Wheelchair against the glass door. Watching him with shiny, wide eyes.
Dal didn't care. Too late to care. Only Elizabeth mattered: her probing fingers, the slick tight hole of her mouth.
Herbert didn't matter till afterward.
***
'Does he have to watch?' Dal asked.
'Of course.'
'It's sick, Elizabeth.'
She smiled. 'I know. Isn't it delicious?'
They sat by the pool, Herbert facing them, and drank Burgundy. Dal wore his boxer shorts. Elizabeth wore nothing.
'Can he hear what we say?'
'Indeed he can. He hears, sees, and thinks. He breathes, swallows, and defecates. And that's about the extent of his achievements. Isn't it, Herbert?' She pinched his cheek. Her fingers left white marks that turned red.
'Could he feel that?'
'Could you, Herbert? Don't be shy, speak right up. Aw, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?'
'Doesn't he have a nurse, or anything?'
'Heavens no. He has me. I see to his needs. It's a terrible burden, sometimes, but I feel it's the least I can do for him.'
'You ought to get him a nurse.'
'Ought I? Oh, I don't think so. We don't want to fritter away our fortune on such luxuries, do we? There won't be nearly as much left for me, if we do that. Herbert, after all, is not going to live forever. I hate to say this in front of the poor dear, but I think his time is limited. No, I don't imagine Herbert will be with us much longer.' She finished her glass of wine. 'Let's go in for a dip. And for Godsake, take off those silly shorts.'
***
'How long have you been deaf?' Pete asked.
'You noticed.'
'Is it supposed to be a secret?'
Connie swirled her Bloody Mary with the celery stalk. 'Not exactly,' she said, 'I don't broadcast it to everyone I bump into, but I get around to it pretty quickly. I can't pick up everything that's said. If people don't know I'm deaf, they might think I'm just stupid.'
'I wondered which it was.'
Connie laughed.
'It isn't every day you see a woman walk out in front of a honking car.'
'It was honking? I'm surprised I didn't notice.'
'You're not completely deaf?'
'Just about. There's still some conductive hearing. You pick up vibrations of sounds, at least if they're loud enough. Something like a car horn, definitely.'
'I suspected you didn't hear it,' Pete said. 'As we walked over here, I said a couple of things with my head turned away.'
'You ought to be a detective.'
'I am.'
'You're kidding.'
He took a business card from his wallet.
Connie sipped her drink. It was heavy on the tabasco sauce, and made her eyes water. Blinking, she read his card. 'Pete Harvey, Private Investigations.' It gave his address and phone number. 'Can I keep it?' she asked.
'Sure.'
'Never know when I might need a private eye.'
'Let's hope you don't. Not in my professional capacity, at least.'
She tucked the card into her pocket book, briefly considered giving one of her cards to Pete, and decided not to. She didn't want to start talking about her work. Not right now.
'When did you lose your hearing?' he asked.
'It's been five years.'
'An illness?'
'Accident.'
'Tough break.'
'Could've been a lot worse.'
'How'd it happen?' he asked.
'A knock on the head.'
'Some knock.'
'I'll say. I was in a coma for three weeks.'
Pete shook his head.
'Well, I came out lucky. Even being deaf-it's not as bad as it could be. At least I had twenty-one years of hearing. I know how the world sounds, and I can talk.'
'You talk just fine.'
'Thank you.'
'And you read lips like a pro. I could use a gal like you on my staff, except for one thing.'
'What's
Dal didn't care. Too late to care. Only Elizabeth mattered: her probing fingers, the slick tight hole of her mouth.
Herbert didn't matter till afterward.
***
'Does he have to watch?' Dal asked.
'Of course.'
'It's sick, Elizabeth.'
She smiled. 'I know. Isn't it delicious?'
They sat by the pool, Herbert facing them, and drank Burgundy. Dal wore his boxer shorts. Elizabeth wore nothing.
'Can he hear what we say?'
'Indeed he can. He hears, sees, and thinks. He breathes, swallows, and defecates. And that's about the extent of his achievements. Isn't it, Herbert?' She pinched his cheek. Her fingers left white marks that turned red.
'Could he feel that?'
'Could you, Herbert? Don't be shy, speak right up. Aw, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?'
'Doesn't he have a nurse, or anything?'
'Heavens no. He has me. I see to his needs. It's a terrible burden, sometimes, but I feel it's the least I can do for him.'
'You ought to get him a nurse.'
'Ought I? Oh, I don't think so. We don't want to fritter away our fortune on such luxuries, do we? There won't be nearly as much left for me, if we do that. Herbert, after all, is not going to live forever. I hate to say this in front of the poor dear, but I think his time is limited. No, I don't imagine Herbert will be with us much longer.' She finished her glass of wine. 'Let's go in for a dip. And for Godsake, take off those silly shorts.'
***
'How long have you been deaf?' Pete asked.
'You noticed.'
'Is it supposed to be a secret?'
Connie swirled her Bloody Mary with the celery stalk. 'Not exactly,' she said, 'I don't broadcast it to everyone I bump into, but I get around to it pretty quickly. I can't pick up everything that's said. If people don't know I'm deaf, they might think I'm just stupid.'
'I wondered which it was.'
Connie laughed.
'It isn't every day you see a woman walk out in front of a honking car.'
'It was honking? I'm surprised I didn't notice.'
'You're not completely deaf?'
'Just about. There's still some conductive hearing. You pick up vibrations of sounds, at least if they're loud enough. Something like a car horn, definitely.'
'I suspected you didn't hear it,' Pete said. 'As we walked over here, I said a couple of things with my head turned away.'
'You ought to be a detective.'
'I am.'
'You're kidding.'
He took a business card from his wallet.
Connie sipped her drink. It was heavy on the tabasco sauce, and made her eyes water. Blinking, she read his card. 'Pete Harvey, Private Investigations.' It gave his address and phone number. 'Can I keep it?' she asked.
'Sure.'
'Never know when I might need a private eye.'
'Let's hope you don't. Not in my professional capacity, at least.'
She tucked the card into her pocket book, briefly considered giving one of her cards to Pete, and decided not to. She didn't want to start talking about her work. Not right now.
'When did you lose your hearing?' he asked.
'It's been five years.'
'An illness?'
'Accident.'
'Tough break.'
'Could've been a lot worse.'
'How'd it happen?' he asked.
'A knock on the head.'
'Some knock.'
'I'll say. I was in a coma for three weeks.'
Pete shook his head.
'Well, I came out lucky. Even being deaf-it's not as bad as it could be. At least I had twenty-one years of hearing. I know how the world sounds, and I can talk.'
'You talk just fine.'
'Thank you.'
'And you read lips like a pro. I could use a gal like you on my staff, except for one thing.'
'What's
Similar Books
