The nurse is talking to me.
I’m pretty sure she’s been talking for a while, actually.
“... keep it dry for the first twenty-four hours. After that, you can gently clean around it with mild soap.” She’s a short, stout woman with half-moon eyeglasses and a voice like a GPS app. “You’re gonna hate me for this, but no makeup for a while. You’re a natural beauty, though, so I’m sure you won’t mind too much…”
I smile and nod, or I think I do, or I try to. My head hurts when I move it, so maybe I just thought about nodding without actually moving a muscle.
All I can see is Matvei’s face when I said I’d never seen him in my life.
In the literal blink of an eye, everything changed. Before his eyelids closed, those irises were as pure and blue as ever. When they opened again, they were black with fury.
“... you’ll want to pat it dry, not rub. Rubbing can pull on the sutures...”
Never seen him in my life.It was such a shameless lie that you kinda gotta applaud me for the sheer audacity. I could’ve gone with “He’s an old colleague”or“He’s actually my stalker, please do not stop”or even “Oh, Matvei, yes, hi, thanks for stopping by; no, nothing’s the matter, why do you ask?”
No. I looked him dead in his beautiful, murderous face and pretended he was a stranger.
That stung him, I could tell, if only because it was such a surprise. Usually, people you’ve almost kissed don’t look rightthroughyou like that.
“… Mrs. Snyder? Are you following me?”
I blink and reorient to the present. “Yes,” I say in a monotone voice. “Dry. No rubbing. No makeup. I’m very beautiful. Got it all. My mind is a steel trap.” I tap my temple just to prove my point.
The nurse watches me a second longer, unsure if I’m joking or if I’m simply a nutcase. Then she goes back to her clipboard. “The stitches will dissolve on their own, so you shouldn’t need to come back unless you see signs of infection. That means redness, swelling, pus, fever over a hundred and one...”
She must decide that her ongoing monologue is no longer worth the wasted breath, because she trails off and sighs wearily. Then she sets a pamphlet on the little table next to the bed.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” she concludes. “Someone will be by to discharge you soon.”
She steps through the curtains encircling my bed, tugs them closed again, and then I’m all alone.
Alone.
Finally.
I close my eyes and try to let the quiet settle over me, but it’s not peaceful like I was hoping for. Hospitals aren’t quiet places, not by any means, and even if they were, there’s enough cacophony ringing out inside my own head and body to keep me wired.
My cheekbone throbs; my thoughts race. I can feel my heartbeat thudding in my temples and fingertips.
I dig the heel of my hand against my good eye and try to breathe. I did the right thing. That’s what I keep telling myself. Raymond would’ve smelled Matvei on me from a mile away, and then he would’ve dug until he found something, and then he would’ve hurt Matvei, or tried to, and even if Matvei won that fight—which he would—there’d be consequences. Bodies. Questions.
I did the right thing.
So why does it feel like I just reached into my own chest and ripped something out?
I open my eye and look down at my ring finger. The emerald-cut diamond winks up at me under the fluorescents, smug and cold.
Good wives don’t get hit as often.Ha. That theory’s been thoroughly disproven.
I let my hand flop back to my lap.
I lie there for a while, halfway into a self-induced coma. I’m doing my best not to think of anything at all, neither Raymond nor Matvei, neither Giana nor the obligations that are waitingfor me outside this hospital. Just the blank nothingness of the everlasting void, please and thank you.
It takes me a while to realize that the dull, repetitive buzzing I’m hearing isn’t in my own head. It’s coming from my purse where it rests on the side table. Groaning, I roll over to grab the purse and extract my phone.
Missed Calls (2): Dani Shmani Fee Fi Fo Banan-y
Texts (1): Raymond Snyder
