She seemed to like him in a lot of ways. Sure, they went places and did things that you would normally call “dates,” movies, the Joyrides amusement park by the river, dinners out, and all that. But he simply enjoyed talking with her and being in her company. She was interested in so many things and always wanted to learn more. When he talked about football, she apologized for knowing nothing about it and then bombarded him with questions to understand it better. He took her to one of the games at his high school alma matter and gave her a running commentary about what was happening on the field and impressed him with what she had learned already. And she told him all about the jewelry design she did. It was something that never quite engaged him, but the enthusiastic way she explained it, he found himself getting a real interest in it. 

That night, they were finishing up a dinner out. They had been at the restaurant for over an hour, doing more talking and eating. It was a good place, crowded, and he was sure that they wanted the table, but he didn’t care. They were good friends but, as always, he kept his hands out of sight as much as he could, out of long habit. Of course, she had seen them and politely, didn’t ask about them. In passing he told her about the accident when he worked a summer job at the diner. Yes, oil burns are rather painful. And yes, it did take some time to heal. But he stressed that he was lucky, his sleeves protected his arms, and he didn’t lose too much use, almost none in his right hand. There was almost no pain now and it looked far worse than it felt. She listened truly concerned and smiled warmly when he spoke of his “luck.” 

They had been seeing a good deal of each other—just as friends of course. As smart and attractive as she was (not a “gorgeous” attractive, but simple, natural good looks), she didn’t seem to be going out with anyone else. She never talked about relationships and of course he didn’t because he hadn’t had any since the accident in his senior year. But Sheila had become one of the best friends he ever had, male or female. He never felt so comfortable with anyone. 

After dinner, they walked to the theater four blocks away. Though it was early April, the evening was cold. Spring had teased them for a week or two, then the cold north wind returned. He wanted more than anything else to take her hand. It would mean so much to him. He yearned to show her she was someone very special to him and, being completely honest with himself, he was beginning to wish the friendship would grow into something more. At the same time, he dreaded doing anything that would cause him to lose it.

All he had to offer her was something that would look and feel like a badly formed claw, leathery and misshapen. As they walked in comfortable silence, as sometimes happened, they looked over at each other at the same time. He knew it was likely wishful misinterpretation, but the smile in her eyes went to his very core. 

Unexpectedly, the backs of their hand brushed against each other, rough leather against satin. He drew his hand away, embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. Of course, he had never touched her. Once, months after his bandages were off, he was hiking with a group he recently joined and the young woman behind him teetered as she climbed up on a rocky patch. Without thinking, he took hold of her wrist to steady her. As soon as she regained her balance, she quickly pulled her arm away. Without meeting his eyes, she muttered a thank-you and tramped past him. The burning mortification he felt stayed with him for days and seared itself into his memory as those kinds of things always do. 

Shelia always walked close by his side. It made it easier for them, both with soft voices, to talk. After the accidental touch, he delicately added some distance between them to make sure it didn’t happen again. He would hate to lose her company. After a few steps, with equal subtlety, she closed the small gap. He could feel that even without looking. 

It startled him. His arm twitched slightly, instinctively trying to withdraw. But it couldn’t. Her hand had closed around his. After an initial, affectionate squeeze, her grip softened but stayed firm. He looked over at her and she glanced again at him, the same smile in her eyes as before. Like that, they continued on to the theater.