Olivia (47 page)

“
What happened?”

“
You fainted,” he explains. “Twice.
Don’t unwrap that bandage,” he says. “Your pretty little head can’t
handle the gruesomeness,” he says with a smile. I glance at my hand
and notice the dressings have changed.

“
Did they sew it up
already?”

“
No, that’s where we’re going
now.”

I cringe. “What did the doctors say?”

“
We haven’t seen one yet. That’s
where we’re going now. The nurse just bandaged you up so you
wouldn’t try to peek again. Plus, she knows how to control the
bleeding a little better than I do.”

“
It really hurts, Dad.”

“
I know. We’ll get something for
the pain. Just stick with me, okay? Don’t pass out anymore. It’s a
little unnerving. Thank God your mom isn’t here,” he adds. “She’d
be in a state of panic.”

“
How long was I out?”

“
Just a couple of minutes,” he
explains.

“
And they helped all of those other
people already?” I ask, knowing there were at least thirty other
people in that waiting room when I showed up.

“
Contessa, there is a children’s
wing here named after me. That has to be good for a place at the
front of the line. Don’t worry, they help the critical people as
they come in.”

“
Okay.”

We finally make it to a private room, and the nurse
helps me up onto the bed. “On a scale from one to ten, what’s your
pain level?” she asks.

“
Eight?” I say, unsure. “It’s
bad.”

“
Okay. The doctors will be in
shortly, Mr. Holland.”

“
Please, call me Jack,” he says.
She nods politely and leaves the room.

“
Doctors, plural?” I
ask.

“
I requested an orthopedic
surgeon,” he says. “Your hands are kind of important in what you
do.” He smiles weakly.

“
Could it be that bad?” I ask. I
hadn’t even considered that. What if I
can’t
paint anymore? Physically?

“
I doubt it, Tessa, but I don’t
want to take any chances.”

I nod, trying to remember how deep the cut was but
feeling woozy again. “So what is the best way to cut an onion?” I
ask, focusing on something else. My stomach suddenly aches with
worry.

Dad chuckles and glares at me. “Very carefully,” he
answers. “Cut it in half, then lay it flat.”

That does make more sense. “Okay.”

“
You okay?”

“
Yeah. About those pain
meds...”

“
I think Rosa was going to get
something. The nurse,” he explains when my expression lets him know
I don’t know who that is. “It looked pretty nasty, huh?” he
asks.

“
Dad, can we talk about something
else?”

“
Of course. Well, before this
happened, we were talking about coming home on the weekends next
year. Have you thought about that? Or do you think you’ll play it
by ear?”

This isn’t what I want to talk about, and I’m
relieved when Rosa comes back into the room. She sets up an IV drip
of morphine, letting me know the pain will lessen soon. She once
again says the doctors will be in soon.

“
You know, Jackson really does want
your room, but if you’re going to come back home often, we’ll wait
a few more years.”

I have no problem with them handing my room over. I
have a loft that will be mine two months after I move out for
college. I decide now might not be the right time to remind him of
that. Not that he’s forgotten, because I’m sure he hasn’t. I think
he must just be in denial.

“
Dad? After I graduate, you know...
will I still have a curfew?”

“
Absolutely,” he answers quickly.
“Although we’ll probably extend it another hour. As long as you’re
living with us, you’ll need the curfew.”

“
I
don’t
need a curfew. Maybe
you
need the curfew,”
I correct him brazenly.

“
I think you’re half right. Yes,
your mother and I need you to have a curfew so we can still sleep
at night, knowing you’re not in some sort of trouble in the middle
of the night. And you may not want the curfew, but I think you need
some boundaries.”

I groan, half of it in response to his answer; half
in response to my pain. “When I go away to school, you’ll never
know where I’m at,” I tell him. “How’s that any different?”

“
You’ll be in someone else’s care,”
he says. “That’s why you have resident advisors. That’s why you
have to live on campus your first year. It’s more for the parents,”
he laughs, but I still don’t find any humor in it.

“
It just seems silly. The day I
move out, you get to flip a switch and don’t have to worry about me
anymore. Just flip the switch now,” I suggest. “You don’t need to
worry about me.”

“
Now?” he asks.

“
Graduation,” I clarify. “I mean...
I’ll be with someone who worries about me.” I bite my lip,
punishing it, surprised that it let the words out.
It must be the morphine talking.

“
Not while you’re a minor, Liv,” he
says plainly. “And again, not while you’re living under my
roof.”

The doctors push the door open cautiously, hearing
the end of our conversation.

“
Mr. Holland, I’m Dr. Bander.” Dad
stands up to shake his hand.

“
Jack,” the other man says, “it’s
good to see you again.”

“
Charles,” Dad addresses him,
shaking his hand as well. “This is my daughter, Livvy,” he tells
them.

“
And how is our patient?” Dr.
Bander asks me.

“
In pain,” I answer instinctively,
then realize the pain isn’t as bad as it was. “In less pain, but in
pain.”

“
What happened?”

I explain my cooking lesson to them, describing my
creative but ineffective way of cutting the onion. “I’m great with
tomatoes,” I add. My dad smiles, sitting down again and putting his
hand on my arm.

“
Look at me, Tessa,” he says as the
doctors begin to take the temporary bandage off.

He smiles at me warmly and runs his fingers through
my hair, tugging on a strand when he reaches the end of it. I smile
back, feeling very loved. “I love you, Daddy.”

“
I love you, too, sweetheart. Who
knew we should have been giving you morphine for affection all
along?” he kids with me.

“
It’s deep,” Charles affirms, “but
she didn’t get the muscle. Some stitches and minor therapy when
they come out, and she should make a full recovery. Definitely
nothing to worry about.”

