Just like I was.
The walls begin closing in on me. I don’t have air. I can’t breathe. I hyperventilate. My skin goes clammy. My heartbeat skyrockets.I’m totally out of it.
A warm hand slips into mine. “Where did you go, honey?” a soft voice calls to me through the fog of nothingness. I try to focus on her voice and the feel of her warm hand in mine, but I can’t. “Mark is here too. He needs your help.”
I know Mark. Mark means safe. Mark is safe.
My breathing calms down, and I’m able to take a lungful of air.
“You all right?” the woman asks, concerned.
“Yes. Sorry.” I shake my head.
“Don’t you ever apologize for that.” She squeezes my hand. “Now, you are good? Can you help? If not, that’s totally fine. I’ve moved bigger guys around.”
“Bigger guys?” I quirk a brow, trying to lighten the mood I’ve put us both in. “Those exist?”
“A fair point.” She laughs. “This guy is really big.”
“What do you need help with?” I manage to ask.
“I need to check his back. Can you help me?” She sizes me up, and I nearly roll my eyes. I used to be a cheerleader. The bottom of the pyramid.
“Yep.” I help her to lift his torso up and am about to lean him on the back of the couch when she stops me.
“I need to check his back, so you need to hold him. All right?”
I swallow a dry lump in my throat. “All right.”
I climb on the couch on top of his legs and try to find a good position for holding his torso.
“Jesus, woman, just saddle him.”
I shoot her a glare but do as I’m told. Straddling his legs, I’m able to lean him against myself easily, just as she suggested. The woman leans toward his back and rolls his T-shirt up.
“Shit! You stubborn mule!”
“What did I do?” I ask, confused.
“Not you. Him.” She groans and goes to grab her bag.
“What happened?”
“He got hurt a few days ago during his shift and promised me he’d go to see a doctor about it. But this stupid mule never did and got an infection. And on top of it, I think he also caught the flu that’s been going around.”
“Infection?” I strain my neck to look at his back. A nasty burn adorns his right shoulder blade. It’s clearly infected, since the edges are angry red. There’s a huge purplish ring around the wound. It looks raw and painful. I bring my hand to touch the skin next to the wound, and it’s even hotter than his body.
My eyes move along his back, the part of it I can see from this position. It’s rippled with muscles on top of muscles. But it’s also covered with old scars: little round ones, reminding me of cigarette burns I’ve seen in movies, and long, white scars. Some of them are raised more than others. What are those? I try to move a little so I can see farther down his back, but the lady speaks to unconscious Mark.
“It’s gonna hurt like hell, man. Hopefully, you won’t remember any of this.” Then she clicks her tongue. “Or maybe you should. Will teach you to take care of yourself in the future.”
She brings a bottle and a few gauze pads over to him, then wets them before she starts cleaning the wound. Mark stirs and groans, but I bring my arms around his torso, moving my body to his. His face ends up at the crook of my neck, his shoulders atop mine.
While she’s doing her thing, I let myself enjoy this moment. Me hugging another person—a man, a large man. Even though he’s barely conscious, I’m still me, and I’m still able to think straight. I didn’t remember how it felt, and I forgot how much I missed it. How wonderful it is to be connected to someone in a simple hug.
His warmth seeps through my cold skin, enveloping my loneliness in a mighty hug.
I mentally slap myself. The man is sick, he has a crazy fever, and here I am, fantasizing about how nice his body feels against mine.
