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A Tactile Lifestyle
by vodka straight

[ * ]

"Okay, well, I'd better get going." Nina said, rolling up the paper bagel bag she'd brought with her and grabbing her things.

She picked everything up quickly and walked brusquely to Andy. She reached him and kissed him, firmly and fully on the lips. Her lips remained like that, dryly, surely pressed up against his for a very long moment.

Andy didn't move at all but to close his eyes when he first felt that contact. The air stopped moving and the sun stopped shinning and everything was still for him, as though he were having a heart attack without the pain.

Ephraim walked into the room, and stopped cold as he saw them. Nina broke the kiss quickly, the world fell back into place, and she grabbed her purse from the counter calmly, comfortably, and smiled briefly at both bewildered men. "Good luck today, Andy." She said sweetly. "I'll be by to pick up Delia and bring her to the hospital."

And with that, Nina left the room. A few seconds later Ephraim and Andy heard the front door open and close.

Andy stood ridged, staring out the kitchen door. The strange thing was, he could still feel her. He could still smell her clean, slow, subtle scent so near his face.

"I ... I don't know what that was." He said quietly, still somewhere inside a memory.

"That was a kiss."

"Yes ... yes." Andy said, nodding and looking at Ephraim. "That was a kiss."

"Did she kiss you?" Ephraim asked, disbelieving.

"Yes, I guess so." Andy shook his head. "But-"

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing." Andy said lightly, hidden in amazment. "I didn't say a thing to her."

"Then what happened?" Ephraim asked, losing patience.

"I- I honestly don't know. She just- she kissed me."

"She's married, isn't she?" Ephraim asked. "She's married to Carl."

"I don't think that was what we thought that that was."

Ephraim shook his head. "That was no good luck kiss, dad. I'm telling you."

Andy shook his head. "I don't know. She knows I'll need a lot of luck."

***

"Nina, could I talk to you?" Andy asked softly, trying to talk around the hospital waiting room's celebrating joy and relief.

"Sure, what do you need?" Nina asked, smiling broadly and unassumingly. Andy almost shook his head and said "nothing".

"In private, maybe?" he suggested politely.

"Oh, sure." Nina replied. Andy pointed toward the doors to the hallway, and she nodded. He headed out that way, and Nina followed.

Andy pushed through the double doors with Nina on his heals and he turned to face her in the florescent light of the surgeons hallway, a hallway steaming off to all the O.R.s. It was not a rushed or loud hallway, and they were alone in it. It echoed only slightly.

"Andy, I can't begin to tell you how grateful we all are for everything you've done. From the second you showed up here you were this damn town's savior, and you've lived up to it over and over and over ..."

"You kissed me, did you not?"

Nina gaped. "What?"

"Am I mistaken? Did you kiss me this morning, or no?"

"Andy ..."

"Simple yes or no answers are preferred."

Nina looked down and was quiet so long that Andy didn't think she'd answer at all. "Yes, I kissed you." She finally said.

Andy hadn't necessarily been expecting such an easy confession. "What the hell for?"

"I don't know, I don't ... I swear I was leaning in with the absolute intention of kissing you on the cheek, just on the cheek ... and then ..."

"And then my son walked in!" Andy exclaimed. "Explaining our position to him wasn't a fun thing."

"Well, it wasn't like you pulled away!" She suddenly exclaimed, both defensive and offensive at once. Andy paused. Nina felt she'd gained ground. "You didn't even say a word to me when I was leaving about it."

"It's been over a year since I've been kissed like that, Nina, I-I was a little shell-shocked." he shot back. She felt confused.

"Kissed like what?"

Suddenly Andy wished a hundred times over that he hadn't used those words, because now he would have to tell her. He looked down too, now, and he hated that he was suddenly the reduced one in a situation that wasn't his fault. "Like - Like I was married to you." He said slowly. "Kissed like you were my wife."

He felt as though he'd dropped some desperate disguise, some terribly necessary defense. He was naked before her, completely at her mercy, and he couldn't believe how much it frightened him.

Nina paused, and her eyes clouded slightly, and Andy saw. He sighed, and knew what she would make this out to be, when really it was something else entirely.

"Oh ... Andy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, Nina, I don't mean that-"

"I'm losing my marriage."

Andy's eyes snapped up to meet hers, as if to check and make sure she wasn't kidding. When he was satisfied that she wasn't, he spoke.

