Chapter Six #2
The waitress disappeared toward the kitchen with our order, leaving the murmur of conversation and the rush of the river beyond the windows to fill the comfortable silence between us.
I had long since learned not to feel awkward when conversations paused.
Silence had been part of my world since I was six years old, and along the way I'd discovered that the people worth knowing never felt compelled to fill every empty moment with words.
Mason seemed content watching the river.
A sleek white cruiser eased past the restaurant, its wake rocking several smaller pleasure boats tied to the marina downstream.
Near the opposite bank, a pair of kayakers paddled steadily against the current, weaving around a cluster of ducks shepherding half a dozen fluffy ducklings toward the reeds.
Sunlight danced across the moving water, throwing shimmering reflections onto the underside of the bridge a little further upstream, and I found myself watching Mason watching the river rather than the scenery itself.
There was an openness about him I hadn't expected.
Most people arriving at Evergreen carried themselves cautiously during their first few days, measuring every word as they tried to work out where they belonged within an already established team.
Mason seemed different. He observed everything around him with genuine interest rather than uncertainty, taking it all in without pretending to know more than he did.
Eventually his attention shifted back toward me.
"So...tell me something about yourself."
His hand reached toward the pocket where his phone rested before he caught himself halfway through the movement. A sheepish grin spread across his face.
"I was about to text you."
I laughed silently, shaking my head before quickly typing a reply.
I'm mute, not deaf.
His eruption of laughter turned several heads from nearby tables before he lowered his voice.
"Fair point. I deserved that."
The easy humor dissolved whatever lingering uncertainty remained between us.
I rested my elbows on the table before answering.
Tell me about Florida. Your family still lives there?
His expression softened.
"Yeah. Mom, Dad and my twin sister, Emma, are all still in Tampa."
Twin?
For some reason, that surprised me.
He smiled as though anticipating my next question.
"Most people expect us to be identical. We're nothing alike in physical appearance or nature. Emma got all the artistic talent. I inherited whatever sporting genes were floating around."
I smiled, encouraging him to continue.
"Dad, Richard, is a corporate attorney. He specializes in mergers and acquisitions, spends half his life negotiating deals worth more money than I can wrap my head around.
" He laughed before taking a sip of water.
"Mom-Victoria, is a cardiovascular surgeon, so between the two of them there was never much chance of anyone accusing my family of lacking ambition. "
Neither profession surprised me. Everything about Mason suggested he'd grown up in an environment where success was expected rather than merely encouraged.
"My sister completely ruined their plans.
" Amusement warmed his voice. "Emma's studying Art History at Tampa University.
She loves Renaissance paintings, ancient sculpture, and restoration work.
Dad still insists she'll wake up one morning and decide to study law instead because, in his opinion, Art History is one of those modern degrees that sounds interesting but doesn't lead anywhere. "
I couldn't help smiling.
What does your mother think?
"She makes Dad crazy by encouraging her." He chuckled again. "Mom keeps reminding him that happiness matters more than a job title. Emma's always known exactly who she is, and Mom's proud of her for refusing to let anyone—including Dad—change her mind."
Mason's words settled deep inside me, awakening an unexpected ache. He had a family that argued, laughed, and still stood firmly behind one another. A family that sounded...whole.
He leaned back in his chair, studying me with curiosity.
"What about you? Medicine couldn't have been an easy choice."
I considered the question before answering. Not because I needed time to think about the answer, but because finding the right words was never easy.
Medicine wasn't the difficult choice. Convincing other people I belonged there was.
Mason waited patiently while I continued.
A lot of people assumed being unable to speak automatically meant I couldn't communicate well enough to become a doctor. Some believed patients wouldn't trust me. Others questioned how I'd function during emergencies. A few lecturers were supportive from the beginning. Others needed convincing.
Mason frowned.
"That's ridiculous."
I shrugged lightly.
People tend to focus on what they think I can't do instead of everything I can.
The waitress arrived with our meals before Mason could reply, setting a generous bowl of house-made fettuccine coated in a creamy garlic parmesan sauce in front of Mason before placing my seafood linguine beside it.
The aroma alone made the wait worthwhile.
Large prawns, scallops and mussels rested among ribbons of fresh pasta, finished with herbs and shaved parmesan, while Mason's chicken had been grilled until the edges carried just enough char to complement the rich sauce.
He shovelled a mouthful into his mouth and moaned.
"I can already tell this was the right choice."
I smiled before picking up my fork.
The first few minutes passed in companionable silence as we concentrated on our meals.
Around us, lunchtime conversations blended into a pleasant background murmur, occasionally interrupted by the clink of cutlery against plates or laughter drifting across the room.
Outside, another pleasure boat eased along the river, its passengers waving toward children feeding ducks from the riverside path.
The relaxed atmosphere made it easy to forget we still had a late afternoon video session waiting for us back at the arena.
Mason laid his fork down.
"So how do you handle clinical placements?"
Preparation. Lots of it.
He watched me type.
Most patients know before I walk into the room that I'm mute. My supervising doctors explain it first, and I always introduce myself with my phone. Once people realize I understand everything they're telling me and I'm listening properly, they relax surprisingly quickly.
His attention never left the screen.
In the operating room it's even easier than most people expect.
Everyone communicates with hand signals, eye contact, and established routines.
The surgical team knows how I work, and I know how they work.
We adapt to complement each other's strengths and weaknesses. That's what medicine is supposed to do.
Mason sat back, genuine admiration filling his expression.
"I never thought about it like that."
Neither did most people.
He remained quiet before asking the question I knew would eventually come.
"So why ENT?"
I considered the question.
There were dozens of answers I could have given…
I enjoyed the precision of microsurgery.
I found the anatomy fascinating.
The specialty combined medicine with delicate reconstructive procedures.
Every one of those answers was true.
None of them explained the reason my heart had settled on otolaryngology years ago.
My thumbs moved slowly across the keyboard.
I love everything about the specialty. The surgery, the patients, the complexity...it just feels right.
It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the entire truth. Fortunately, Mason seemed content to accept the answer.
Neither of us noticed more than an hour had passed.
Eventually the empty plates were cleared away, and we wandered down to the riverside walkway.
Cyclists glided along the paved path, couples strolled beneath the cottonwoods, and the ducks we'd watched earlier were still drifting close to the reeds with their ducklings paddling faithfully behind them.
The river flowed past with the same steadiness it had when we'd arrived, inviting us to slow our pace and enjoy the afternoon a little longer.
Mason slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as we strolled beside the river, neither of us in any particular hurry to return to campus.
"It's beautiful here."
One of my favorite places to think.
He read the screen before looking out across the water again.
"I can understand why."
For several more minutes we walked without speaking, our shoulders brushing occasionally whenever the path narrowed. The silence felt as comfortable as it had all morning, neither of us needing words simply because they were available.
Without any warning, Mason's hand found mine and every thought in my head vanished.
I looked down at our joined hands then back at his face, certain my expression reflected every ounce of surprise, uncertainty, and hope colliding inside me.
He didn't let go. Instead, his fingers tightened around mine.
"I probably should've told you this earlier." His voice remained calm despite the uncertainty flickering in his expression. "I'm gay."
The confession settled between us and I felt an unexpected wave of relief wash through me.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I unlocked my phone.
So am I.