14. Chapter 14
fourteen
A t the wretched hour of half-past three o’clock the next afternoon, Julian laid in his bed. While he stared up at the ceiling, he used every bit of his mental energy to block out the throbbing, stingy pain in his flayed palm and swollen fingers.
In the middle of the night, his easy chair had grown uncomfortable.
He’d relocated to his bedroom. He pulled his thin, untucked flat sheet up to his chin, regretting not stoking the stove.
The fire from his fireplace usually made him sweat through anything more than boxers and the thin blanket.
The heat from the baseboard units, however, rarely made it upstairs.
His bedroom had caught a chill, and now so had he.
How miserable.
He felt like a child, helpless. Even going to the bathroom was a chore. It had been a long time since he’d felt so powerless.
A faint knock came from his front door a little after five o’clock. If he hadn’t been listening so intently, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve heard it. And God help anyone who was at his door and wasn’t Annie.
Groaning, he sat up in bed. Feels like I got punted off a cliff ... Parts of him, he suspected, were making up for the near loss of one limb — not to mention, he now regretted showing off his strength to Annie while he’d helped her restock his neighbor’s cabin .
As he made his way downstairs, Kitty skittered around the corner at the bottom of the stairs and barreled past him.
“Jesus!” The black-and-white cat thumped up the hardwood stairs and dove into the bedroom like he was taking shelter from an angry mob.
The cat was so antisocial, Julian just about forgot that he was actually around.
Collecting himself, Julian opened the front door. After a brief hello, he let Annie inside. She pulled off a light pink jacket and purple scarf and held it in her arms. Although he wished she would’ve come over much sooner, his chest filled with gratitude at the sight of his savior.
“How’s it feel today?”
He took her jacket and scarf from her and hung it up on the hooks on the wall by the door. They looked out of sorts with his worn, stained work clothes. “It feels like a busted-up hand.”
“Well, I’d imagine.” She frowned and her brows came together in concern. “The medicine helping at all?”
“Ummm...” He scratched the back of his head.
She frowned, concerned. “...You okay?”
“The bottles are a two-hand job.”
Annie blinked for a moment before realization dawned on her. “Oh my God, Julian! You’ve had no pain killers since the hospital?” She looked around him and spied the white bag and orange bottle on the kitchen counter.
“You know, Advil doesn’t really work wonders for traumatic hand injuries.”
She twisted the child’s lock, using a good chunk of her strength.
“No wonder you couldn’t get any.” She filled him a glass of water at the sink, set it on the counter, and read the label’s instructions.
“Take one every four hours with food.” She then dumped the bag’s contents onto the counter.
“You’ll probably want these, too.” The paper rattled, and the plastic clattered on the counter surface.
Out came a roll of bandages, the steroid, the antibiotics, and a small little baggie containing three small pills — “Oxy” written on it in black marker.
Dangit!
Julian gritted his teeth to stop from swearing more coarsely in front of a lady.
Given that opening the little zipped seal would’ve been near impossible with his limited dexterity, he still could’ve plausibly cut the thin plastic with scissors.
I should have taken everything out of the bag. He shook his head.
Annie gave his shoulder a tentative pat.
Glancing at her, and seeing the pity on her face, Julian sighed and shot her a grin. “Better late than never.”
His would-be nurse opened all the bottles and handed him the pills. He wasted no time in swallowing ‘em down and finished the entire glass of water. Drinking with his non-dominant hand was uncomfortable, but doable.
“I’ll leave the caps off.”
“Caps off, yes.” He was so relieved that he was shivering. “Thank you, Annie.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome.” Her hand lifted to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her hair hung loose today, framing her cheeks. “Would you like me to cook you something?” She smiled sweetly. “I have two hands, able and willing.”
“No, that’s okay.” I already owe so much to her. Even though his stomach was growling, he knew she was only offering because she felt bad that he was alone. “That’s kind, but you don’t have to do that, Annie.”
“It’s okay, I want to.”
“I’m sure you’re busy…”
“Well, let me at least help you change your bandages, then?”
I can’t really do that myself... A little dried blood was visible through the white fabric that cushioned his palm, wrist, and lower upper arm. She had him stuck between a rock and a hard place with that one. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable...”
“I don’t like gore,” Annie admitted. “I think I can help without looking too much. And it’s stitched up, right?”
“Stitched up like a kipper.”
She laughed. It was perhaps the most genuine laugh he’d heard in a long time. “What? I’ve never heard that!”