"What?" he asked quavering.

Nina looked away. "Oh, shit ... Andy, Carl's leaving. Or ... I'm leaving Carl ... we're both leaving each other, I guess." She muttered painfully.

Andy felt a foreign kind of anger sweep him. Nobody got it anymore, did they? Nobody ... "You two seemed so--"

"Well, one of us was." Nina looked down and wiped a tear away that wasn't quite falling yet.

As he was watching her, as he was holding this image of her in his head so that it would mean something besides what it seemed to, all of a sudden Andy could have cried. He could have sat down on the floor against the wall and just wept. Everything happening ... everything piling on top of itself ... the trip to New York ... Colin's brush with death ... his talk with Ephraim ... the kiss ...Her, getting a divorce. Her, crying. She didn't cry. He didn't think he'd ever known her to cry. But he swallowed the frantic emotion and it faded quickly in a way that he could pretend it hadn't ever been there.

"Oh, Nina," He said, putting his arm around her gently, as "friendly" and non-threatening as possible. Just quiet, platonic support, was all.

She looked away jerkily and laughed through tears. "Oh, lord, I'm fine, Andy, I'm fine." But she didn't pull away. She didn't stop crying either.

"Here." he said, awkwardly offering his handkerchief.

"Oh, no, it's okay."

He sighed and felt suddenly firm. "We've known each other more than a year now. Take it."

She paused and then took it. "Thank you."

She wiped her eyes dabbingly with it and returned it.

"I didn't mean to drill you with it, Nina, I just ..."

"I should have said something."

Andy shook his head. "You had no obligation to tell me a thing." But he knew she did. If she thought he didn't, it would make him more sad than angry. He had come to know that there was something here. Something here that meant something without definition.

"Maybe I did." She admitted, and he sighed silently. "Not the kind you mean, but maybe I did. Plus if I was going to be an ass and go around making out with random men ..."

Andy almost laughed but stopped himself. He wished that the story could be told like that, but it wasn't the case. "That wasn't quite how it went."

"Well, but ... you could file a case against me for that, I assume."

This time he had to laugh. "You didn't rape me!"

"It just-- I needed something ... I needed physical contact, I needed ... I needed to know that somebody found me ... something other than repulsive."

"Did Carl say he found you repulsive?" He felt his stomach curl with the thought.

"Not in so many words, but the basic idea ..."

"What a son of a bitch!" Andy exclaimed. "How could he say something like that!"

"No, no, Andy, it's not what you think ..." It was so absurd that Nina was laughing. She felt as if she were in some kind of soap opera. "Carl was ... Carl was gay." She had never imagined herself saying that statement doing anything but crying, but here she was, laughing. Trying hard to keep from falling over, laughing.

"What?" Andy said, a strange, awkward, trying-to-be-amused half-smile on his face.

"He was gay. I guess-I guess he was gay all along. No wonder he found me repulsive, right? I have a vagina!" She was laughing so hard that Andy caught himself smelling for liquor on her breath. Nothing, but still. He felt like he would wake up any minute now.

Andy took Nina by the shoulders and forced her to look at him straight on. "He was gay?" he asked her, in complete seriousness.

"Yes. Yes." She said, nodding, her laughter stopping consciously. It isn't funny, Neen. It isn't. Why was she laughing so hard? All of a sudden it made her feel a little sick. No, a lot sick. "Was, is, and forever will be."

"Jesus Christ." Andy sighed. "Well, that's the best reason I can think of for getting a divorce, so you've got my blessing."

Nina heard the distressed coldness in his voice, the bitter-sounding irony, and was suddenly self-conscious and uncomfortable. She suddenly felt very judged, and she looked away to the side quickly. "Thanks, I guess."

Andy sighed. It took him a minute to kick back in with sanity. "I'm sorry. This has got to be..." he trailed off stupidly.

"It's okay." She said, still turned away, laughing with her own bitterness. "How else would anybody react? 'I know a clinic'?"

And looked down, realizing his own despicable lack of tact. "Yeah, I doubt it."

They were both quiet for a long moment, standing in the empty hall, staring at nothing.

"Well, the point is, that's no excuse for ... attacking you in your own kitchen this morning, and I'm sorry."

Now she was just guilt tripping. But it was okay, because he knew she was trying to escape herself by doing so, trying to draw herself away from Carl. "Nina, you didn't attack me. You just confused me. And ... I think I can sympathize with the need you felt."

