Damn it! I let my guard down…I run cold water over my hand and watch my blood go down the drain. I keep going over and over it in my head. How he jumped up, asking why I had a butcher knife under my pillow…how he screamed that I hid it there and was planning to kill him in his sleep…He was so convincing and anguished, I almost believed him. I changed the linens and set them in the tub to soak. Somehow, I’ll have to wring those out with one hand. I wrap my hand with a clean rag that I dug up and tore into strips.
He leaves for work, still ranting, warning me NOT to go to the hospital unless I want them to know about my plan to kill him. Why didn’t I take that knife and stick it in his head! Instead, I took that knife and put it in the garbage bin of the bakery to make sure it’s gone for good.
I have to keep my hand up on my chest. Every time I put it down, it throbs, and the pressure makes it bleed again. I find some packing tape and put a strip across the palm of my hand. That cut is not so deep and the tape keeps the skin together. It becomes apparent the wound on the top of my hand is deep and needs attention.
I bundle up the babies and go to the music store. I keep my hand in my pocket, as I ask Michael if he has any work for me to do for a couple of hours. I will clean the office, the store, stack shelves… the babies can sleep on the floor in his office and they won’t be any trouble, I promise. I will do it all for $15.00. He takes out $20.00 and I take my hand out of my pocket to push it away. He sees the bandage and the bleeding and asks what is going on. I beg him not to ask me any questions, just help me. He says he’ll let me know when I can clean the office and he hands me the money again.
At the drugstore, I buy Tylenol, alcohol, Neosporin and…a sewing kit…
The babies sleep and I take three Tylenol. I pull a chair up to the window. I open the heavy drapes for better light, and, on the ledge I place a bowl of ice, the Neosporin, and a saucer of alcohol. It takes some time to thread the needle and I think of how I pierced my ears and my best friend Anda’s ears with ice, a needle and thread and think it should work the same way. I let the threaded needle soak in the alcohol. I have a pillow on my knees and put my hand on it. I ice it until I can’t feel it and then ice it some more. I pick up the needle and take a deep breath…
Into the skin on one side, out the skin on the other, pull tight, keep going…It’s ok… ice and sew…ice and sew…Carefully, I sew up my wound. The thought of what I’m doing is worse than the pain. When I’m done, I put on the salve, wrap my hand in clean rag strips and put everything away. I let my guard down…
I then sit and wait for the medicine to kick in. I look out the window…watch as the world goes by, oblivious to me…watch as the world goes on without me…
Next -> The Last Drop
Tags: knife, rag strips, saucer of alcohol, sewing kit