Page 28 of Suddenly Entwined

She sighs, stretching her neck from side to side like she’s prepping for a big fight.

“Yes. Get it over with.”

I pull her hurt arm away from her chest and run it beneath a gentle flow of water.

“It’s not bad. I think the fact your skin was wet made it look like a lot more blood than there was. You have bandages?”

“Chris left the medicine cabinet stocked.”

One more reminder that I’ve seen my best friend's little sister's boobs. Maybe the fact I’m providing her with first aid balances all this out to neutral. He wouldn’t want me leaving his sister to bleed down here by herself, would he? Of course not, I think. I’m the bestest friend ever.

I pull an unopened box from the cabinet, and a tube of something called Arnica cream that says it’s for bruising. I smooth a piece of gauze over the cut and secure the edges with some tape, Caro’s powder blue eyes appraising me as I finish.

“Good?” I ask her.

She nods.

That damn bruise spans her whole shoulder, about the width of my hand. Gently, I brush my thumb around the angry edges. Caro emits a soft noise from the back of her throat, completely unlike the sounds of pain she made earlier. She watches as I squeeze some of the thick cream from the tube and doesn’t stop me as I begin to apply it to the worst spots.

“That hurts worse than the cut.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, using the lightest touch as I finish.

I am sorry she’s hurting, but there isn’t a single cell in my body that will regret these moments.

“Go get dressed and I’ll clean up this glass.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s my house.”

“I will anyway.”

She slides off the counter, careful to keep her towel in place, and I pick up the chunks of glass off the shower floor. Rinsing the smallest shards down the drain, I wipe up the few drops of blood off the ground and give the sink a quick rinse.

I find Caro in her kitchen, boiling water for tea and snacking on a banana. She’s wearing slippers and leggings and a baggy t-shirt.

“Do you want a tea?”

“No, thanks. I should get back upstairs in case someone wakes up.”

She smiles. “Do they wake up at night very often?”

“Not much. Usually if they have a bad dream or aren’t feeling well.”

“That must be hard.”

“Waking up at night?” I shrug. “I’m used to it.”

“Must have been hard to get up in the morning, though, when they woke up a lot. You know, as babies?”

Her expression changes to something darker, more shuttered, and I can imagine what she’s thinking. How long have I been doing it alone? Did I have help? I don’t know what Chris has told her about my history. About my life.

“I was basically on my own with Louisa since day one,” I offer, figuring it’s simpler to get this info out in the open.

Caro’s eyes look soft but her expression isn’t one of pity, she’s open to hearing me tell my story.

“There was a complication right after birth and I lost their mom. Everything happened really fast.”

“That sounds impossibly hard. I’m sorry.”

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