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“Doctor Paris, and Isaiah!” This time she sounds like that mother from home alone, screeching at her kids. I chuckle, looking down at the very red rag. Oh, dear…the room spins, and I inhale deeply, trying not to pass out from a lack of oxygen.
“What is it, Pam?” a deep voice asks as he rushes through the door. I look up, expecting an older man. Instead, blue eyes lock with mine, and Isaiah freezes. He blinks, frowns, and then blinks again.
“Boy, I know you’ve seen many beautiful women in your life, now snap out of it. The girl's hand is drippin’ blood all over!” Pam snaps.
“Sapphire?” Isaiah asks as a young woman comes rushing into the room behind him.
“Sorry, Pam, what do we got?” the woman in a white jacket asks as she slips gloves on and heads straight for me.
“Rogue log,” is all I manage to say as I finally pull my eyes away from Isaiah to look at my doctor. “I’m sorry,” I say, making her frown as she starts to remove the rag from my hand.
“For?”
“Assuming you’d be an old man. Not because I assume all doctors are men, but because of the small town ‘This office has been here for fifty years!’ vibe,” I chuckle, and she smirks.
“Well, you’re only half wrong. This office has been here for fifty years because my grandfather and father both practiced here. My father still does on Thursdays,” she says as she assesses my wound.
“Oh, so if today was Thursday, I wouldn’t have been wrong.” I laugh nervously, trying hard not to look over at Isaiah. Pam has left the room, mumbling about blood, and the doctor is already prodding my injured hand.
“Exactly. Now, I need to clean this out, and then get it bandaged. You’re bleeding a lot, but this wound isn’t very deep. Isaiah, can you grab her—” she trails off as she reaches behind her, but swipes at air. She turns and looks behind her and frowns. “You okay?” she asks when she sees Isaiah standing there. Staring at me. “The tray?” She gestures to the empty metal tray where I assume her medical supplies are usually laid out for her. Most likely by Isaiah.
“Sorry, that’s probably my fault too. Isaiah and I know each other. He’s my brother’s best friend,” I say, and her head snaps back at me.
“You’re Anton’s sister?” she asks, clearly shocked.
“Stepsister.”
“Does he know you’re here?” Isaiah asks, speaking to me for the first time. His trance is broken, and he’s pulling supplies out of drawers and placing them on the tray for the doctor.
“No. I didn’t know you switched professions,” I add, trying to change the subject. Isaiah scoffs, shaking his head.
“Why would you know anything about me?” He sounds upset, bitter.
“Fair. Ouch, but fair.” And then I hiss when the doctor presses a cleaning solution to my cut.
“Sorry, thought I’d get it over with while you were distracted.” She cringes at me, and I can tell this whole interaction has thrown her off her usual confident doctor game.
“If you don’t need me for anything else?” Isaiah says, pausing for point two seconds, before storming out.
“Well. That was awkward,” I say. “I’m Sapphire, by the way.”
“Marie.”
It doesn’t take her long to wrap up my bandage, but when it’s time for her to collect my information, I freak out.
“No one will ever know I was a patient here, right?”
“Just the staff.” She frowns but doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t matter, though, she’s a woman too. She knows…don’t we always?
By the time we’re done, I’m exhausted and just want to go home.
* * *
I sling my leg over the bike seat and sit, preparing to ride it home. I can’t hold the handlebar with my left hand, even bandaged, but at least the painkillers kicked in, and it’s not throbbing in pain anymore.
“A bike?” Isaiah asks, walking over. “Let me give you a ride home.”
I consider saying no, but I’m tired as well as mentally drained.
