Page 47 of Enzo

"Thanks, I think I am. We're going to have to reschedule dinner."

"I figured that," she laughed, feeling better now that she heard Deja's voice. "I met Enzo and Ven. I have to tell you, if I found a family like that, I wouldn't want to leave them either."

"You realize Ven's not even old enough to drink."

"I peeped that. Still, it's like being surrounded by your sexy husband and fine-looking son."

Deja laughed loud and long. "Fire, I don't think mothers ever think of their sons as being sexy. It's like a rule that all children still look six even after they’re adults."

"See, this is what happens when your biological clock is ticking, and there are no prospects. You don't know that all children only look like they're six. What will I do, Deja? I think I'm bound to grow old and die alone."

"Fire, you're beautiful, and any man would be lucky to have you."

"That's easy for you to say, Deja. You have the man of muscles, Enzo, eating from the palm of your hand. I'll have you know I saw this tall, dark chocolate man yesterday. He was drool-worthy; he caught me looking and took off so fast you would have thought someone yelled fire. I feel my age creeping up on me."

"You're twenty-nine."

"I'll be thirty in six months, and I'm alone. Who will want me when I turn thirty? I'm like milk about to expire."

"Fire, calm down. You're not about to expire; you're not an old maid. Thirty is the new twenty. You're positively a spring chicken."

"Says the woman with the boyfriend. I bet you don't sleep alone at night. Sorry, you're right. I'm worrying over nothing. I'm glad you're fine. Do you think Matt will come after you again?"

"No, I think I've heard the last of him."

"I'm glad. You deserve a break. I'm going to go. Are we going to try and get together next Sunday?"

"Sounds good."

Safire hung up, leaving Deja to worry about her best friend. There wasn't anything she could do right now, and Enzo's side was bothering her.

"Enzo," she knocked on the bathroom door then walked in to see him looking at a long gash in his side.

"You need stitches," she walked to the sink and turned on the water, looking for the anti-bacterial soap to wash her hands.

"They will help, but if I leave it alone, it will heal."

"No, absolutely not. We need to take you to the ER."

"Deja, I can't go to the ER, and our healer has gone to ground. I will suffer until they heal, or you could suture them for me."

Her face paled. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"I am." He stood and went to the linen closet. The supplies were in the back of the closet. He brought out sterile packages that he used for suturing as well as bottles of disinfectant for wounds.

"On the ship, things would be easier. The healer would use a medi-las to seal the wounds. It hurt, but the repair process was almost instantaneous. On Earth, we can't use those modern conveniences."

"Why?" She put on a pair of gloves and got the needle and thread ready. It was on days like this she was happy her mother taught her how to sew.

"The medi-las gives off a signal that your military has become adept at picking up. We banned the use of it some time ago. The negative ramifications outweigh the benefits."

"Every time you use it, the government gets a step closer to your location."

"Yes."

"This is going to hurt."

"I know," His hand came up to caress her face. "Do it."

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