Never a Hero

reached for the buckle on my right shoulder. “Getting rid of this.”
    I blushed, but I stood still as he undid the strap. He was close enough I could easily have kissed him if I’d dared. He finished the first buckle and began to undo the one on the other side. “I feel silly,” I said. Silly and ridiculously aroused, but I opted to keep that latter bit to myself.
    “Why?”
    “I just do.”
    “Well, stop.” He pushed the straps off my shoulders and reached for my arm, but I pulled back, thinking of the wrapping underneath, of the sweat and the way my skin was always red and inflamed after wearing the prosthetic.
    “Don’t. You don’t want to do that.”
    “I’ve done it a hundred times for my sister.” He laughed. “Probably more. Anyway, I’m a doctor, remember?”
    “I’m not a dog.”
    “I’m aware of that fact,” he said. And then his laughter seemed to fall away and he added, in a quieter voice, “Excruciatingly aware.”
    I wasn’t sure how to take that. I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult or neither. I stood speechless and confused as he carefully released my arm from my prosthetic. He turned away from me to unlock his car, and while he did, I pulled off the rubber sleeve that fit over my stump. He took that from me too and tossed it like a discarded sock into the back seat of his SUV with my arm. I stood there shivering, watching him, wondering about his sudden change in mood. Wondering if he knew how intimate the last few minutes had felt to me. If he did, he gave no indication. He smiled at me. “Aren’t you freezing?”
    “As a matter of fact, I am.” He waited while I put my shirt back on and rolled my left sleeve up to the base of my stump so it wouldn’t flap loose while I walked.
    “Do you want me to do the other side to match?” he asked. Blunt and honest, yet practical, since I couldn’t roll it up myself.
    “No. I’m warmer like this.”
    Once I had my coat back on, with the left sleeve hiked up to match my shirt, we walked up the street again, but the other way this time. The sandwich shop was infinitely better than the Greek place had been. It had lots of plants and fish tanks. Small tables sat half-hidden in intimate corners.
    Nick gestured toward the counter. “I can order for us, if you want to pick a table.”
    I was touched once again by his sensitivity. He was allowing me a chance to hide rather than having to deal with any of the employees. “Something with turkey,” I said.
    He smiled at me, causing my stomach to do somersaults. “You got it.”
    He brought us identical sandwiches, although he had carrot sticks instead of French fries. Always the healthier option. It was no wonder he looked so good.
    “I’m sorry about the restaurant.”
    I couldn’t believe he was apologizing to me. I was the one who’d made a scene. “It wasn’t your fault.”
    “No.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I’m sorry about when you tried to order. I’ve never seen you struggle with your speech so much, and I wasn’t sure if I should stop you and order for you, or if it was better to let you work it out.”
    Blunt and honest. I was beginning to get used to it. “It depends a lot on how the listener responds. When they get impatient, like the waitress, it m-makes it harder for me to speak clearly. Once p-people start to notice it, it’s l-like it takes on a life of its own.”
    “Why didn’t you just point to what you wanted?” Such a simple question, and it brought me up short. Why hadn’t I? My mother had never allowed that, but still, my mother wasn’t here. It was the most obvious solution, so why hadn’t it occurred to me? “I guess I just panicked.”
    “You told me the stutter used to be worse. What happened? Did you do some kind of therapy?”
    I swallowed hard and took a long drink of my soda, trying to decide how much to reveal. He waited, patient as a stone. I took the easy way out and said, “A bit, yeah.”
    “And is that why you get nervous around people?”
    “It doesn’t help, but the real reason is my arm.”
    “You don’t seem uncomfortable with me, though.”
    “You’re different.”
    “Why?”
    It was a simple question, but the answer was complex. Because he was patient. Because he was direct, yet not insensitive. Because he never laughed at me, and he made me feel safe. What I ended up saying was, “Because you aren’t weirded out by it.”
    “And others are?”
    “You said your sister