Wishing for Someday Soon

“Oh no, I can’t,” I said, trying to decline the beverage.

“It’s on the house, young lady. You young’uns shouldn’t be out in this weather. I told Meryl not to even come in today.”

“So, if you run water your pipes won’t freeze?” I asked, returning to his earlier question.

“Most times it works,” he said, leaning back against a waist-high soda cooler that sat in the middle of the floor. “Hey, that’s a pretty nasty cut you have on your head there,” he added, studying me intently.

“Um, yeah, I tripped and hit it on the coffee table,” I lied, mentally kicking myself for neglecting to pull my hood up over my head.

“I’m sure. I had plenty of those injuries myself when I was growing up,” he said, looking at me knowingly.

“She thinks she had a concassion,” Kevin said, closing the bathroom door behind him.

“Concussion,” I corrected him, wishing he’d kept that information to himself.

“Did you blackout?” Old Man Wither asked.

I nodded my head. “For a few

minutes.”

“Sick to your stomach?” He asked, stepping closer to inspect my wound.

I nodded my head again.

“Yep, sounds like you gave yourself a fine one,” he said, gently probing at my head. “Young man,” he said, looking at Kevin. “I keep a first aid kit behind the counter. Can you grab it for me?”

“Sure,” Kevin asked, delighted to help out.

“Really, I’m fine,” I started to protest.

“I’m sure you are, missy, but an injury like this needs to be taken care of, unless you rather I run you up to the hospital,” he said, making his point clear.

“No, that’s okay,” I replied, stepping closer so he could see my injury better.

“Kevin, grab me a bottle of water too from that stack over there,” he said, pointing to a display of water sitting off to the side of the counter.

I watched as he opened the first aid kit and removed a large gauze pad. Using his teeth, he tore the corner off the package and extracted the sterile pad. He used the water to douse the pad before gently applying it to my head.

My eyes watered as the pad touched the injury.

“I know it stings, but we need to see what we’re dealing with,” he said, cleaning the area as gently as possible. “Looks like you could use some stitches,” he said, studying my head critically. “You sure you don’t want me to run you up to the county hospital?”

“I’m sure,” I said earnestly, looking at Kevin possessively.

He followed my gaze. “I see,” he said. “Well, let’s see what I can do.”

I sighed in relief as he let the subject go and let him lead me to his stool so I could perch there while he worked on my head.

“I’m going to have to shave a little of your hair away from the cut so we can get the bleeding to stop,” he said, waiting to get my permission.

I nodded, cringing slightly at the thought of having a bald spot.

“Don’t go worrying your pretty head. All your other hair will cover it up just fine.”

He worked without talking after that, deftly trimming the hair that surrounded my cut and then set to work on closing it up. I almost lost my nerve when I saw him pull out a bottle of super glue.

“Trust me dear, if you were at the hospital they’d use the same thing,” he said, patting my shoulder.