. "I can't even imagine." I looked around the waiting room. There was an elderly woman with her middle-aged daughter and a woman sleeping on the couch, her mouth slack. "Where's Amy?"

  Sullivan shook his head a fraction. "She had to go back home. Rocco's got a cold." He looked at his hands, and his jaw grew tight.

  "I see."

  "Hospitals freak her out, anyway. She wasn't doing much good here, so she took the ferry this morning."

  "Why do hospitals freak her out?" I asked.

  "Because I was in one for so long," he said.

  Oh, God. Of course.

  But still. Her daughter was in the OR under general anesthesia with a metal cannula scraping a tumor off a gland in her brain. And Sully was by himself.

  I touched his arm again. "I'll stay with you, if you want."

  He looked at me with those dark, lovely eyes, which grew wet again. He gave the Yankee nod and looked back at the floor.

  What the heck. I slid my hand into his and gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, his hand big and rough and calloused.

  He didn't let go.

  20

  I stayed with Sullivan the entire three hours of the operation, and when Dr. Einstein came in to say she was in Recovery and things had gone "perfectly," Sully turned and gave me a long hug.

  "Can I see her?" he asked, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. All this weepiness over his daughter...it was damn hard to resist. The doctor said absolutely, though she'd be groggy.

  "I'll check back with you in a few hours," I
said. "Give her my love."

  "Thank you," Sullivan said. He started to say something else, then changed his mind and left the waiting room.

  "Nice catch, by the way," Dr. Einstein said to me, holding the door for Sully. "A lot of doctors might've missed the diagnosis." He winked and then guided Sullivan down the hall.

  Einstein told me I was smart. Maybe I'd get a tattoo of those words.

  I checked my phone--three texts. One from Rosie urging me to stay over again, another from Bobby with a picture of Boomer on our--his--bed and the last one from Poe. is today audrey's surgery? tell her i said good luck & see her when she gets home.

  Good girl, Poe. I texted her back, said Audrey was doing well and asked if she'd come for dinner tomorrow night.

  She wrote back immediately. okay. thx.

  Underneath her bad attitude was a good kid waiting to come out, I was sure of it.

  Then again, I'd thought the same thing about Lily, hadn't I?

  No. Maybe it was my cynical age back then, but I never did believe there was a better version of my sister. It died when our father left us.

  The next ferry wasn't till six this evening. I called my office, told them I was in town and asked if they needed me. "Want to take two colonoscopies?" Angela asked. "Waterman had an emergency, and you'd save my ass. And the patients'!" She laughed merrily.

  So I went down the street to our offices and chatted with the other docs and nurses and Angela, who ran the practice, and did the colonoscopies, which aren't as horrible as you might think, especially because of the first-rate drugs we used. Snipped a couple of polyps, sent them to Pathology, did paperwork.

  Around three, my phone rang. It was Sullivan.

  "Audrey's kicking me out for a couple hours," he said. "I don't know why, since I'm father of the year here." I heard a voice in the background. "She wants to talk to you," he said.

  "Hi," said Audrey, her voice sounding like she had a bad cold.

  "Hi, Audrey!"

  "God, Dad, the volume on this phone is killer! A little warning next time? Hi, Nora."

  "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

  "Kind of gross, but super happy this is over with. Do you know when I'll start...you know? Improving?" I knew what she meant. When she'd start losing weight, maybe getting a little taller, losing the extra hair and purple marks. After all, I'd been an overweight teenager, too.

  "Well, your endocrinologist can tell you better than I can, but in a couple of months, I think you'll start to see and feel a difference."

  "I can't wait."

  I smiled. "I hear you."

  "So the nurse needs to help me in the shower, and my dad won't leave. He's like the world's most irritating dog." She said this last part very clearly, obviously wanting her father to hear.

  "I'm at my office right down the street. Want me to drag him out for a little while?"

  "Oh, my God, yes! That would be fantastic. Dad, Nora's coming to take you for a walk. Wanna go for a walk, boy? A walk?"

  "You can stop that now," he said in the background. I could hear the smile in his voice.

  "Tell him I'll be there in fifteen minutes," I said. "Do you need anything?"

  "I'm all set. Thanks, Nora. You're the best!"

  *

  The weather had cleared, the sun was shining, the rain now out to sea. "We can just go around the block," Sully said after I'd led him outside. He glanced up at the hospital as if he could see into Audrey's room.

  "I told her I'd keep you out for two hours," I said. "Don't make me lie to a child." I took his arm and dragged him down the block. It wasn't easy. He was like a truculent four-year-old, going all stiff on me.

  "Two hours is way, way too long."

  "Sully, she's fifteen. She wants to pee and poop without her father in the next room, listening. She wants to take a shower and get into her own pajamas and text her friends. She'll be fine."

  "Well, I don't agree. I think I should be there. She's sick."

  "No, she's been sick, and now she's recovering. And, man, how happy is she, right?"

  This got a smile. Then his eyes got shiny again. "I never really knew how unhappy she was with...you know. Being a little chubby."

  From my limited knowledge of Audrey, I bet she was protecting her dad from her own misery. My admiration for her shot up a notch. Me, I'd bled misery all over the place. It never occurred to me to hide it.

  "She adores you," I said. "The best thing in a girl's life is a father she can count on."

  Well. Didn't I sound like a Facebook meme. I felt my face get hot and looked down the street. But Sully nudged my shoulder with his. "Thanks," he said, a slight smile on his face. "Any luck finding yours, by the way?"

