anything to do with the skin, let alone how the condition of its connective tissue layer determined whether or not you needed stitches.
Hot and smart? They made those?
The girl had my head pressed firmly against the chair with her left hand. Her bloodied right rested on her lap. I couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t seem bothered by the blood. Not many people can tolerate being covered in someone else’s. I wondered if she was like a medical student or something, but before I could offer to go get a napkin, she raised her right hand out of my view and wiped it clean.
Gross.
I’ll admit to rubbing food off on my shirt once-and-a-while, but wasn’t that taking it a bit far? I was considering whether that was a deal breaker when she stood up.
“ Keep this amount of pressure on the wound,” she ordered. “I need to use the lavatory.”
“ Sure,” I said, taking hold of the handkerchief. I started to say thank you when she basically hopped straight into the air. I sat wide-eyed as her hair brushed lightly against me. In one clean leap, she cleared my legs and landed in the aisle with a feather’s touch. She grabbed her backpack and hustled down the aisle to the back of the bus.
I scratched my head. That was odd.
In the past five minutes, I had managed to tease my libido, scald my crotch, and catch a world-class elbow with my forehead. I needed things to stop moving-burning-throbbing for a moment. I was grateful that my seatmate’s bladder had obliged. Once I thought it was safe, I checked the hanky. The bleeding had stopped. My head was still a bit wobbly—and I knew I was going to have a funny looking bump in a few hours—but that was easy enough to deal with. I wiped up the remaining blood and leaned back in the chair. On the TV, the dynamite guy had just finished the D and the A of DAN. He was jumping up and down with joy.
I was staring off into space, when the girl cleared her throat beside me.
Maintaining my confident, debonair style I jumped in shock.
She’d snuck up on me again. How the heck did she keep doing that?
She did that half eyebrow raise thing again and gestured to her chair.
“ Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t notice you standing there.”
I hopped out of the seat to let her by, but instead of sitting down, she grabbed my head in her still chilly hands and squinted at the wound. I looked around awkwardly. There were people staring. I guess it wasn’t common to see a runway model dressed in black fatigues conducting a first-aid seminar in the middle of an aisle on a moving bus.
The little girl sitting across from us pointed at my forehead and announced, “Booboo, daddy. Snow White is fixing the big booboo.”
I smiled sheepishly. Big booboo was right.
My seatmate was indifferent. She finished her exam and nodded. “It has clotted. Go back and clean the skin gently. I will take care of everything when you return.” She spoke in that same commanding monotone. I tried to pay attention, but a painful sensation was building behind my eyes. I just knew that a headache was coming. My seatmate was trying to give instructions about how I should treat the wound, but the surging pain was too distracting. I was trying to push back against it when she handed me the big black Band-Aid.
I blinked at the Band-Aid. “They make black ones?” I grinned. Sure, she was a bit bossy, but at least she had a sense of humor. Maybe she was military…I mock saluted her. “Orders received, ma’am. I’ll get on it right way.” I extended my hand. “My name’s Dieter Resnick, by the way.”
Her mouth gaped in response. I had just enough time to marvel at the whiteness of her teeth before she clamped her mouth shut. They had to be the whitest teeth I’d ever seen.
I scratched my head. “What’s yours?” This girl was kinda dense. Maybe she was a model.
“ You know not my name?” She frowned, and then her eyes widened as if she were remembered something. “Oh, yes! My apologies. My name
Hot and smart? They made those?
The girl had my head pressed firmly against the chair with her left hand. Her bloodied right rested on her lap. I couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t seem bothered by the blood. Not many people can tolerate being covered in someone else’s. I wondered if she was like a medical student or something, but before I could offer to go get a napkin, she raised her right hand out of my view and wiped it clean.
Gross.
I’ll admit to rubbing food off on my shirt once-and-a-while, but wasn’t that taking it a bit far? I was considering whether that was a deal breaker when she stood up.
“ Keep this amount of pressure on the wound,” she ordered. “I need to use the lavatory.”
“ Sure,” I said, taking hold of the handkerchief. I started to say thank you when she basically hopped straight into the air. I sat wide-eyed as her hair brushed lightly against me. In one clean leap, she cleared my legs and landed in the aisle with a feather’s touch. She grabbed her backpack and hustled down the aisle to the back of the bus.
I scratched my head. That was odd.
In the past five minutes, I had managed to tease my libido, scald my crotch, and catch a world-class elbow with my forehead. I needed things to stop moving-burning-throbbing for a moment. I was grateful that my seatmate’s bladder had obliged. Once I thought it was safe, I checked the hanky. The bleeding had stopped. My head was still a bit wobbly—and I knew I was going to have a funny looking bump in a few hours—but that was easy enough to deal with. I wiped up the remaining blood and leaned back in the chair. On the TV, the dynamite guy had just finished the D and the A of DAN. He was jumping up and down with joy.
I was staring off into space, when the girl cleared her throat beside me.
Maintaining my confident, debonair style I jumped in shock.
She’d snuck up on me again. How the heck did she keep doing that?
She did that half eyebrow raise thing again and gestured to her chair.
“ Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t notice you standing there.”
I hopped out of the seat to let her by, but instead of sitting down, she grabbed my head in her still chilly hands and squinted at the wound. I looked around awkwardly. There were people staring. I guess it wasn’t common to see a runway model dressed in black fatigues conducting a first-aid seminar in the middle of an aisle on a moving bus.
The little girl sitting across from us pointed at my forehead and announced, “Booboo, daddy. Snow White is fixing the big booboo.”
I smiled sheepishly. Big booboo was right.
My seatmate was indifferent. She finished her exam and nodded. “It has clotted. Go back and clean the skin gently. I will take care of everything when you return.” She spoke in that same commanding monotone. I tried to pay attention, but a painful sensation was building behind my eyes. I just knew that a headache was coming. My seatmate was trying to give instructions about how I should treat the wound, but the surging pain was too distracting. I was trying to push back against it when she handed me the big black Band-Aid.
I blinked at the Band-Aid. “They make black ones?” I grinned. Sure, she was a bit bossy, but at least she had a sense of humor. Maybe she was military…I mock saluted her. “Orders received, ma’am. I’ll get on it right way.” I extended my hand. “My name’s Dieter Resnick, by the way.”
Her mouth gaped in response. I had just enough time to marvel at the whiteness of her teeth before she clamped her mouth shut. They had to be the whitest teeth I’d ever seen.
I scratched my head. “What’s yours?” This girl was kinda dense. Maybe she was a model.
“ You know not my name?” She frowned, and then her eyes widened as if she were remembered something. “Oh, yes! My apologies. My name
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