But by the end of the day, the unbearable itch left me barely able to straddle my bike. I swung into an urgent care clinic, and the doctor examined me with silent judgment on his wrinkled old face.
“Do you spend a lot of time outside? In the woods?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Not really. Is it a bug bite?” Then it hit me. Shit. “Wait. Is it poison ivy?”
The doctor nodded slowly. “I’ll give you a steroid injection and some hydrocortisone cream. You can also grab an over-the-counter antihistamine. Be careful when touching it. You don’t want it to spread, especially down there.”
I swore. “How long will it last?”
The doctor shrugged. “The blisters haven’t peaked yet, and it’s quite a small spot. With the treatment, it’ll be mild.”
I glared at him. It didn’t feel small or mild.
“The skin there is sensitive, so it probably feels much worse than it actually is. The itching should improve in a day or two. Keep it clean and dry, and don’t scratch at it. I’d say it should heal in five to seven days. I’d recommend abstaining from sex. You wouldn’t want to spread it to someone else.”
No shit. I couldn’t even imagine what Merci would do to me if I gave her poison ivy. Though technically, it was her fault.
I swung by Merrick’s to borrow his truck.
“You’re going to need to buy a car,” he grumbled. “I’m not letting Jessa borrow my truck when she gets her license.”
I grimaced. “I didn’t even think about her being old enough for that.”
I fidgeted uncomfortably again.
“You’re pretty fucking shifty today,” Merrick observed, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?”
“I have fucking poison ivy.”
Merrick tilted his head in question.
“On my nutsack,” Iclarified.
His roar of laughter echoed through the house. He doubled over, hands on his knees, as he wheezed for air. “How the fuck does that even happen?”
Merci picked that moment to stroll through the door with Kenna, bags of groceries in hand. Merrick continued to guffaw as he reached to take the bags from his old lady.
“What’s so funny?” Kenna asked.
“Hatchet has”—he sucked in a ragged breath and clutched his side—“poison ivy”—another desperate gasp as his body jerked with laughter—“on his balls.”
Merci’s hand flew to her mouth as a guilty giggle slipped through her fingers.
Kenna held back her laughter. “Are you OK?”
“Letting Jessa shoot me with paintballs should distract me for a bit.”
“Did you get the poison ivy from the same woman who gave you a black eye?” Kenna asked.
“She didn’t give me poison ivy,” I argued. “The bush I fell into with my pants around my ankles gave me poison ivy. Worth it though.”
Kenna’s brows raised, but she stayed silent.
“I’ll see you guys later.”
Merci turned away, putting items away in the cupboards, but I didn’t miss the wicked grin on her face. “Try not to hump any trees while you’re out there,” she shouted as I closed the door behind me.
She’d pay for that later.
