19. Far More Dangerous
FAR MORE DANGEROUS
“Ihave to say I really enjoy this little island,” Martha Brewer said. “Though I can’t wait to explore Boston.”
“It’s nice here,” Luca said.
His mother was in the kitchen and baking the turkey breast that he’d picked up a few days ago. Since it was the three of them, they didn’t need a whole bird.
Potatoes were in the water ready to be turned on, rice and beef stuffing made last night and only had to be warmed, and the green beans and carrots in pots also.
A bigger meal than he’d had in ages, but it felt nice at the same time. Just like it did having his parents here in his rented house.
“You haven’t really made it much of a home,” his mother said.
“Martha, cut him some slack,” Paul Brewer said. “He didn’t decorate his apartment and he lived there for two years.”
“There isn’t much to do. I’m not going to hang pictures. Not that I have any. I can’t paint anything. What more is there?”
“You’ve got a point. But I love the vase you bought me. You could get things like that.”
“I could, and maybe I will. At some point.”
“If you’re comfortable here that is good enough,” his father said.
“I am. I enjoy working here. The days I’m on rotation, they fly by, but in a good way. The ten days off seem to be longer.”
“Are you still doing things with Gabriela?”
It was the first her name came up. He was surprised it’d taken as long as it had for that to happen.
“We went to a fundraiser here on the island on Saturday. That’s where I got that vase. It was auctioned off. She introduced me to other medical professionals I should know. Parents with kids in the area. Things like that.”
“That sounds like a great way to get out and meet people,” her mother said. “Or is it just Gabriela who you wanted to be with?”
He was trying to think if his mother had asked this many questions when he was dating Zoe or not. It was so long ago, he wasn’t sure.
She probably had.
But by the time he’d told them about Zoe, it was already serious. Established. Safe.
What he had with Gabriela was nothing like that.
It was far more complicated than friendship, and far more dangerous to name.
“Well?” his father asked. “You didn’t answer her.”
He set his glass down, suddenly aware of how the air shifted in the kitchen. “It’s not like that,” he said carefully. “She’s been helpful. Friendly.”
“Helpful rarely comes with fundraisers and daytime plans together,” his mother said.
“She lives on the island,” he replied. “She knows people. I don’t. It makes sense.”
His father studied him. “Do you like her?”
The question landed harder than he expected. On one hand, it felt juvenile to ask it. On the other intrusive.
But under it all he knew it came from a place of caring.
“I like a lot of people,” he said. Too quickly.
His mother sighed. “We’re not trying to interrogate you.”
“It feels that way to me.”
“We’re trying to understand.” Her voice was gentler this time around. The caring came out again. The concern. Maybe there was part of him that had been escaping that when he left also. “You’ve been alone a long time.”
That word—alone—caught something in his throat. It felt like an insult to him now.
“I’m not alone,” he said. “I have work. Friends. A life.”
One friend. Somewhat of a life.
More than he had before so that was something in his eyes.
His father nodded. “We know. We just don’t want you shutting the door on something good because it’s complicated.”
He walked to the fridge and got another beer. Looked like he needed it. “Some things aren’t meant to be simple.”
“And some things are only complicated because we’re afraid of them,” his mother said.
He looked up then and nearly bit his tongue before he said, “I’m not afraid.”
His father gave a quiet, knowing smile. “That’s usually when people are.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time. Thicker, making him wish he’d told his parents it wasn’t a good time to visit.
What he wouldn’t do to have Gabriela next to him. Making him laugh. Making him not feel as if he was under attack again.
He poured his beer, then took a sip.
“I’m taking things slow,” he said finally. “That’s all.”
His mother nodded, accepting the answer even if her look said she didn’t believe it.
“For now,” his mother said.
And somehow, that was worse.
He escaped to the back porch under the excuse of needing air three hours later. The early night pressed in around him, quiet except for the light breeze. He pulled out his phone before he could overthink it, then sent a text to see if Gabriela was at the hospital.
His guess, she was back doing rounds.
It rang in his hand before he got a reply.
“Tell me this is not an emergency,” she said. “Because I’m in scrubs and emotionally unavailable for chaos with a stuffed belly. Thank God for the scrubs. That part was planned, but the belly, not so much.”
Relief hit him so hard he laughed. “No chaos. Just parental questioning.”
“You too, huh,” she said. “Level one or level five questioning?”
“Five,” he said. “With follow-ups in the guise of concern.”