Nina looked up. "What do you mean?"

Andy suddenly realized what he'd said, immediately wishing he could pull it back in.

Nina squinted and smiled at him broadly, suddenly amused. "Andy! You're blushing! I don't think I've ever seen you blush."

With this knowledge Andy only felt more heat rush to his face. He turned slightly away. He hid in being a doctor, he hid in words that were big, and easy to hid in. It probably seemed funny and obvious to her, but only because she didn't understand that he was doing it on purpose.

"I meant that hypothetically, after a period of a non-tactile lifestyle, a person who is accustomed to a tactile lifestyle, might-"

"I know what you meant." Nina said. "You meant that after a period of sharing a bed, not sharing a bed might make you feel a little depressed. Might make you want something."

Andy thought she said the word "something" as if it could substitute for only one thing.

"Right. That's basically ... basically it." He said, looking at her straight in the eyes, feeling as though he must be on some kind of drug. He was just tired-exhausted, actually. Sixteen hours on your feet (and on the edge of your mind) will do that to a person. Any person. It had nothing to do with the woman standing in front of him, or her chest's intriguing closeness to his chest, or the sudden, clear memory of her lips pressed dryly against his.

He suddenly had an image of her that morning; Andy had always thought that women looked best when they first woke up. Didn't have on all that make-up ... hadn't fallen completely out of a dream yet. She wore a tank top and sleep-pants with a sweatshirt. Her eyes were bright and held in a state of pleasant newness. Her pale cheeks were a fading pink with the warmth of sleep in summer, like blossoms on snow, and when her arm brushed Andy's hand her skin was tight and hot in a way that immediately came back to him. Her lips were a dark red.

Very suddenly, he wanted badly, with every part of himself, to kiss her again. It was something in her eyes, something curling around inside the color of her eyes, just begging for it. Perhaps something about the half-circle of her lower lip; something about the slight touch of the fingers of her right hand to the inside of her left wrist, just something just begging just needing just asking just calling

(she's not at all like Julia)

The thought had come unexpectedly and painfully and very quickly, and now everything else was gone, and suddenly Andy felt terribly lonely and not at all aroused.

"Andy? I'm sorry." Nina said again. "I really am."

"It's alright." He heard himself say, he heard the words from hidden somewhere inside the Thought. He could only really understand the Thought. It was his only complete focus. "Well, I'd better get back in there."

"Absolutely."

"My kids will be waiting go home. What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

"Yeah, we'd all better head home."

"Right."

"Right."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning?" she asked. "It's my turn to take Delia, right?"

"Actually, I was thinking I'd let her take tomorrow off, if she wanted to. She and Ephraim both. This was kind of a wild night, and a late one, at least for Delia. You could still come over for breakfast, if you wanted."

"Sure. Sure, that sounds like fun."

Andy smiled at her, and she smiled right back, and they both headed back out, walking quickly to get away from their near-mistake.

***

When Andy came out into the waiting room, half the crowd had dispersed. Ephraim was hugging a joyfully crying Amy, and Delia was sitting talking sleepily to Edna, who was sitting beside Irv. Besides the Harts and Dr. Abbott, that was all that remained of the crowd. Andy smiled slightly at how weirdly awkward Dr. Abbott looked, standing in the outer perimeter as his daughter hugged Andy's son tightly and with need. He looked awkward, yes, but not angry. Maybe mildly perturbed, but that was about all. Andy realized that he was also looking rather awkward, himself, standing on the outside of the little moment, and so he threw a smile at Dr. Abbott as though to rub something in, and then he walked over to where Delia was sitting. She looked up and he smoothed her hair with his hand.

"You look about ready to go, kiddo." He said gently. He looked up at Edna and smiled. "Thank you for occupying her."

"Any time. Andy, good work." She said, brief and military as she always was. "As long as my duty here is done, we'd best be heading out." She stood, and so did Irv, who also nodded his good intentions, and Andy even caught a smile from Edna.

They exited after giving Delia a wink or two, and Andy sat down next to the little girl.

She yawned cutely, and he had the urge to just scoop her up in his arms and hug her as tightly as he could. Something about this whole experience with Colin ... it made him want desperately to hold on to his children. Because Andy was a smart man, and he knew it wasn't always something he could fix. If there was one thing he knew, it was that you couldn't count on a damned thing. Not a damned thing in the whole wide world.