  I shook my head.

  "How long has it been?" he asked.

  "More than twenty years."

  "Jeezum crow."

  The legendary Boston traffic was picking up, so talking wasn't really an option for people with hearing issues. We walked in silence for a little while. When we hit Thoreau Path, I realized I was heading for home.

  My old home. My apartment in the North End.

  "Where are we going, anyway?" Sully asked, studying my face so he wouldn't miss my answer.

  "Um...I don't know. I was on autopilot, I guess." I flexed my hands, which were tingling. "Want to see where I used to live?"

  "Sure. If you want to show me."

  "I haven't been back there since...since I left."

  Sully took my hand in his. Didn't say anything.

  "Okay," I said. "Let's go, then." Brave. Strong. And this time, with a guy who'd spent the morning being brave and strong, as well. I could do this.

  It wasn't the most scenic walk--the ubiquitous Boston construction, the rude drivers, the blaring of horns, the hulking gray Boston Garden. But once we got into the North End, things improved.

  I turned onto my street, not quite sure what I was feeling. Nostalgic for the happiness I once had, the simplicity of my life back then, when work and friends were just about all I thought of. Tyrese, the sweet security guard who used to carry spiders out on a piece of paper rather than step on them.

  "This is it," I said, stopping in front of the modern building.

  "Nice."

  "It was. It is."

  "You want to go inside?" he asked.

  "Sure."

  Now my heart started kicking. The last time I'd walked into this lobby was that day, and breathing was suddenly hard. Sully squeezed my hand. We went in, through the glass doors into the cool lobby with its tiled floors and tasteful lounge.

  Tyrese sat behind the desk. He did a double take when he saw me. "Dr. Nora! My God! It's so good to see you!" He came out and gave me a hug, practically crushing me. When he let me go, his eyes were wet. "Look at you. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

  The last time he'd seen me, I'd been wearing Jim Amberson's bathrobe and smelled like urine and was being carried out by paramedics. "Hey, Tyrese," I said, and my voice was husky. "This is my friend, Sullivan Fletcher."

  "Great to meet you, man, great to meet you." Tyrese pumped Sully's hand. "This lady here, she's the best."

  Sullivan smiled.

  "We were just in the neighborhood, Tyrese," I said. "Figured I'd stop in and say hi. How are your kids?"

  "They're great. Growing so fast." He smiled. "It's so good to see you, Doc."

  "It's good to see you, too." I hesitated. "Is anyone in my apartment?"

  He gave a half nod. "They repainted it and put in new cameras on the exterior, so nothing like that would ever happen again. A couple lives there now. Nice enough."

  "Good. I loved that place." I took a breath. "Well, tell the Ambersons hi for me, okay?"

  "I will. You take care, Doc. Take good care." He hugged me again, and Sully and I left.

  "Let's get you back to the hospital," I said.

  He looked at me a long minute, then nodded. Took my hand again, and graciously didn't say anything as the tears slipped out of my eyes.


  When we got back to the hospital lobby, I walked over to the elevator with him. "I'm gonna try to catch the six o'clock ferry," I said. It was just five now.

  "Okay."

  A man of few words. We got off on the surgical floor and went to Audrey's room.

  "Hi, Daddy!" she said. She looked refreshed--no one looks great immediately after having surgery. Now her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had a dinner tray in front of her.

  "Hi, baby," he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

  "How do you feel, Audrey?" I asked.

  "Fine. Excellent." She beamed.

  "Poe said to say hi, and she'll see you back home."

  Audrey beamed even more. "I know! She texted me."

  "Maybe we can have another sleepover when you feel up to it."

  "Sure! That'd be great!" My heart squeezed at her enthusiasm. I loved this kid, no doubt.

  "Okay, I should get going," I said. "Call me if you need me, okay? You, too, Sullivan."

  He gave a nod and followed me out into the hallway. "You want to go out with me when we get back and Audrey's feeling better?"

  "On a date?"

  "On a date." The corner of his mouth pulled up.

  All the reasons I had for not dating Sullivan Fletcher seemed to evaporate. My mouth was suddenly dry. "Okay. Yes. Sure. Yeah." I took a breath and told myself to calm down. "Now that I've given you four affirmative answers, I think I can go."

  His smile widened.

  "Bye, Sully. Thanks for today."

  "Bye, Nora. Thank you for today."

  I smiled all the way back to the ferry. And halfway to Maine, too.

  21

  On the following Thursday, I convinced Gloria and Xiaowen to come to hug therapy with me. I'd seen a flyer at Lala's that morning and almost choked on my coffee. Hug Therapy from Hug Therapist Sharon Stuart, HT (for Hug Therapist, I presumed). All Are Welcome. Hugging Only, No Groping. 7 p.m. It must be serious if it cut into Wheel of Fortune time.

  Mom's little project, which she wouldn't discuss with me, had mushroomed, apparently. She had to relocate to the basement of St. Mary's of the Sea Catholic Church, where we all now stood, waiting for the recovering addicts--Luke not among them--to trickle out.

  Poe was here as well, suffering mightily as demonstrated by heaving sighs and the gnawing of her fingernails. "Why are you here?" she asked. "I had to come to collect money, but you're free and adults. You should be drinking cocktails somewhere."

  "Hear, hear," murmured Xiaowen. "Then again, the pageantry, the splendor that is hug therapy."