Page 78 of Dark Ugly Places

The doctor inputs her name and number, which Bambi has to scroll through her phone to retrieve. Her heart beats faster while she reads it out.

“Is Martha a friend, a relative …?” the doctor ventures.

Bambi hesitates. “She works for me.” Her throat clears a little. “But she’s also a friend.”

“How nice,” the doctor adds and looks back at her, smiling. “Okay, we’ll get you stitched up, get you some antibiotics, and you can be on your way.”

A nurse brings in the anesthetic and the needle and thread on a tray, and they prep her leg. She’s numb in no time, the deadness in her leg a sweet relief. “Just a few small tugs. You’ll feel a pulling sensation.”

“Okay,” she replies and flinches.

“I know, I’m sorry, Mrs. Redfern. It’s painful because it’s infected.”

He apologizes again, and Bambi softens. The way he touches her—gently, calmly, carefully … How long has it been since a man was this way with her?

Eight stitches in place, and the nurse places a cotton bandage over the top.

“Keep it dry and clean,” he tells her and places a hand lightly on her shoulder. “It will heal up well. Just be sure to take these antibiotics with food.”

“I will.” She calms her shaking legs by crossing them at the ankles. “What about the pain? Can you give me something for that?”

“Yes, of course,” he answers. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Comfortable. The word rings through her, leaving a deep void in her core. When had she last been comfortable? Her eyes burn, and the room blurs.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Redfern?” The doctor turns and grabs a tissue.

“I’m fine. I just need something for the pain. Something to help me sleep.”

The doctor begins typing out another prescription. “I’ll give you some methadone for the pain. Please try to take it sparingly.”

“Nothing stronger?”

He shakes his head no. “This should suffice.”

He hands her the prescription. Their fingers touch for a quick moment, and Bambi pulls her hand away.

The doctor turns from her. “Mrs. Redfern, is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Anything at all?”

Bambi recoils. Her palms turn clammy, and the back of her knees stick to the plastic cover on the table. “What? No.”

His expression turns grim. “Do you need help beyond what I’ve done to treat you here today?”

Bambi laughs. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but no. I’m fine.” She stands from the table, her fresh stitches pulling. The doctor backs away.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Redfern. But we’re required to ask these questions if we sense a patient might be …” His voice trails off as he looks down at the floor. “In trouble.”

She pulls her skirt down and slips on her heels. “The only trouble I have is you giving me this crap instead of what I asked for.” She waves the prescription at him, aware she is becoming irate. “You know, there are thousands of doctors in this city. I just need to walk next door, and I can get whatever I want, right?”

“Mrs. Redfern, please. I’m just trying to help you.”

She pauses, her blood curdling. The room shrinks around her. The stitches in her leg tighten in her flesh as she stands. “There’s only one person who can help me.”

Later in the afternoon, Martha brings her a cup of tea and sits beside her on the sofa. Bambi sips the hot liquid slowly, her hands shaking. It’s as though she’s walking a tightrope across a deep, black trench. Any moment, she could fall in and disappear.

“I’ll fill your prescription and get you booked with the dermatologist,” Martha says, noting something in her diary. “You have the Cancun summer shoot coming up,” she says quietly. “It’s swimwear.” She hesitates. “Do you want me to tell them you can’t make it?”

If the drugs were in her possession right now, they’d be taking hold. The abnormal hum in the back of her mind would dissipate, and she might have peace for once. “No, no, no, no, no, Martha!” She slams her fist against the sofa, spilling the tea on the fine white fabric. Martha leaps up and takes the cup from her. Their hands touch, and Bambi grasps her fingers for a moment. She squeezes them, not wanting to let go.