Instead, he settled for her leaning against him, half on his lap, her torso against his chest and her legs off to one side of him. He hugged her, not as tightly as he'd like, but it felt good. It felt like a foothold.

"You did well, didn't you?" Delia asked.

"It went well, yes."

"I'm proud of you." She said blatantly, smiling sleepily up at her dad. He laughed.

"Thank you, sweetheart." But he looked up, up at his son and Amy, up at Dr. Abbott, up at the Harts, who were talking to another surgeon, and he wished he could take his

thank you back. He wished he could explain to his nine-year-old how this wasn't his to be proud of. Instead, he just looked down at her and smiled. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked hopefully.

"Nope."

"Nope." He repeated, feeling somewhat lost in his fatigue.

"It didn't seem fair." Delia told him. He looked down at her, confused.

"Why not?"

"Because no one else could."

"Because they were all out here, worrying." Andy finished.

"And crying." Delia added, looking at Ephraim and Amy. Andy smiled and nodded toward them.

"That's a good kind of crying, sweetie. You don't have to feel bad for Amy for that kind of crying. She's happy."

"Yeah, I know."

She said this almost to herself, in way that Andy thought he understood. Crying had never really meant a good thing to that little girl. There hadn't really been a chance for it. They way she knew it, crying equaled death. She was only nine, and that was the only kind of crying she knew.

Delia yawned in a way that almost too adorable.

"Op, now you'll get me started." Andy said, yawning as well. Delia giggled, and when she stopped giggling, she just looked up at him, smiling slightly.

*I'm proud of you.*

Andy thought for a moment that perhaps this little girl was all he really needed in the whole wide world.

He looked up to check out the Amy and Ephraim situation, and saw that they had leaned back from one another. Ephraim was facing away from Andy, so he could only see Amy from over Ephraim's shoulder. Amy's face was giggling and shinny and beaming and pretty, and as Andy watched, Ephraim carefully brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, in a gesture which Andy wasn't sure, but didn't think was completely platonic. Andy carefully moved Delia off his lap and stood, being careful not to approach like he was intruding on some kind of private moment. He came slowly, toward Ephraim's line of sight, but before he could actually see his face, he saw Amy giggle, reach up and brush something off his face. As he came around the side, he realized that it had been a tear. His son was crying.

Andy felt suddenly thwarted by this new development; does he shy away and pretend he didn't see, or walk up to him and ask if he was all right? Amy Abbott saved him the trouble of deciding when she looked up. Her eyes locked on him, and her already broad smile brightened. She stood suddenly, ran and hugged Andy fiercely, Andy not knowing exactly how to take it. After a moment, he put a tentative hand on her back and smiled down at her. She looked up at him, with tears brimming in her red-rimmed eyes.

"Thank you, oh god, thank you Dr. Brown." She said, smiling contentedly.

Andy almost said "you're welcome" but stopped himself at the last moment and just smiled down at her. Andy didn't believe that this was necessarily his victory. A victory, surely, but not his own. This one didn't belong to him, and for maybe the first time in his life, he didn't mind.

Amy hugged him tightly one last time, and stood back. Her father felt it was time to step in, turning and gesturing Amy toward the exit doors.

"Come on, Amy. It's late. You're mother and brother are already headed home."

"Okay, Dad."

Amy joined her father leaving, and just before she exited out the doors, she turned back and made weirdly intense eye contact with Andy's son. Ephraim smiled back tenderly and gave small wave. Finally Andy came around to see his son, who was just wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve.

"You okay?" Andy asked him. For a moment his son looked up at him, confused, and then he laughed

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Girls ... their drama is infectious." He laughed, and Andy laughed with him.

"I know what you mean."

"How is she?" Andy asked.

"Who, Amy? Jesus. She's really, really great. I've never seen her so happy. That's on you." He said with a light smile. Was that ... was that *pride* under there, somewhere?

"You know, I was just thinking about that, and I don't think that's necessarily the case." Andy said introspectively, followed by a yawn. Which Ephraim followed with a yawn. Andy laughed. "The most contagious condition known to the medical world. You're sister's got it."

Ephraim looked up. "She doesn't have it anymore." He corrected.

Andy looked behind him and saw Delia, asleep on her bench. He sighed. This meant carrying Delia out and into the car and to bed.

