“Benjamin, long time no see.” The doctor places his leather bag on the floor next to us and pushes his thick, black-rimmed glasses up his nose.
“Hey, Doc.” Baz tracks his movements.
“What do we have here?” The doctor pulls Baz’s shirt up and over his head, revealing the bloody gauze on his shoulder.
“Gunshot,” I answer for Baz.
“I see.” Dr. Levinstein clinically removes the bandage to take a look. “Straight through?” He repositions Baz so he can examine his back.
“Yes. Clean shot.”
“Mmmm. It looks very clean. You patched him up?” the doctor asks me.
“I did my best to stop the bleeding and dress it.” Dr. Levinstein scrutinizes me. I want to shrink. Does he suspect something? Do I look guilty? What does he see? Being in this fucking house is beginning to stress me out.
“You did well.” He redirects his focus back to Baz. “We’ll have to clean you up a little better and disinfect the openings. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
Baz curls his lip. “I couldn’t tell you.”
“You’re getting one tonight.”
“Fantastic,” he replies dryly.
Before Dr. Levinstein starts working on Baz, he checks his temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate. His temp is normal, but blood pressure and heart rate are low, as to be expected after a ballistic fucking trauma. Luckily, they’re not so low it’s life threatening.
“Can I get you anything?” Frederick asks Dr. Levinstein as he stands at attention in the corner of the room.
“Some fresh towels, Frederick, please, and some warm water.”
“Right away.” Frederick disappears promptly.
Baz begins to ramble as the doctor works on him. “Frederick has worked for Gianni since before I was born. He’s one of my uncle’s most loyal employees.”
Dr. Levinstein grunts. “This guy is, too. They’ve both taken care of me for as long as I can remember.” Baz laughs.
“It’s been a long time since I treated you like this. I think the last time was when you were sixteen and you broke your arm in one of those underground fights your uncle told you to stay away from.” Dr. Levinstein peers at Baz over the rim of his glasses.
“You used to fight?” I ask, intrigued.
“I told you. I tried to be someone I’m not.” There’s a tightness in Baz’s tone. That must have been when he was trying to be more like Benny. To get his attention. To gain his respect. And his love.
“You found your way,” Levinstein attests.
“It made me tougher, can’t deny that.”
“I won’t.” The doctor purses his lips in clear disapproval.
Frederick returns with the towels and water just as Dr. Levinstein finishes disinfecting the wound on Baz’s back.
He wipes away the remaining dried blood then quickly dries his skin and dresses the wounds way better than I ever could. The gauze he uses is three times thicker and fluffier than the kind I could get my hands on.
“You’ll have to change the dressing periodically. Are you staying here? I can leave instructions with Frederick.”
“Yes.” Baz glances over at me. “We’ll be here a little while.”
“Very good.” Dr. Levinstein reaches into his bag and retrieves a syringe. “Moment of truth.”
Baz makes a throw up face as he looks away from the needle.