He smiled. “It means: very disappointed and put at a disadvantage.”
“Where did you hear that?”
He’d heard his parents say it to each other when he was young. “From family,” he answered vaguely before he grabbed a pair of scissors and the bandage roll off the counter and headed to the bathroom. He shrugged. “It sounded funnier in my head.”
Annie followed behind him. She cut the bandage free without nicking his skin.
It hurt to uncurl his fingers away from his palm, but he had no choice but to do so while she cleaned off the dried blood and gently dabbed at the stitches.
Her light touch impressed him and he watched her for any signs of wooziness. In fact, she was smiling.
She squeezed out a slug of opaque antibiotic ointment over the stitched up gash.
It looked better, but a man could only look so glamorous with a palm full of puffy skin and a trail of black stitches that looked like ants headed to a picnic.
He could see now what Dee had meant about his middle finger.
If the blade had cut any farther to the right, he would have had 6 fingers on his hand.
“If I were to cook, what would you, in theory, like me to make?” Annie grabbed the clean, self-sticking bandage and unrolled it .
Julian shook his head again. “Don’t worry. I bet there’s a frozen microwave dinner buried in my freezer.”
A deep stomach growl betrayed him.
“Everybody needs to eat,” Annie replied. “Even big, strong lumberjacks who refuse to let someone cook for him — I mean them.”
To hide his amusement, he narrowed his eyes at her. Again, she was unconvinced, and smiled harder. How can she see right through me? He then shot back, “Guilting me with flattery, huh? I know I’m handsome and I don’t need someone to feed me to feel that way.”
“I didn’t say you were handsome… I said you were strong…” She refused to look at him, though granted, she was concentrating on wrapping his palm.
“I know. But you were thinkin’ about it.”
Aghast, Annie let out a snort. She still couldn’t look at him. “I wasn’t — I am just here to help you...” Her face was bright pink, and he thought it was cute as she tripped over her words. After another few seconds, she gathered herself.
“Fine. You can starve for all I care.” She finally lifted her eyes and peered up at him through her lashes.
He swallowed. The look in her eyes was intriguing, but it quickly left. In fact, he wondered if he’d imagined it. It was replaced with some other emotion that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Sadness? No, more out of reach than that. She looked away a second later.
They didn’t speak until Annie had finished bandaging. It wasn’t too loose or too tight.
“There. Almost as good as new.”
Julian turned his hand over, inspecting it. There was some bandage leftover, and he guessed he wouldn’t need to change it again for another day, so long as he kept it clean. “Thank you, Annie. I appreciate it.”
“Welcome.” She tucked her hair again. “Now, for someone who believes I can out-cook a professional restaurant owner, you’re sure being stubborn about letting me cook for you.”
Julian raised a brow, genuinely lost in what she meant. Annie was a splendid cook, but he didn’t understand the first half of her statement.
She caught on to his confusion. “When we stopped at the diner, you told Ellie I could beat her in a chili-cooking contest. You remember, right? You were pretty dopey.”
He drew a blank. She could’ve been screwing with him, and he wouldn’t... Did he remember? He grasped at a hazy memory as it surfaced. “... Was a throw down mentioned?”
Annie giggled again. “You specifically said that I’d ‘throw it down... town.’ I’m not sure what Ellie thought of it, but she laughed, too.”
Julian chuckled, partially because it was amusing, but also to cover up his worry. He couldn’t remember what came out of his mouth; had he been that out of it? It was one thing to lose chunks of some short-term events, but it was quite another for the medication to loosen his lips.
Shit. I just took more of it…
“No pressure,” Annie said. A light smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “I get it. But I could cook you something really cool, or at least I think so.”
Her words rang familiar. He rolled his eyes. “I see what you’re doin’. Using my own tactics against me...” He played along. “Are you just hyping it up?”
She looked contemplative for a minute. “Maybe.”
I don’t want to take advantage of her, but she’s persistent. “I don't want to waste your time. ”
“I’m okay,” she replied.
Her kindness was touching, but everyone expected something in return for their good deed. If he accepted, he feared he would disappoint her down the road.
Down the road? I’m talking like she’s already my girlfriend. She won’t be sticking around. I know that. She has a home, and it’s not with me.
He looked at her squarely. She was a smart girl — as smart as she was stubborn. “I don’t need you to feel obligated to take care of me, and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to stick around.” When she frowned, he added, “I just don’t want to owe you.”