Chapter 30: Twenty Eight - Smart

Smart

Parish:

Parish stared blankly at the message October had left for him on the mirror. He’d watched transfixed as, while he stood under the warm spray of water, the message slowly appeared on the glass as the steam in the room began to build.

Bandages + gauze in cabinet. It read. Used cotton balls in san bag. Roll, paste, put in bin.

Bemused, he stood there, running his hands through his wet hair, more playing with the suds in his locks than actually scrubbing. What on earth could the message possibly mean? The first part of it was easy to understand; there were bandages and gauze in the medicine cabinet above the sink, got it. But after that was when it got puzzling. Used cotton balls in san bag? What on God’s green earth was a san bag?

He quickly washed off all the soap on his body and shampoo in his hair, and stepped out of the shower, yanking the towel off the hook and wrapping it around his torso in one fluid movement. He tied the ends of the towel in a firm knot as he squinted thoughtfully at the mirror.

Acting on a whim, he opened up the medicine cabinet and pulled out the roll of adhesive bandages and a considerably small square of gauze. He scrutinized it carefully and decided that he could use it if he tore it into thin strips. Eight in total for each individual slash.

After grabbing the bag of cotton balls and the bottle of liquid Betadine from the bottom shelf, he made to close the door when he noticed a thin, white wrapper stuffed behind a half-empty bottle of mouthwash. Curious, he placed the Betadine and the bandages on the edge of the sink and reached for the wrapper.

When he pulled it out and discovered what it was, he almost cried out in mild disgust. Finally, October’s message made sense. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He mumbled under his breath, unable to stop the embarrassed smile that spread across his face.

She’s got a brain too, folks. He thought as he unceremoniously dropped the wrapper onto the edge of the wash basin and picked up the cotton and the Betadine.

He’d been cutting and treating his own cuts for years now, and was well accustomed to the burning sensation that the medicine caused; but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Bracing himself, Parish pressed the soaked cotton ball onto the deepest gash on his left arm, willing himself not to cry out in pain. He repeated the process with the seven remaining cuts, vaguely wondering how Patty hadn’t noticed the wounds.

He’d used the clothes and towel’s she had provided him with to cover the wounds the best he could, and made conscious effort to angle his arms in such a way that she couldn’t see the inner length of his arm. But still, the wounds were fairly substantial, and anyone who was paying the slightest bit of attention would have noticed them right away. Luckily for him, Patty was probably too busy trying to minimize the amount of time she had to spend with him to notice.

A few minutes later, Parish had both cleaned and dressed all eight of his cuts and was only left with the difficult task of getting rid of the evidence. He stared warily at the wrapper, as if it would grow talons and attack him if he so much as looked at it the wrong way. He had absolutely no clue how girls did this, but October’s instructions had been easy enough to understand once he’d figured out what she’d been talking about. Cotton in the bag, roll, paste and dump. Piece of cake.

He picked up the soiled cotton balls and dropped them onto the wrapper. Looking like someone had shoved a lemon into his mouth, Parish rolled the wrapper and the cotton, and using the sticky tab on one end, pasted the roll shut. He didn’t miss the look of obvious relief in his reflection when he tossed the ball into the bin.

“If I never have to do that again for the rest of my life,” he muttered to the mirror. “I’ll die a very happy man.”

Still, all complaints aside, he couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of gratitude towards October. There was no way he’d have been able to dispose of all the cotton balls – almost sixteen of them in total – if she hadn’t done what she did. God knows that he wasn’t smart enough to come up with something as brilliant as what she had.

He washed his hands thoroughly and then proceeded to get dressed. He’d taken more time in the shower than was characteristic for a teenage boy and didn’t want any questions from Patty or the other nurses.

“Finally.” The woman huffed when he emerged from the bathroom, bringing the scent of Guaiac wood, as well as slight hint of lime, out with him. “I thought you’d got sucked down the drainpipe.” She joked, glancing pointedly at the clock on the wall. He frowned. He’d taken almost an hour. If any of his friends back home heard about this, they’d joke that he was starting to turn into a woman.

