Page 74 of Sharing Silence

“Do you like … being a nurse?”

Silence shrugs. “Most of the time, yeah. It’s stressful. I like the people I work with, though.”

“Steffi?”

She raises her gaze to me. “How do you know Steffi?”

“You talk about her to Yale. I listen, sometimes. Not in a weird way.”

Her smile is small. “Yeah, like Steffi. And Monica, too.”

God, this is hard. It’s so much easier to annoy her. But if this, whatever this is, goes beyond this safe house, we can’t base our relationship on bickering.

Relationship.

Shit.

“Can you teach me?”

Silence finishes and peels off her gloves. “Teach you what?”

“Stitching. Stitches,” I say, pulling my shirt down. “You said I did a good job the other day. Maybe I could learn some shit.”

She visibly brightens. “Really?”

“Yeah. Can’t hurt to know stuff like that.”

She seems suspended in excitement, like she doesn’t know where to start. Hopping up, she dashes over to cabinets and starts collecting supplies.

“We can practice on bananas! The skin is thick and—” She dumps things into a shallow basket. “We can race each other!”

I grin. Shit. So this is what Silence likes. Teaching people. I have a lot to learn, so maybe we won’t have to argue to get by.

“Come on.” She takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. “This is going to be so much fun!”

It’s not fun.

It’s difficult.

An hour later, we’re in the kitchen, and I’m on my second banana, a frown permanently fixed on my face, my tongue between my lips.

“Human skin is not this thick,” I grumble.

“You’d be surprised,” Silence says, watching my technique. She’s a good teacher. She showed me once, explained each step, and has let me do my own thing. Not once has she taken over, which I’m glad of, because I will get this fucking right.

“I’ve cut enough people open, Silence. This banana is subhuman.” I drop the stitch. “My hands are too big. This is fucking annoying.”

Yale is sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop and watches with amusement, but he doesn’t tease me, so that’s something.

Silence smiles. “You’ll get it. It just takes practice.”

“I’m cramping.” I stretch out my fingers.

“But are you having fun?”

“I know you are.”

She flushes. “I really am.”