10. Paige
I splurged and bought two brand-new sets of scrubs during my lunch break today. One set is baby blue, and the other is a pale purple that will look amazing against my light hair.
Then, on my walk home from work, I noticed this sad little mostly dead fern that someone put out with their trash two buildings down from mine. A spot on my counter is about to open up since the poor little pothos I tried to rescue is beyond all hope, so I have just the spot for this fellow.
I walk up the five floors to my apartment with a little extra pep in my step.
“Hi, honeys, I’m home.” I don’t bother to whisper, since my guy seems to sleep through however much noise I make. I go change into my new scrubs, the blue ones, and leave my hair down because I happen to be having a fantastic hair day.
I grab the clipboard I snagged from my office’s supply room this afternoon and start my usual rounds. Romeo first because he tugs on his water bottle nonstop, banging it against the wire cage until he gets a snack. Then Tango. Both are doing great.
Even the plants in my apartment—also all rescues—are looking good. Actually, a few of them look perkier than usual. Go me!
I go to the kitchen sink to wash my hands since I was touching the turtle. Huh. The little pothos I thought was done for and was planning to throw away has a new bright-green leaf about to unfurl. “You go, greenie!” I give him a high-five with my pointer finger.
Now onto changing all of my guy’s bandages. I fill a tray with bandage supplies and head to the couch. “You’re up next, my guy.”
I pull the sheet covering him aside and just enjoy the view for a long minute. His abs are ridiculous. Like literally chiseled onto his body. I sit on the edge of the couch, his warm body pressing against my thigh. I slip on latex gloves and carefully remove the bandage on his side. “This looks good.”
I make notes on my clipboard: Wound (left flank)— Nice and clean, a healthy shade of pink around the edges, no foul smells.
Even the bandage looks clean, so I guess there hasn’t been any bleeding or weird discharges. I wash the area with hydrogen peroxide on cotton balls, slather on a thick layer of bacitracin ointment, and apply a new bandage.
Now for his shoulder. The tape on his chest lifts right off. Goddamn, I did a good job on these stitches. “You, my guy, are welcome.” Gina said the stitches looked ‘all sorts of fucked up’ when I put them in, but they’ve settled into place nicely, perfectly spaced and even. My very best yet.
I am so going to rock the rehabilitator license test next month!
I roll my guy onto his side, toward me, pulling him practically onto my lap, so I can look at the back of his shoulder. His big body is like a weighted blanket, warm breath on my knee. Scrubs may be highly professional, but they are paper thin.
Okay, so the stitches on his back don’t look anywhere near as good as the ones in front. Maybe because he’s been lying on them, sort of compressing them? Maybe I should turn him over every few hours or prop a throw pillow under him? I’ve never had to worry about ‘coma care’ with any of my critters before, so this part is all guesswork.
And it’s not like he’ll ever see his own back anyway.
I clean and re-bandage the area, then toss my latex gloves onto my tray. I run my fingers along his back to feel for bed sores or anything like that, but all I feel is his smooth skin and firm muscles.
I honestly can’t stop myself. His back is so smooth and firm and warm, I rub up and down, following the deep dent along his spine. I use my nails on the upstroke and the pads of my fingers on the downstroke. I could do this for hours.
Seems like he likes it too, his body completely relaxing onto me.
My phone chimes with a text, but I can’t reach it with his weight on my lap. I enjoy the pressure on my lap for a few more minutes, then lean him back onto the couch. His left arm still draped across me, heavy and warm. His hand practically cupping my ass. It’s almost like he’s copping a feel, but pretty sure that’s just wishful thinking on my part.
“What’s your deal? Are you ever going to wake up for me?” I run my fingers across his eyelids, along his cheekbones. “When you do, are you going to stick around or just get up and leave?” I stare at his gorgeous face, wishing I could see those bright green eyes again. “I hope you stay awhile. I’d like to meet you for real. I don’t even know your name.”
My phone chimes again. I can reach it now.
Spencer
How’s my foxy girl?
Alright, that’s kind of cute. I’ll give him credit for that one.
Paige
I’m having a great day! You?
Depends on whether you invite me over or not
I sigh. Wow, Paige, tell me about your great day. I’d love to hear about it. What? Your animals, plants, and your random guy are all doing great? You’re awesome, babe! Now tell me more about you.
Sorry. Still can’t have company
Don’t you miss me?
Do I?
I bite my lip while I think. I’m not sure Spencer has crossed my mind at all since his last text. Most days, I’m wondering if he’ll text and want to see me that night. I’ll check my phone a few times, hoping there’s a message. But today, I completely forgot all about him.
So, no. No, I don’t. Not at all, actually.
In fact, sitting here, with my couch guy’s warm arm around me, this is all I need.
Well, this and cleaning out Tango’s enclosure, since that starts to reek if I don’t do it at least every third day.