He didn’t answer right away . . . out to sea, I supposed, or just busy. I started a book called How to Marry Keanu Reeves in 90 Days, only to find out it was, alas, fiction and not an instruction manual. But it was funny and smart, and I read until dark.
Finally, my phone dinged. Sure. Pick you up at 7?
Sounds good! I answered.
I hadn’t seen much of Ben in January, since I’d had Dylan to focus on. Not much this month, either. Maybe he was seeing someone, because his truck didn’t pull in till late some nights. Or maybe he was just going to his own house, if the renters had left, that is.
The truth was, I liked having Ben in the studio. It wasn’t just that he was a good friend to Zeus, or my father’s best buddy. Seeing his light on, knowing he was awake when I got home, definitely took the edge off my loneliness. As did having a dog. As did seeing my sister more. As did knowing Dylan would be home for a good part of the summer, and that was just a couple of months from now.
But the surprising truth was that somewhere over the past six months, I had found that I liked living alone.
Go figure.
* * *
Later, the Land Ho! was crowded and festive as always, being one of the few affordable restaurants that was open year-round on the Outer Cape. We got the table under the “Mr. Speaker” sign （for Saint Tip O’Neill, our illustrious congressman from way back when） and ordered piles of fried food—scallops for me, clams for Ben—and drank Outermost IPA.
I told him about my recent dustup at the hospital, and he clinked his glass against mine. He described Zeus’s glee on the boat, sitting like a good dog on the bow, ears flapping, barking at the seals and leaving the scallops alone.
“Was my dad with you?” I asked.
“No. He hasn’t been coming out as often.”
“But the Goody Chapman is his truest love,” I said.
“I know.” Ben scratched his forehead. “I think he has a girlfriend.”
“I think so, too! He’s been weirdly evasive when I ask where he is. Tells me it’s none of my business, which is the first time in my life he’s kept a secret.” I ate another scallop. “Supporting the local fleet,” I said, and he grinned that crooked smile that showed the crow’s-feet around his blue eyes. Nice. “So who do you think it is?”
“No clue. But he asked me if there were any florists around the other day.”
“Really!”
“Yep.”
“Well, I didn’t get any flowers, and I’m pretty sure Hannah didn’t get any flowers . . .”
“The plot thickens,” Ben said.
“In all the years since the divorce, I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend. Or he’s a secretive old bastard and hasn’t told me.” I took a sip of beer. “How about you, Ben? You seeing anyone?”
He gave me the side-eye. “None of your business.”
I laughed. “So it’s a yes.”
“Actually, it’s a no. I’m too busy babysitting a recently divorced woman with a tendency to trap wild animals and release them in people’s houses.”
I laughed around my beer. “Who told you that? Not that I’m confirming such a preposterous story.”
“Hannah mentioned it.”
“Traitor. I still admit nothing. Hey, there’s a woman for you, Ben. My sister.”
He ate a french fry. “Nah. We’re just friends. Have been for too long to mess it up by dating.”
I remembered what Hannah had said about men telling her she wasn’t pretty enough. “But you think she’s attractive, right?”
“Sure. I like a tall woman.” He looked at me and winked, since I was short, and I kicked him under the table.
“So you never said anything to her, did you? About dating her?”
“No, I just told you. We’re friends, more or less. I saw a lot of her when she lived in Provincetown. She’d bring her friends down to the wharf and say hi to your dad. She’s good people, Hannah.”
The image of her visiting our father warmed my heart. I always assumed she ignored Dad as much as possible, since it fit the “us versus them” narrative I’d spun. But back to the current subject. “So why wouldn’t you date her? Friendship is a nice place to start, isn’t it?”
He frowned. “You fixing me up with your sister?”
“Just . . . a fishing expedition. See what I did there?”
He rolled his eyes. “I like Hannah. I have never had a negative thought about Hannah. I do not wish to date Hannah for the simple reason that, for one, the idea never crossed my mind until you shoved it in there tonight, and for two, I doubt I’m her type. Never got the vibe that she was interested, you know?”