Page 102 of Just One Look

One Mermaid, No Tail

The thoughts were swimmingin and out of his brain like fish. Then theywerefish, schools of them, and there was a human figure ahead of him, too, floating naked and upright in the water, her dark hair drifting around her pale face. She was talking to him, and he could hear the words, even though they were under water.

“Oh,” she was saying. “That’s … that’s probably bad news.”

He was trying to say,How can it be bad news, when I tell you I’m falling in love with you? After you told me how bad it felt to think I was leaving you alone and hurting?He was trying to say all that, then just calling her name, but she was kicking herself backward through the deep blue water, her arms sweeping back and forth, long and graceful. The fish swam up and obscured her, a multicolored curtain, and he tried to go with her, but he couldn’t, because his arm was tied to something. He said, “Don’t go. Come back,” but she didn’t, and he was crying, tasting the salt of his tears.

She said, “Don’t pull at your IV. Luka, it’s me, Elizabeth. It’s all right. You can wake up now.”

He opened his eyes, but maybe they weren’t open, because there were no fish, just acoustic tile and bright lights and a blue fabric curtain. His face was wet, though, so he must have been in the water.

“Hi,” she said, and it was her. Not in the water, then. Her hand on his hair, too, then on his face, brushing away the moisture. “How’re you feeling?”

“You don’t love me,” he said, and somebody else swam into view. A nurse, that was, doing something with a monitor. Oh. Hospital. The nurse glanced over, then away again.

Elizabeth said, “I didn’t say I didn’t love you. I just …” She was the one looking away now, staring across him at the numbers on the monitor, sitting on a chair in her white coat and green scrubs, her hair in a plait again. Not a mermaid.

“Hey.” He took her hand, held it to his lips, and kissed it. Her palm was soft, completely different from his. He’d always know it was hers and nobody else’s, because it was better. The fingers were long, and his fingers fit with them. He was still floating, his brain and vision going alternately fuzzy and clear, like the old TV set his gran had owned when he was a kid. He kept holding her hand, because it felt important, and said, “You were scared. No need to be scared. I’m here.”

Bugger. He was falling asleep. His eyes drifted shut, but he forced them open again when she said, “Your surgery went well.” That was confusing, because she was standing up, and she looked like a doctor. She wasn’t a doctor, though, was she? She was a mermaid. A mermaid without a tail.

He said, “You were supposed to be naked. You were supposed to stay the night. But you left instead.”

She was saying something, because her mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear it. And then he fell into the dark water again, and it closed over his head.

* * *

Elizabeth told the nurse,whose name was Peg, “Ah, anesthesia.”

“Like drinking too much,” Peg said, “times ten. The truth comes out, eh.”

“Or just nonsense,” Elizabeth said. She could feel herself getting hot, which was ridiculous. Obviously, yes, everybody would know now, because hospitals ran on gossip, but so what? So she’d slept with a rugby player. She’d bet theywishedthey’d slept with a rugby player. Having people see her actions wasn’t an issue, as long as they didn’t see her feelings, and she wasn’t showing those. She told Peg, “I imagine you hear all sorts of confessions.”

Luka had fallen asleep. That was perfectly normal, and his breathing was fine. It didn’t mean he was losing consciousness. Even though, yes, she’d observed part of the surgery from the gallery, and had had to leave again, because she was overthinking every movement Nils made, as if it were likely that such an experienced neurosurgeon would bungle a simple fusion like that. Luka healed well, obviously, and he had no hidden weaknesses to fell him post-surgery. He was probably tested more than ninety-nine percent of the population, and if there were ever a fine physical specimen, he was it. She hadn’t been able to convince her stubborn subconscious in that surgical gallery, though, and she wasn’t doing any better at it now.

She wished she’d been the one operating on him, that was all, because then, she’d know.

On the other hand, she was clearly the last person who should be operating on him. She couldn’t control her emotions around him atall.They kept sneaking up and slapping her in the back of the head.

Oh. Peg was saying something. “… and the ones who call for their mums, even when they’ve been married thirty years and their mum probably has at least one foot in the grave. If I followed them into the future, I reckon I’d find out that those are the ones whose marriages don’t make it, or the ones who wish they’d left.”

“Or maybe just the ones who miss their mothers,” Elizabeth said.

“Maybe,” Peg said. “I hope I call for my hubby anyway. If I don’t, don’t tell him.”

“I have a surgery,” Elizabeth said. She wanted to kiss Luka’s cheek, but how did she do it now, after Peg had already seen all that?

Forget that. It’s the two of you, and that’s all. You can own your feelings, at least while he’s asleep. For once, you even know what they are. Sort of.

She brushed her hand over his thick hair, smoothing it where it was rumpled, then leaned down and kissed his stubbled cheek, feeling the alien roughness of him. He opened his eyes and said, “Elizabeth.” And his hand came up to touch her face. “Hey.” His voice was slow, and it was gentle. “You’re crying. Don’t cry.”

“I have a surgery,” she said. “I need to go. They’ll take care of you. I’ll … I’ll come see you later.” And fled.

* * *

He woke in a hospital bed,with the blank TV set opposite him still going in and out of focus. Outside, the day was bright, and in here, he was alone. Elizabeth had been here before, though, hadn’t she?

An hour or two, or more, while he slept and woke, slept and woke, and then he woke another time and there was somebody sitting by the bed.