"It's okay. I'll get her and meet you at the car. You must have to ... I don't know ... close up?"

Andy smiled. "I just have to get my things."

"Okay." Ephraim said, turning toward Delia.

"Hey, Ephraim?"

He turned back.

"Thanks for coming." Andy said blankly.

"Sure." Ephraim said lightly, already heading toward Delia. Andy smiled and went to get his things, thinking ecstatically that there was finally something there, by god. There was a trade of thoughts, an exchange between two people that meant something and nothing all at once. He could talk to his son like they were both human beings and there was definitely something there.

***

The phone calls started at seven the next morning. They were random phone calls, friendly phone calls, thankful phone calls. They were phone calls that were almost as thoughtful as they were annoying.

Ring, ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Could I speak to Dr. Brown?"

"This is he. What can I do for you?"

"Well, this is Brenda Baxter, and I just wanted to call and thank you for the wonderful work you did last night."

"Oh, that's very kind of you."

"It was just wonderful."

"It was, wasn't it? Why don't you call Amy Abbott and tell her so."

"I'm sorry?"

"Thank you for calling, Mrs. Baxter."

Ring, ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm looking for Dr. Brown."

"This is he."

"Oh, hello. This is Donald Smither."

"Oh, hi Mr. Smither."

"Well, I was just calling because, although I wasn't able to be there at the hospital last night, I'm so pleased by the results of the surgery."

"Thank god everything went well."

"Yes, and thank you. My son has known Colin Hart since he was in third grade, he lives just down the street from us."

"Well, don't we all."

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

"So, thank you. I hear it was quite something."

"Yes, I think it was. You should give the Hart's a call and say so."

"I'm sorry?"

"Thank you for calling, Donald."

By almost eight (Nina would be there at nine-thirty for breakfast) Andy had gotten over ten calls. He was afraid that the phone would wake his children. He had a plan all set up for them-he had unplugged both of their alarm clocks. He suspected that they would wake up at nine and freak out. He was looking forward to telling them he'd called into the school for them to have the day. He wasn't completely sure that Ephraim hadn't figured out his idea yet, but Delia was clueless.

So he was just about to unplug the phone, when it rang loudly again. Andy hurriedly picked it up.

"Hello, this is Dr. Andrew Brown speaking." He said sharply, getting a little annoyed.

"Someone's a little more unpleasant than ordinary this morning." Came the sarcastic, nasal tone from the line. Andy immediately brightened.

"Dr. Abbott!" he exclaimed happily.

"Give the man a cigar."

"How thoughtful of you to call."

"Yes, well, before we say that much, and at the risk of being called kind, I would like to thank you for Colin. I was somewhat impressed."

"That's very kind of you." Andy smiled.

"And more than that, though, I ... I wanted to thank you for your son."

"I'm sorry?" Andy asked, honestly confused. There was a loud impatient sigh from the ear piece.

"I said I wanted to thank you for your son."

"Ephraim?"

"No, Joe-Bob." He replied dryly, and the name sounded funnier than it should have exiting that prim and proper mouth. Andy laughed and Harold sighed and continued doggedly. "Despite my own feelings, Ephraim's been very kind to my daughter through out this whole experience, and I do feel gratitude in that." He admitted. "I also rationally admit that he has-- to some extent-- facilitated her progression through this incident."

Andy smiled. "You're thanking him for being there for her."

"In essence."

"Well, strangely enough, that's also very kind of you, doctor. Perhaps you'd like to thank him yourself, I could call him down." Andy bluffed.

"Oh, no, that's unnecessary. I would appreciate it if you would convey my sentiment to him in my stead."

Andy laughed. "Right, doctor."

"Good. Oh and one more thing."

"Certainly, doctor." Andy responded playfully, and Harold chose to ignore the mocking in his voice.

"I just wanted to make it clear that this situation ... this outcome. This victory. Although I am thankful for what you've done, the work you've exerted, and your own ability, in all fairness ... this is not completely yours."

Dr. Brown smiled. "It's more your daughter's, isn't it?"

There was a pause on the line, and Andy relished it. It was like he could hear Harold Abbott realizing that Andy was much more than what he had assumed. Finally, Harold spoke. "Oh. Well, and the Harts."

"And the Harts."

