Free The Art of Forgetting by Peter Palmieri Page B

Monica said. “You’re practically colleagues.”
                  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’re a doctor,” Lloyd said.
                  “I’m not,” Erin said.
                  “But you are a doctor,” Monica said.
                  “I have a Ph.D. in medical ethics,” Erin explained.
                  “Huh. I didn’t realize you could be a doctor of ethics,” Lloyd said.
                  “Ethics is not exactly Lloyd’s strong suit,” Mark said with a frown as he mimed pricking the palm of his hand with an invisible pin.
                  “I’m the most ethical doctor I know.” Lloyd held Erin’s gaze as if to add credence to his assertion. “It’s just that I don’t think it’s something that you can acquire through a degree.”
                  “I can’t dispute that,” Erin said. “Still, there are precedents that are helpful to know, not to mention procedures and methodologies that you can only learn through study. I hope my education wasn’t a complete waste.”
                  “Of course it wasn’t a waste. Lloyd, how could you say that?” Monica said.
                  “I didn’t say that at all.”
                  “Enough hospital talk,” Mark said. “We don’t want to upset the steaks.”
                  “I’m so proud of you Erin,” Monica said. “You’re smart, bold, beautiful. Don’t you think she’s beautiful, Lloyd?”
                  “That’s self-evident,” Lloyd said.
                  Monica glared at him. “What kind of answer is that?”
                  “I meant it as a compliment,” Lloyd said facing Erin.
                  “Monica, please,” Erin said.
                  Lloyd noticed a rosy blush blooming on Erin’s cheeks. She really was beautiful. But there was something beyond her beauty – he felt as if they shared an unspoken intimacy. An inexplicable bond. How much did she remember of the old Lloyd, the person he used to be?  And what did she think of him now? 
                  Lloyd gulped down a mouthful of wine. Why should it matter what she thought of him? Sexual trysts with relative strangers were one thing, but screwing a friend’s cousin carried all sorts of complications. And any other type of relationship was out of the question.
                  Tendrils of smoke escaped from the edges of the cast iron lid of the grill. As the summer breeze changed direction, the fragrance of burnt cedar chips wafted across the backyard patio. Beyond the patio, a pump gurgled in the large, rectangular swimming pool.
                  “It’s such a gorgeous day,” Monica said. “We should have told you to bring your bathing suits. We just had the pool cleaned.”
                  “Who needs bathing suits?” Mark said.
                  “You do, my dear.” His wife twisted her mouth in a playful scowl and pinched his thick forearm. “Mark, can you please help me inside to get some ice?” she asked.
                  “There’s plenty of ice in the bucket, honey,” Mark said.
                  “Honey, I said I need help… with the ice.”
                  “Right,” Mark said. He looked at Lloyd and widened his eyes, turning down his lower lip in a comical expression, pushed back on his patio chair and got to his feet. “More ice. Keep an eye on the steaks, Lloyd.”
                  Monica slapped Mark’s butt as he stepped over the threshold of the sliding glass doorway.
                  Lloyd and Erin chuckled. “Do you get the feeling we’re being fixed up?” Lloyd asked.
                  “My cousin’s always playing the matchmaker,” Erin said.
                  “Married people