someone there might know where Sebastian might be.
“I’ll be there,” I said. If I hurried, I could still get in a quick bath.
The bike trip home nearly killed me. I probably should have begged a ride from William because every bit of uneven pavement reminded me not only about the injury on my neck but also all the bruises I got falling off my bicycle earlier. By the time I got home, I felt battered. Sweat stung my neck and the scrapes on my palms. Gritty and exhausted, I hauled my bicycle into the hallway. Climbing my stairs was like ascending Mount Everest.
There was nothing on my machine from Sebastian and Barney mewed at my heels for her kibbles. After I shook out a bowlful from the box, I called Sebastian’s cell and told him that I was seriously getting upset and he needed to call me as soon as he got this message.
The apartment was too quiet. I started the bathwater running and then turned on the radio for company, only to discover it still tuned to KCOW, Sebastian’s favorite country and western station. I thought about changing the channel, but they played “Bubba Shot the Jukebox.” It was a silly song Sebastian had taught me to appreciate and I found myself singing along, imagining he was here harmonizing.
When the bath was filled, I switched the station to Wisconsin Public Radio and let the calm voices soothe my jangled nerves. In the bathroom, I carefully peeled off the bandages. Marlena was right. I looked terrible. There was a puffy, red welt slathered in greasy ointment across my throat that looked even more painful than it felt. Tentatively, I poked at it, and my stupidity was rewarded with a tear-inducing jolt of pain. Going back out to the living room, I dug the prescription out of my purse and popped a pill. Back at the tub, I lowered myself into the warm water and let out a sigh. I remembered the doctor cautioning me to keep the area dry for a few days, so I soaked without washing my hair. Pushing the door open, Barney hopped up onto the toilet seat and joined me in a bath. She furiously cleaned herself from top to bottom as I scrubbed the day ’s grime from my body with handmade lavender-mint soap.
After the water had cooled, I got out. As carefully as possible, I added more ointment to my neck. Luckily, the goop made the new bandages stick in place, because my nursing skills needed work. The hospital tape didn’t look nearly as neat as when the doctor had done it, especially since I kept underestimating how much I ’d need. The pieced-together result made me look a little like Frankenstein’s Witch.
I fixed my face and chose the darkest lipstick I had to try to draw the eye away from the bandages. Then I found a deep purple, short-sleeved silk shirt with a high collar that mostly hid my neck and a complimentary, loosely flowing Indian -print skirt that hung nearly to my ankles. I slipped into strappy sandals and then realized that I had an hour to spare before I needed to leave even though I planned to walk instead of ride my bike. I sat on the couch and tried to read a magazine, but despite the voices on the radio and Barney’s instant presence in my lap, the apartment still felt too spacious, too empty. Grabbing my purse, I headed out. The setting sun colored the horizon deep pinks and purples. Gnats danced around lampposts in swirls. Darkness lifted the oppressive heat, though the humidity clung to my skin, making it slick. A mosquito whined in my ear, and I slapped at it, quickening my pace. The air smelled of blooming daylilies and freshly mowed grass.
I’d walked half a block in the direction of William’s apartment when I noticed the street name on the sign and remembered it from Sebastian’s black book. I dug the book from my purse, losing a lipstick tube and my keys in the process. After scooping up the spilled items, I sat on the short grass of the boulevard and flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for: Walter.
In less than a minute, I found myself
“I’ll be there,” I said. If I hurried, I could still get in a quick bath.
The bike trip home nearly killed me. I probably should have begged a ride from William because every bit of uneven pavement reminded me not only about the injury on my neck but also all the bruises I got falling off my bicycle earlier. By the time I got home, I felt battered. Sweat stung my neck and the scrapes on my palms. Gritty and exhausted, I hauled my bicycle into the hallway. Climbing my stairs was like ascending Mount Everest.
There was nothing on my machine from Sebastian and Barney mewed at my heels for her kibbles. After I shook out a bowlful from the box, I called Sebastian’s cell and told him that I was seriously getting upset and he needed to call me as soon as he got this message.
The apartment was too quiet. I started the bathwater running and then turned on the radio for company, only to discover it still tuned to KCOW, Sebastian’s favorite country and western station. I thought about changing the channel, but they played “Bubba Shot the Jukebox.” It was a silly song Sebastian had taught me to appreciate and I found myself singing along, imagining he was here harmonizing.
When the bath was filled, I switched the station to Wisconsin Public Radio and let the calm voices soothe my jangled nerves. In the bathroom, I carefully peeled off the bandages. Marlena was right. I looked terrible. There was a puffy, red welt slathered in greasy ointment across my throat that looked even more painful than it felt. Tentatively, I poked at it, and my stupidity was rewarded with a tear-inducing jolt of pain. Going back out to the living room, I dug the prescription out of my purse and popped a pill. Back at the tub, I lowered myself into the warm water and let out a sigh. I remembered the doctor cautioning me to keep the area dry for a few days, so I soaked without washing my hair. Pushing the door open, Barney hopped up onto the toilet seat and joined me in a bath. She furiously cleaned herself from top to bottom as I scrubbed the day ’s grime from my body with handmade lavender-mint soap.
After the water had cooled, I got out. As carefully as possible, I added more ointment to my neck. Luckily, the goop made the new bandages stick in place, because my nursing skills needed work. The hospital tape didn’t look nearly as neat as when the doctor had done it, especially since I kept underestimating how much I ’d need. The pieced-together result made me look a little like Frankenstein’s Witch.
I fixed my face and chose the darkest lipstick I had to try to draw the eye away from the bandages. Then I found a deep purple, short-sleeved silk shirt with a high collar that mostly hid my neck and a complimentary, loosely flowing Indian -print skirt that hung nearly to my ankles. I slipped into strappy sandals and then realized that I had an hour to spare before I needed to leave even though I planned to walk instead of ride my bike. I sat on the couch and tried to read a magazine, but despite the voices on the radio and Barney’s instant presence in my lap, the apartment still felt too spacious, too empty. Grabbing my purse, I headed out. The setting sun colored the horizon deep pinks and purples. Gnats danced around lampposts in swirls. Darkness lifted the oppressive heat, though the humidity clung to my skin, making it slick. A mosquito whined in my ear, and I slapped at it, quickening my pace. The air smelled of blooming daylilies and freshly mowed grass.
I’d walked half a block in the direction of William’s apartment when I noticed the street name on the sign and remembered it from Sebastian’s black book. I dug the book from my purse, losing a lipstick tube and my keys in the process. After scooping up the spilled items, I sat on the short grass of the boulevard and flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for: Walter.
In less than a minute, I found myself
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