“So I’m good to go now?” he asked as soon as the nurse practitioner, Wendy, finished with the last butterfly bandage above his left eyebrow and scooted back on her roller chair.
Nate stood from the stretcher, ready to bolt whether she said yes or no. The airline said there was a chance they could still get him on a red-eye tonight, but in order to make that, he was going to need to hurry.
“All set,” Wendy said with a wink. She’d been doing that a lot, he noticed. Winking.
At first he thought maybe something was wrong with her contacts, but then she tugged a pair of neon-orange glasses down from her spiky blonde hair and said that she didn’t wear contacts when he asked her if there was something wrong with her contacts.
And of course, she’d winked when she said it.
“Okay. Well... thanks for everything.” Nate stepped to the side to get around her. Wendy stepped to the side, mirroring his movement, as she dropped her gloves in the trash.
“Be sure to keep the site clean and dry,” she said with another wink.
“Will do.” Nate leaned to his right. Wendy leaned to her right.
“And protect your skin from the sun.”
“Got it.”
“Avoid swimming.”
“Done.”
“No nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs either.”
“Absolutely.” He’d look up what that meant later. “Anything else?”Hopefully not. He didn’t know how much further he could lean without falling into the wall.
“Call your primary care doctor if you notice any signs of infection around the stitches.”
“Perfect.”
“Redness, swelling, oozing, foul odor—”
“I’ll know the signs.”
“Good.” She straightened. He straightened. But before he could slide past her, she pressed a pad of paper on his chest and started scribbling with her pen.
“If you think of any other questions, you can always call me,” she said with another wink as she tore off the top sheet of paper and held it out in the tiny space between them that was shrinking with every second.
Nate cleared his throat and took a step back, bumping into the stretcher. Why was this room so tiny and this woman so winky? Was there a full moon tonight? Or was this part of Nebraska just full of strange flirty women?
“Thanks, but I’m not actually from around here. I live in New York. Buffalo now, so...” He offered a smile that hopefully looked friendly enough that she wouldn’t pull a needle out of a random drawer and stab him, but not too friendly, so that she understood no matter how long she continued blocking his exit, he wasnottaking her number.
His smile must not have conveyed the appropriate message.
She inched closer.
“Buffalo, huh?” And since he still wouldn’t take the paper, she took the liberty of sliding it into his back pants pocket and giving it a little pat. At least that’s what he assumed she was doing. Between his legs being cold and his pants being stiff from the river water, he couldn’t really tell what was happening south of his beltline anymore.
“I work all the time,” she said with a wink.
He didn’t know what to say to that. Which was probably why hewas leaning again, this time to the left since leaning to the right hadn’t been all that successful two minutes ago.
“Nice long vacation might do me good,” she said. “Buffalo sounds fun. Maybe you could show me around?”
“Oh, yeah, no. Can’t. Sorry. Not going to be anywhere near Buffalo. I’m actually headed to Tennessee.” Why did he tell her that? “A little town called Bugle.” Why did he tell herthat?
“Not the type of place you want to visit though, believe me,” he rushed on. “Especially not in the summer. Humidity. Bugs. People. I’m only going because that’s where my mom still lives. Runs a bed and breakfast.” Would someone please duct tape his mouth shut before he spouted off the address?
