Page 14 of Holiday Star
“I can sew it up for you.” I gesture at his head. “If you want, I have suture in my suitcase upstairs. I even have some numbing medicine.”
I always travel with it, ever since Jenny sliced open her foot when we were on spring break in Mexico last year. I had kicked myself so hard for not having it when I had to take her to a shady-looking urgent care that would only accept cash.
I watched them stitch her up, the suture lines uneven and the knots loose. It had taken all of my restraint not to elbow that doctor out of the way so I could do it myself. In the end, I had made so many suggestions and criticisms that the staff asked me to wait out in the hall until he was done.
My offer of free sutures does the trick. Caleb’s frown disappears, replaced by something hopeful. “You can? That would be great.”
Upstairs I fetch sterile gloves, a suture kit, and scissors out of my toiletries bag.
When I come back down, Caleb has moved to a chair at the kitchen table where he’s staring at the puzzle with a perplexed expression. He looks up when I walk in. “This thing is a nightmare. Every piece is the same color of blue.”
“That’s exactly what I said!” I exclaim, feeling vindicated that someone else agrees with me.
I press a square alcohol pad against his skin to disinfect the cut. It must sting, but Caleb is stoic, barely flinching as I apply it to the wound.
It’s oddly intimate, how I’m leaning in with my face so close to his. His breath ghosts over my cheek. A spicy warm breeze. I gently brush the hair off his forehead and out of my way. I wonder how many other women have touched him like this, felt these velvety strands run through their fingers. Wonder how many have kissed those full lips. Brushed their hands over the rippling muscles of his body. Probably a lot. He is famous, after all.
Caleb holds still as a statue, with only his eyes moving. He watches me closely as I focus on his injury. When I shift my gaze to his, he stares at me unblinking with those ocean eyes for so long that it grows uncomfortable. Heat rises from my chest to my cheeks, staining them.
Stop staring and start suturing,I scold myself.
“This is going to hurt, just a little.” I plunge the needle holding lidocaine into his scalp and inject tiny bits at a time, moving around to cover the whole area.
He stops looking at me and squeezes his eyes shut. A muscle ticks in his clenched jaw.
Once the skin is numb, I say, “There, the worst part is over.”
He’s gripping his seat, knuckles white.
“The rest is easy,” I reassure him as I take the suture out of its packaging. The curved silver needle gleams in the overhead lights. Nerves get to me when I bring it to his forehead. I think about how his face is his living. About how it should be some high-powered plastic surgeon working on someone as famous as Caleb.
Not me.
Sensing my hesitation, Caleb opens his eyes and peers at me. He speaks softly, encouraging me. “It’s okay. You’ve got this.”
I nod, blow out my breath, and push the needle deep into his skin.
He starts to sway, looking woozy.
I pause, holding the suture steady. “Caleb? You all right? Just take some big breaths for me.”
He makes a weird wheezing noise, his lashes fluttering and his gaze distant.
Uh oh.
“Caleb—”
“Yes ma’am, I’ll have the fries,” he slurs as his eyes roll until only the whites show.
In slow motion, Caleb slumps sideways off the chair. His arm flails out and sweeps the puzzle off the table. Sea-blue pieces fall with him as he tumbles to the floor, hitting the back of his head with a loud thump on the tiles.
He’s unconscious.Again.
6
Isew up the cut while he’s passed out in a litter of puzzle pieces, not even trying to wake him. I figure it’s better this way, with him motionless and unaware. Better for him to not have the memory of each stitch. Better for me to not have the pressure of his eyes on me while I work.
Suturing is my favorite medical procedure. I find it soothing. The repetitive dip and rise of the needle as it flows through the skin. Then, at the end, when I pull the thread tight and tie it off into a perfect square knot, there’s something very satisfying about that moment, watching the laceration close like I’m zipping it shut. Seeing it disappear. It’s magic with me as the magician.
