Page 95 of Faking All the Way
In the car, I keep one hand on the wheel and reach over to hold her good hand with the other. My thumb strokes over her knuckles, trying to offer some comfort. She’s staring out the passenger window, deliberately not looking at the blood that’s slowly seeping into the fresh towel.
“Talk to me,” I say, hoping to distract her a bit. “Tell me what you were working on when this happened.”
“Reference photos.” She takes a shaky breath. “For the book series. I was cutting some thicker illustration board to mount them on, and the blade was so sharp. My hand just… slipped.”
She’s getting paler as she talks about it, and I squeeze her hand.
“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her. “We’ll get you fixed right up.”
She nods, but she looks small and scared in a way that makes something in my chest hurt. I want to fix this for her, want to take the pain away, but all I can do is drive fast and hold her hand.
At the small local hospital’s emergency room, I get her inside and up to the check-in desk. The receptionist smiles in greeting, wincing as she looks at Kat’s towel-wrapped hand.
“What happened?”
“Cut from an X-acto knife,” I explain. “It seems pretty deep.”
They get her checked in quickly, taking down her information and insurance details, and we don’t have to wait long before they call her name, thankfully. Every second of seeing Kat in pain makes my whole body thrum with the need to do something, fix something.
A nurse leads us back through a hallway to a small exam room. I follow close behind Kat, one hand at the small of her back.
“The doctor will be with you in just a few minutes,” the nurse says, helping Kat onto the exam table. “Try to keep that hand elevated.”
When the nurse leaves, I pull the visitor chair right up next to the exam table, close enough that I can hold Kat’s good hand.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“I hate this,” she admits. “Medical stuff. The smell, the sounds. All of it.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The doctor arrives a few minutes later. She’s middle-aged with kind eyes and efficient movements, and she introduces herself as Dr. Lang.
“Let’s take a look at what we’ve got here,” she says, unwrapping the towel from Kat’s hand.
She examines the cut thoroughly, asking questions about how it happened, whether Kat is up to date on her tetanus shot, if she has any allergies to medications. Then she cleans the wound with saline solution.
“You’re going to need stitches,” she explains. “Looks like about eight, maybe nine. I’ll numb the area first with a local anesthetic, so you shouldn’t feel the actual stitching. Just some pressure and pulling.”
Kat’s face goes even paler at that, and I feel her grip on my hand tighten.
Dr. Lang starts prepping the numbing injection, filling a syringe with clear liquid. When Kat sees the needle, she tenses beside me.
“Look at me, baby,” I tell her quietly, shifting in my chair so I’m more directly in her line of sight. “Just focus on me. Don’t watch what she’s doing.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, green and wide and scared. I hold her gaze as the doctor administers the injection, Kat’s grip on my fingers become almost painful. Her nails dig into my skin hardenough to leave marks, but I don’t move, don’t flinch. Just keep my eyes steady on hers.
“You’re doing great,” I murmur. “Almost done with that part. That’s the worst of it.”
“Just a little burning sensation,” Dr. Lang says as she works. “That’s the anesthetic. It’ll fade in a moment.”
I watch Kat bite her lip hard, trying not to make noise. The sight of her fighting through the discomfort makes my jaw clench. I want to demand that the doctor give her something stronger, desperate to make this easier somehow.
The actual suturing takes only a few minutes. Dr. Lang works with practiced efficiency, her movements smooth and sure. Kat stares into my eyes as if that’s the only thing keeping her grounded, and I keep up a steady stream of quiet reassurances.
“You’re doing amazing, bright eyes. So brave. Almost finished now.”
“Just a few more stitches,” Dr. Lang adds, glancing up at us with an approving smile. “You’re a good boyfriend.”