“
Good. I just didn’t want to take
any chances,” Dad explains to the man. “Thank you for coming in to
see her.”

“
Anytime, Jack. We should hit the
course soon. It’s been awhile.”

“
It has. I’ll call to set it up.”
They shake hands once more while Dr. Bander starts to prep my hand
for stitches.

“
It won’t hurt, Livvy, but it will
feel strange.”

“
You probably don’t want to watch,”
my dad warns me. “Just close your eyes. Think about something
happy.”

Immediately, I focus my thoughts on Jon. If he has
no roommate over the summer, I can spend the days over there. I can
spend every day at his dorm. My parents won’t care what I do during
the day. He and I can just make the days our nights, and enjoy one
another as much as we want.

“
What were you thinking about?” Dad
asks me, startling me to alertness. I look down at my hand, and am
shocked to see it bandaged.

“
He’s done?”

“
You were out. Smiling, but
out.”

“
Did I faint again?”

“
I think it’s just the morphine. Or
a lack of adrenaline or something. You’re fine. You were a good
patient.”

“
Can we go home?”

“
Yes. Your mom has sent me about
thirty text messages, checking on you.”

“
Jon’s supposed to come for
dinner,” I remind Dad.

“
She’s called him. He’s probably
already on his way there, but I can have her call if you’ve changed
your mind... if you don’t feel up to having company.”

“
No, I want to see him tonight...
but we didn’t make dinner,” I slur.

“
We’ll order in, Contessa. We can
try the dish again soon, when your bandage comes off and I have a
chance to dull all of the knives.” He helps me off the table and
puts his arm around me to steady me.

“
Sorry, Dad.”

“
Don’t apologize. This was pretty
minor. I’m sorry you cut yourself under my watch,” he says. “I
should have been watching
more
.”

I scoff, making it clear that I know it was my
fault.

I can hear my brother shouting to my mom as we
approach the porch, announcing my arrival. He struggles with the
locks and the heavy door, but finally opens it up.

“
Livvy! Are you okay?”

“
I’m fine, Trey,” I tell him,
bending down to accept the hug he wants to give me. “I only lost a
thumb.”

His eyes widen as he first looks for my face to
break its composure, and when it doesn’t, he pulls my arm to his
face so he can see. “You did not!” he exclaims. I laugh, and
suddenly notice Jon sitting on the couch with a checkerboard in
front of him. I mouth a simple ‘hello’ to him as my mom envelops me
in a tight embrace.

“
Does it hurt?”

“
They gave me medicine. It did
hurt. It doesn’t so much now. I just feel...
crooked
,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think of to
say.
Uneven? I feel that, too.
“Dizzy,” I
clarify, remembering the word.

“
Jon, can you get her settled on
the couch?” Dad asks. He immediately gets up and comes to me,
taking Dad’s place by letting me put my arm around his neck for
balance. He leads me to the sofa and guides me into a horizontal
position. Mom brings some pillows and arranges them under my
head.

“
I think I might throw up,” I tell
them, feeling suddenly worse and clammy.

“
It’s okay,” Jon whispers as he
arranges my hair away from my eyes. “You’re sweating.”

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths until
the feeling passes.

“
Here are a couple of towels,” Mom
say. I peek to see who she’s talking to, and watch her hand the
towels to Jon. “I can take over from here,” she offers.

“
It’s fine.” Jon stays next to me,
linking his pinky finger with mine on my bandaged hand. “Hand me
the checkerboard,” he says to my brother. I hear the plastic pieces
scatter onto the glass coffee table, and a few moments later feel
gushes of cool air hit my face. I smile, realizing he’s fanning me
with the game board.

“
That feels nice.”

“
You’re going to have to come up
with a better injury to keep me from going to Utah tomorrow,” he
jokes with me. “I know you don’t want me to go, but this was going
a little too far.”

“
I didn’t tell you about the
terminal illness I picked up in the hospital,” I mumble. “I have a
week to live.”

“
I guess it’s been nice knowin’
ya,” he says casually. I let out a weak laugh. “Can you feel
anything?”

“
I feel your pinky holding my
pinky,” I tell him. “Is that what you mean?”

“
No pain?”

“
Not right now, no. It was gross. I
fainted.”

“
Fainted?”

“
Dad said I fainted twice after
looking at it.”

“
You masochist, you. He said it
didn’t hit any muscle though, right?”

“
That’s what they say.” I finally
open my eyes and grin at him. “But I got your attention,
right?”

“
You always have that, baby. I
heard you were going to make dinner for me?”

“
It was a surprise. I’m still going
to. It’ll just have to wait a few weeks or so.”

“
I’m excited. Thank you. I’m not
going to turn that down.”

“
Liv, Chinese?” Dad
asks.

“
I’m not really hungry. Get
whatever you want. I may pick at something later.”

“
Jon? Do you like
Chinese?”

“
That sounds fine,” he says,
turning his focus back on me. “I guess this doesn’t affect your
plans for Wyoming, huh?”

“
No, I’m fine. I just hope I’m not
nauseous tomorrow. That would make for an interesting plane
ride.”

“
Here, Tessa,” Dad says, handing me
a glass of water and a pill. “This should help with
that.”

“
Is it going to make me
tired?”

“
Maybe a little. But you should get
some rest, sweetie. Jon can stay as long as he wants, but you need
to let the healing begin, okay?”

“
As long as he wants?” I ask with
enthusiasm.

“
Until curfew,” he amends his
answer. “You just take and take and take,” he teases with me. I
smile and swallow the medicine.

Jon sets the water down on the coffee table, then
leans over and presses his lips against mine. “Hi,” he says softly,
nuzzling my nose with his.