"Or maybe I should hire someone to do marketing and event planning here, like weddings and other parties," she says thoughtfully.
"That would be a fun job." Renata gives me a meaningful look. "For someone else, I mean. I live in New York."
"So did your dad," she says with a sly smile. "And you said you're thinking about quitting your job and looking for something new..."
I laugh and shake my head. "I'm not ready to give up city life just yet. You should have your wedding here though," I say. "It would be beautiful."
* * *
Afternoon slides into evening,and I'm a party of one, sitting on the porch in the sweltering heat like a fool, hoping Seth will pass by. Dad and Renata left for a Mudcats baseball game a little while ago. They invited me to go with them, but I felt like they deserved a date night without a tag-along. I also secretly thought Seth might show up at the house to continue what we started yesterday. He did say he wanted to kiss me again, and although it isn't a good idea to get involved with him when I'm leaving, it's all I can think about.
Dinnertime comes, and there's still no sign of him. Hunger and disappointment lead me to pick through the refrigerator for salad fixings when Seth bangs through the door from the screened porch. There's blood on his t-shirt and shorts, and he's got gauze wrapped around his right hand, which he's holding in the air.
"What happened? Did you hurt yourself?" I ask, stating the obvious as I shove the lettuce back into the crisper.
"I cut my hand with the saw. It was a stupid, lazy mistake, but I think I need stitches."
"Jesus.” I move toward him. "Can I see it?"
"You don't want to," he says, taking a step backwards. "Can you drive me to the E.R.? If I drive, I'm going to bleed all over my truck."
"Of course.” I gather up my phone and keys. "Just let me get my purse from upstairs." I pause before leaving the room. "Is there a finger we need to pack in ice or anything?"
He lowers himself into a kitchen chair. "No, it's still hanging on."
I shiver and run out of the room before he can give me any more gory details. Within a minute, we're climbing into my rental car. Another evening storm stirs the trees, and there's thunder in the distance. As I slide the keys into the ignition, my fingers shake slightly, which I realize is absurd. He's not hurt that badly, but every time I look at the blood on his shirt, I feel woozy.
When my central nervous systems gets overwhelmed this way, I hyper focus on what I can control. Right now, I'm checking points in the car like an airline pilot. Motor running. Headlights ignited. Emergency brake released.
"I'm going to be fine," Seth says, noticing my anxiety.
"Right, of course." I reach for the pink case in the console, open it and slide my eyeglasses on my face. Seth is staring at me. "What? I need glasses for driving."
He rests his head back and says, "Adorkable."
I slide the gearshift into drive and step on the gas a little too hard. The car lurches backwards before I correct my mistake.
"Gee, thanks." If he's trying to relax me with insults, it's not working.
He's already closed his eyes, but he opens them again and looks over at me.
"No, seriously, you have that sexy librarian thing going on."
I touch the little bun I pulled together on the top of my head and give a smile that probably looks more like a snarl. When I dare to look at him again, his head is leaned back on the headrest, his skin marshmallow pale, and, once again, I'm worried.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"No," he says, "I'm bleeding out."
"Ha ha. I'm serious."
I don't wait for his answer before speeding down the driveway to the road. If he passes out on me, I'm going to have to use the map on my phone to find the hospital.
"Don't worry. It would take more than that to mortally wound me."
"How much exactly?" I say. "Asking for a friend."
He lets out a hearty, deep laugh, then swears. "Ow, even laughing hurts my hand."