“Nah.” Parish ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “I wouldn’t fit through that thing. Maybe if I flushed myself down the toilet…?”

That earned him a laugh. “Come on.” The nurse beckoned him forward, regaining her composure. She’d been more surprised about her reaction to Parish’s quip than he’d been. “You need to get back to your room and I need to start medicine rounds.”

He followed the nurse in silence and let her lead him back into the dreary room adjoining October’s. “Dr. Michelson will be to see you after lunch.” She informed him. Parish did the mental math. His session wasn’t for another five hours. How on earth was he supposed to pass the time until then? “Behave yourself.”

The door shut with a soft click behind her.

One.

Two.

Three.

“You” Parish started, after waiting a few seconds until he was sure Patty was gone. “are insane. A genius;” he allowed, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “But insane.”

There was a soft chuckle through the vent. “There’s a fine line between the two.” October replied. He could hear the relief-laced humor in her voice.

“True, I guess.” He shrugged, and then suddenly turned serious. “Thank you. That idea of yours, no matter how insane, possibly saved my neck.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Silence.

Mentally, he grasped at straws, thinking of something to break through the quiet. There was only one thing he could think of, but he’d promised himself in the bathroom that he wasn’t going to ask it. He didn’t want to know the answer.

Or… did he? “What did you do with the…” the trailed off, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. No, it was definitely not an appropriate question to ask. He was suddenly compelled to smack his head against a wall. Why had he done that?

“The…?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Parish.”

“The…” He struggled again. “you know.” He finished useless, waggling his eyebrows at the wall as if she could see him.

“Oh.” There was a pregnant pause. “Let’s not get into that.”

“Okay.” He nodded in agreement. After another pause he said, “Today’s gonna be a long day, huh?”

“Looks like it.” She replied with a sigh. “Darren will be here for our session soon.”

He cocked his head to the side, confused by that piece of information. It didn’t sound like something she’d said just for the sake of saying it. Was she trying to tell him something? Ask him something? “You do… Do you want me to not listen?” He asked warily.

“No. I heard your session, so I guess it’s only fair that you hear mine.”

“Fair, shmare.” He waved her off. “If you’re not okay with me listening, I’ll cover my head with a pillow or something.” He volunteered, scratching his eyebrow absently.

“No, Parish, it’s fine.” She tried to laugh, but it came off as more of a shaky exhalation. “I just wanted to, um, tell you something.”

“Go on.”

A beat passed and Parish was sure she was using the opportunity to take a deep breath. “My past is a messy one. And I know that sounds dumb after all you’ve been through, but trust me, sometimes the stuff he makes me relive can get ugly. Just, please, try not to freak out.”

The words didn’t affect him nearly as much as the tone behind them did. How could someone who’s gone through so much still worry about other people like she did. Don’t freak out. She was afraid that her memories were going to freak him out; not about what they were going to do to her both mentally and emotionally. It was amazing, really. If what he’d guessed last night was true, October had been through so much more pain and hurt than he could even begin to imagine; suffered through more loss than he ever had. And she was still putting other people before herself. He’d never been that selfless. Until recently he hadn’t even thought about his own father. It had always, always been about him.

Maybe there was a thing or two he could learn from this girl. This funny, smart and internally damaged girl.

“I won’t freak out.” He promised, just as a knock on her door signaled their doctor’s arrival.

“October?” He heard Darren call through the wood that separated them. “I’m coming in now.”

“Thank you.” Hurriedly, she whispered her gratitude through the vent. Parish fell silent as the sounds of the door opening, followed by the familiar scraping of wood against the tiles as the young doctor dragged a chair into the room.

The door shut and Parish mentally prepared himself to hear stories that would, maybe, help him understand the girl in the next room a little bit better.

“Good morning, October.” The doctor greeted her cheerily. “How are you today?”