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I’d sensed our breakup was coming. I just didn’t see it coming like this, me with a gash in my head, her just ignoring me at the one time when she really had to show up in some way. Any way. She couldn’t just…ignore.
But she was doing exactly that.
Someone knocked and opened the door. A tall woman dressed in blue scrubs, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Hey, there,” she said. “I’m Delilah Burrows, your PA. Tell me what happened.”
I pulled back the unicorn blanket to reveal my bondaged legs. “Wardrobe malfunction. I pulled my pleather pants down, couldn’t get them back up, fell and hit my face.”
“I see.” She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.
“It’s okay. I’m aware of the ridiculousness of my situation.”
“Red pleather, huh?” Delilah said, pulling on some gloves. “Kind of awesome.”
“You can have them because I’m clearly never wearing them again. They’re very dangerous pants.”
She laughed. “I bet you looked great, though.”
I smiled a little. “I won’t lie. I did.”
She pulled the blanket back over my legs and tucked it in around my feet. “Let me take a look at your cut,” she said, pulling up the stool. “You look familiar. Do we know each other?”
“I’m a firefighter in Stoningham. We transport folks off here all the time.”
“Okay, sure.” She lifted the gauze. “Wow. Nice cut. Any loss of consciousness?”
“I wish, but no. Someone else fainted, though.”
“This sounds like a story I have to hear.” Delilah smiled again and pushed the button to lower the bed to flat. “I’m going to stick you with some lidocaine, which will sting a little, then wash out your cut, and then I’ll staple it closed, okay?”
“Sure. Will I have a scar? I kind of want a scar.”
“I’m sorry to say, you probably won’t be able to see it in six months.”
“Damn. If I’m injured by pleather pants, I should have a bad-ass scar.”
She smiled again, the crow’s feet around her eyes crinkling. She was maybe a few years older than I was, and she had three small gold hoop earrings in her left ear, two in her right. She smelled nice, too, even over the sharp antiseptic of the hospital.
“I like your name,” I said.
“Thanks. My friends call me Del, so you should, too.”
“Thanks. I’m Sam most of the time.”
Another smile, this time with eye contact. Lovely eyelashes, and without mascara, too. Delilah opened a drawer, pulled out a vial, unwrapped a needle and loaded it up. “Time to be brave, Firefighter Lewis.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It’s weird to be so close to someone you don’t know. In this case, it wasn’t so bad. I closed my eyes, winced a little as the needle went in above my eyebrow, took a deep breath. Another prick. She was right about the stinging. It was enough to make my eyes tear.
“Hang in there,” Del said, handing me a tissue. The needle pricked, the liquid stung.
“Thanks.” I wiped my eyes and sneaked another look at her. Thirty-five, maybe? Only four years older than I was. “Do you have kids, Del?” I asked.
“I don’t. Not yet, anyway. Someday, hopefully, but the situation hasn’t been right. How about you?”
“No. Same deal. Maybe someday.”
She irrigated my cut with saline solution. “Staples are next,” she said, disposing of the needle in the sharps receptacle. “I’m sure you know the drill,” she said. “You must see some pretty gory stuff in your line of work.”