"Of course. Well. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Andy hung up the phone and then unplugged it, wrapping the cord around it and thinking to himself simultaneously that he had probably already had the best call of the day, and that perhaps Dr. Harold Abbott was quite a decent human being.

***

Nina arrived at almost ten, and Ephraim and Delia still hadn't woken up. Andy was starting to think that they had snuck out behind his back and gone to school already. He was just about to go up and check on them when the doorbell rang. He opened it to see Nina, looking exhausted standing on his front porch.

"Hey." He said, as cheerily as he could.

"Hi, Andy, I'm sorry I'm so late."

"Where's Sam?"

"He's with my sister in Wisconsin. Has been for almost a week now. She knew that things here were crazy ... I told her about Carl ... we still needed to work a few things out ... She offered."

"That was really nice of her."

"Yeah, it was."

There was a pause.

"Well, come on in."

"Where are the kids?"

"Well, they ah-" he laughed, "They haven't woken up yet."

"It was a crazy night." She concurred.

"So ... what do you think, I shouldn't wake them?"

"Nah. If I could sleep that late I'd want to."

"Sure. We'll just ... save something. If they want anything."

"Sure." Nina lifted a paper grocery bag. "You've got your bagels, your other bagels and for good measure, some bagels." Andy smirked at her and Nina sighed. "I couldn't bring myself to cook. I'm sorry."

Andy shook his head. "Don't be sorry. Bagels are great. I've got eggs. I really think that they're edible, too."

"Color?"

"Yellow. Ish."

"Ish? What's 'ish', Andy?" she laughed.

"Well, the majority of it is yellow. A safe looking yellow, at that."

Nina nodded. "That sounds like it'll work."

Andy turned and walked toward the kitchen, since nobody seemed to be moving. It felt suddenly very weird; he'd been alone with Nina many times. He'd had many serious, one-on-one conversations with her, but this felt so extremely forced, and he didn't like it.

As they entered the kitchen, a strange hush fell over the both of them.

"The scene of the crime." Nina whispered strangely, smiling, as if she were talking to herself and Andy at once, in a half amused, half embarrassed way. Andy laughed.

"It's just the two of us; if you wanted to we could eat outside."

Nina laughed and waved the thought away. "I'm just kidding." She said lightly, but Andy didn't think she was. "Here, let me check out the eggs." Nina walked over to the stove and lifted the lid of the pan over the first burner. "Looks edible to me." She smiled. She paused for a moment, looking at the eggs, and then looked up at Andy. "You know, it really does look fine, I'm just not very hungry."

It was a weird thing to say, and she knew it just after she'd said it. She couldn't say exactly why it was weird, but it certainly was. You just didn't say that. If you weren't hungry, you sat down and ate what you could and then said you were stuffed. You didn't just decide that, although you came over for breakfast, although you brought a bag full of bagels, although you hadn't eaten anything yet today, you just weren't hungry. Why didn't you do that? Because it felt like an awkward lie. But Nina only had maybe two seconds to think this, because just that long after she had made her announcement, Andy nodded agreeable.

"You know, me neither." He said. It was odd. He had been hungry. As hungry as anyone is when they wake up first thing in the morning and then spend the next two hours fasting and answering phone calls. Nina had arrived, they had talked, and suddenly he had no interest in eating at all.

"Isn't that funny?" Nina asked, mostly to herself, but Andy could hear the amused relief in her voice that she hadn't said something wrong. There was a silence while they both just stood there smiling strained-ly.

"So ... do you want to go sit out on the porch?" Nina suggested.

"That sounds good." Andy immediately responded. She led the way out onto the porch and they both sat down in facing chairs.

"So Sam's with your sister?" Andy opened, grabbing hold of a topic.

"Yeah. He's ah-he's not to happy." She said, almost guiltily.

"About?"

"I told him about his father and me."

"Oh. How did that go?"

"Not well, I don't think."

"What does 'I don't think' mean?"

"It means he told me that he doesn't understand. I didn't try to explain the whole thing with Carl, but he still can't understand that we're getting a divorce. I wish I could make him grasp the concept, because I just - I feel like I'm leaving him out somewhere stranded. I feel like - I don't know. I hate it."

"I bet. Is there anything I can do?"

Nina was so close to saying yes. She was so close. "Oh, no. But thanks."

"I know it'll work out. He's a smart kid."

"If you can get him to sit still and focus, yeah, he is." Nina agreed. Andy smiled.

