plunked the bag on the table and rummaged around it, pulling out a few rolls of bandages, scissors, tweezers and several small, blue medicine bottles. Chenda presented her bandaged hands to the rotund and jolly cook. Whistling again, he began to unwrap the dirty strips, first from her right hand and then from the left. He examined each hand closely, using the tweezers to pull off any stray bits of lint or dirt.
“Hmm...” he mused.
“What?” Fenimore demanded. “That 'hmm' sounded serious. Can you help her?”
“Sure,” he said looking at Chenda, “But your fingers are swelling a good bit. I'm worried about permanent damage or infection in that left hand. That ring is gonna have to come off, miss.” He pulled a large pair of cutters from the canvas bag. “I'm sorry about this.”
All the little bits of Edison are flying away from me...
Chenda considered how much she had lost in the last ten days. The physical things didn't trouble her much. For as much as she liked to shop and bring things home to Edison, the trinkets meant little. Easily bought and easily forgotten. It was the time with her husband that was the real treasure, and that was gone for good.
She wasn't particularly sad that the house had burned, either. The estate and Edison were inseparably linked in her mind. Her life at home was a happy one, but his absence from those intimate spaces perverted the place. Every corner of the house haunted her. Her sole regret was losing her only picture of Edison to the flames. Her memory of him would have to sustain her for the rest of her life.
Finally, it came down to the ring, the last symbol of their union in marriage. It too would go. Chenda said, “Well, I guess you better get on with it then.” Her voice broke.
Till death us do part....
Kingston turned Chenda's palm face down and slid the bottom blade of the nippers under the wedding ring. He pressed down hard, and with a small ping, the ring was cut. Kingston reached for a small pair of pliers and widened the gap in the fine gold band enough to let it slide off her finger. The sight of the mangled ring saddened Chenda, but she endured it. Kingston applied a liquid to her hands that stung the raw skin. She sucked air in through her teeth.
“Easy, lass. It will settle in a minute.” Kingston reassured her. “Let this dry for a few minutes and then we'll apply a new dressing to your wee paws.”
He reached forward and placed one of his big hands on her chin, turning it to better examine her injuries. “Your cheek won't need any salve from me. The bruising will fade in three days at the most, but that eye,” he pulled her lower lid down with a rough thumb, looking at the blood trapped around her brown iris, “that will take more than a few weeks to heal on its own. It's going to draw a lot of attention. I could help you with that, if you like.”
“That would be nice. I hardly recognize myself.”
“For this procedure, I am going to need an assistant. Which of these two yahoos do you want holding you still while I poke you in the eye?” he asked.
Chenda imagined, in the history of the whole world, no one had ever uttered such a string of words. “Either,” she answered, but added with a giggle, “which, in their case, probably means both.”
Fenimore grinned and said, “I guess I volunteer.”
Kingston pulled a chair behind Chenda. “OK, Dulal, sit here. Try your best to listen up and follow along. Put your feet flat on the floor, and then set your elbows on your knees.” Fenimore did as he was told and Kingston grunted approval. “Now,” he continued, “hold your wrists together and make a U shape with your hands. Good, just like that.”
He turned to Chenda. “Just lean back, miss.” He placed a big hand on her forehead and guided her head backwards into Fenimore's waiting hands. “This might pinch a bit at some point, but it's important that you stay very still, and leave that peeper open. I'll
“Hmm...” he mused.
“What?” Fenimore demanded. “That 'hmm' sounded serious. Can you help her?”
“Sure,” he said looking at Chenda, “But your fingers are swelling a good bit. I'm worried about permanent damage or infection in that left hand. That ring is gonna have to come off, miss.” He pulled a large pair of cutters from the canvas bag. “I'm sorry about this.”
All the little bits of Edison are flying away from me...
Chenda considered how much she had lost in the last ten days. The physical things didn't trouble her much. For as much as she liked to shop and bring things home to Edison, the trinkets meant little. Easily bought and easily forgotten. It was the time with her husband that was the real treasure, and that was gone for good.
She wasn't particularly sad that the house had burned, either. The estate and Edison were inseparably linked in her mind. Her life at home was a happy one, but his absence from those intimate spaces perverted the place. Every corner of the house haunted her. Her sole regret was losing her only picture of Edison to the flames. Her memory of him would have to sustain her for the rest of her life.
Finally, it came down to the ring, the last symbol of their union in marriage. It too would go. Chenda said, “Well, I guess you better get on with it then.” Her voice broke.
Till death us do part....
Kingston turned Chenda's palm face down and slid the bottom blade of the nippers under the wedding ring. He pressed down hard, and with a small ping, the ring was cut. Kingston reached for a small pair of pliers and widened the gap in the fine gold band enough to let it slide off her finger. The sight of the mangled ring saddened Chenda, but she endured it. Kingston applied a liquid to her hands that stung the raw skin. She sucked air in through her teeth.
“Easy, lass. It will settle in a minute.” Kingston reassured her. “Let this dry for a few minutes and then we'll apply a new dressing to your wee paws.”
He reached forward and placed one of his big hands on her chin, turning it to better examine her injuries. “Your cheek won't need any salve from me. The bruising will fade in three days at the most, but that eye,” he pulled her lower lid down with a rough thumb, looking at the blood trapped around her brown iris, “that will take more than a few weeks to heal on its own. It's going to draw a lot of attention. I could help you with that, if you like.”
“That would be nice. I hardly recognize myself.”
“For this procedure, I am going to need an assistant. Which of these two yahoos do you want holding you still while I poke you in the eye?” he asked.
Chenda imagined, in the history of the whole world, no one had ever uttered such a string of words. “Either,” she answered, but added with a giggle, “which, in their case, probably means both.”
Fenimore grinned and said, “I guess I volunteer.”
Kingston pulled a chair behind Chenda. “OK, Dulal, sit here. Try your best to listen up and follow along. Put your feet flat on the floor, and then set your elbows on your knees.” Fenimore did as he was told and Kingston grunted approval. “Now,” he continued, “hold your wrists together and make a U shape with your hands. Good, just like that.”
He turned to Chenda. “Just lean back, miss.” He placed a big hand on her forehead and guided her head backwards into Fenimore's waiting hands. “This might pinch a bit at some point, but it's important that you stay very still, and leave that peeper open. I'll
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