“Same,” she said immediately, then burst out laughing. “Hang on, I’m speed-walking to an empty room. Found one.”
“Is it quiet there?”
“Four kids. Not bad. After the questions I got, I almost thought of faking an emergency and escaping. Garrett owes me, but he was right there with my parents so I couldn’t lean on him tonight.”
“Huh?”
As confused as he was, she was at least taking his mind off of what his parents put him through.
“Garrett had this neighbor who was always hitting on him. Older than him and he was a wuss. Couldn’t tell her to get lost. She came over one day with wine and trapped him on his deck.
He snuck in and texted me to call him, that it was an emergency.
The minute I do, he answers like he’s taking an emergency call and gets her to leave. ”
“That’s low,” he said, laughing.
“I thought so too and I knew exactly why he did it. I told him he’d owe me. I’ve never taken him up on it and trust me when I say I’ve had some bad dates.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because I let no one know I’m a doctor so that defeats it. Besides, he’s my older brother, so I don’t need him to think he has to save me.”
“Something tells me you rarely need saving.”
“If you told me that at the last mixer I was at, I’d call you a liar and throw a glass of wine in your face.”
“No, you’d down the wine because you’d feel you needed it.”
“Oh, you know me so well.” He heard the bed creak and assumed she’d sat down. “So how bad was it really with your parents? What’s going on?”
“I just survived a full interrogation at my dining table. I think my mother refuses to believe that I might actually have a life here. Or even a friend.”
“Singular or plural friends?”
“I hear the humor in your voice.” And felt the smile widen on his face.
“That’s why you called me. You needed it. So, did you confess?”
“I told her I’m fine and there is no reason to worry. Your name came up. I said we were friends,” he said. “She didn’t sound like she was buying it.”
“Parents have that gift,” she said. “They can sense vulnerability from miles away.”
“And then poke it with a hot stick right in a raw wound,” he added.
“That’s the spirit. Glad you’re finding humor in it. I had the same thing happen. Everyone ganged up on me. I said you were nice. That was my downfall.”
“How is that possible?”
“Because I don’t normally talk about nice men, so you know, there are expectations and doubts across the board.”
“Doubts that I’m nice or that we are just friends? I mean, that’s what we are. It’s not like we’ve shared a kiss or anything.”
When silence greeted him, he wondered if he fumbled that too badly.
If he rushed too fast.
If he turned humor into the uncomfortable.
“No, we haven’t. And the fact you brought that up when I’m working isn’t fair. You know, I can’t hide under the covers like I did when my mother walked in on me texting you Saturday night.”
“You didn’t tell me that part,” he said, leaning against the railing. His parents were in the living room and couldn’t hear him.
“I was just getting warmed up too. I’m lucky that when I tossed my phone under the pillow it didn’t send you a bunch of jumbled letters.”
“Then I might really wonder what you were doing with your... hands.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice loud. Then she lowered it. “I’m at work. No fair. If you’re going to play dirty, I’ll have to think of some payback.”
He exhaled, the knot in his chest loosening. The tightness in his belly going with it. “I needed a friendly voice.”
“You’ll always get one with me,” she said. Her voice was still cheerful.
“One that wouldn’t ask me if I’m afraid of being alone. Otherwise I might not have sent up the flare tonight.”
“A text is a flare,” she said. “Good to know.”
“It can be one.”
“I would never ask that. If you were lonely or afraid of being alone. I’d ask if you were afraid of being boring. That’s much worse in my eyes.”
He laughed. “I’m sure it is.”
“You okay now?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m better. Thanks.”
“Good,” she replied. “Because I needed this too. I was about five minutes away from stress-cleaning the fridge in the break room looking for chocolate.”
“That’s scary territory.”
“Very. Who knows what strange things could be hiding in there for months.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “This call may have saved calories and emergency bathroom visits.”
She laughed, the sound of it tingling almost on his fingertips. True laughter.
“I was thinking the same thing! So thanks for that too.”
He stared out into the dark, smiling to himself. “I’ll repay the favor.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Luca.”
“You know, I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name to my face.”
And the feelings it invoked might be more than he’d bargained for. But not enough for him to stop either.
“I’m not in your face though,” she argued. “But I will be again, and when I am, I’ll make sure to say it. Only I’ll say it lower. Deeper. Rougher.”
He gulped.
“Conversation over,” he said. “I’m waving the flag, because my parents are in the house.”
“And now I think we’re even. Have a good night.”
She hung up on him.
Just as easily as she made him laugh.