"Everything will work out." He said. Nina nodded.

"You'd hope so, wouldn't you?" she said rhetorically. Andy frowned.

"Do you think it won't?"

"Well, no but ... I've decided, I think, not to be sure at this point."

Andy nodded. "It's good not to expect anything."

"Yeah. It's good, but it's a downer." They both laughed. "But then, you're not being a little hypocritical; don't tell me you don't always expect a successful surgery."

Andy smiled first and frowned his forehead a little bit in thought. "You know, I used to. When that was everything to me, I used to expect a success. But I don't think I do anymore."

"That's good."

"Not really. Not if I wanted to stay in the business. You want to know that you can do it, even if you don't say it out loud. You want to go into it knowing that just the fact that you *can* fix it means you *will* fix it."

"And you didn't feel that way with Colin."

"Neither times. Honestly, I think its Julia. I think I figured out that just because something can turn out well, it doesn't mean it will."

"And that you can't fix everything." Nina said without thinking. Andy looked up at her suddenly, and she heard in her own ears what she'd said. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound so ... like that." Andy smiled.

"It's okay. I think it was true." There was a long pause. Andy sighed. "I don't think I'll be doing anymore surgery." Nina looked at him.

"Not at all? Not even at a time like this?"

Andy sat up. "I know a lot of good, talented, cocky surgeons who can do just as good a job. And I just don't ..." Andy held that momentary pause in his hands for quiet a moment, debating almost amusedly the thought of telling the whole truth. "... think I'm made of the right stuff anymore. Everything takes a mentality, and I think I've lost the one for surgery." And I'm okay with that, I think.

"It doesn't make you a little sad?" she asked blatantly. Andy frowned.

"Yeah. It does a little. But not as sad as it would make me if I still thought that way; the way I used to. I wouldn't trade what I have for what I had. And I guess that's the test."

"Yeah, it is." Nina said, smiling at him. He looked up at her, her face framed but the low sun in the east, turning the edges of her face and hair to a fine yellow haze.

"What?" he asked her playfully. She shook her head.

"People don't talk like that." She said happily. "People don't usually talk the way you talk."

"How do I talk?"

"I don't know ... really open. You're not afraid to ... say things. Real things."

Andy laughed and looked away, embarrassed and having no idea how to respond. Nina felt a blush rise to her face.

"I think that's a compliment." She said, laughing. Andy looked back over to her, and when he caught her eyes, there was a kind of leveling in him very suddenly. He met her eyes, and he reacted as a shaking tuning fork reacts when it is touched to something solid, like the ripples of emotion in his face quickly calmed and disappeared.

"Thanks." He said. She stared back. There was a pause.

"Andy?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you let me kiss you like that?"

Andy looked at her straight on, his eyes caught in her eyes, and what they were saying was only secondary, only secondary to those eyes.

"I don't know why." He said quietly.

Nina's expression didn't change, and she didn't look away. She suddenly felt like looking away from his eyes would leave her feeling very empty, very lonely.

"I know you don't." she said slowly, "But why?"

There was another long pause while they just looked at one another. Everything around was kind of quiet; there were no cars on the street, no people on the walk, no dogs barking in backyards. People were sleeping in. People were floating in the success of last night, but not even last night seemed existent. There was nothing else as Andy answered, without even having to search himself to deeply.

"I think I missed that feeling." He said.

"I thought maybe."

There was a pause, and then a voice from inside.

"*Holy shit*!"

It was Ephraim's voice, and Andy quickly realized that the world was suddenly back, in a hard momentary scream, and he laughed and stood, hurrying inside to tell his son that it was okay, he had the day off school today. Funny, Andy thought; to him, suddenly, today didn't feel okay at all.

***

She was smaller. Her bone structure was tighter, slighter. She was shorter. Her eyes were smaller and brighter. Her hair was much lighter and slightly longer. Her lower lip was rounder and redder. Her body had more smoothness to it; more softness. She wore less make-up. Her breasts were smaller. She was thinner. Her curves were more flowing, and she was not as strong. She had a completely different kind of intelligence; she was not as confident or as happy or as brave. But she was much more understanding. She was not as good a liar. She was a better listener, but not as good a talker. She was both tougher and weaker. She was ... different.

Andy missed them both. Except that one of them he had never lost. What worried him more than that was that he had never really had her, either.

the end

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