Page 11 of Leave a Mark
“Easy…” the doctor cautioned, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back down. “You’ll need to take it slow for a while.”
Wren scanned the room. A food tray on a cart stood between her bed and her neighbor’s. The snorer was now quiet, lying with her back to them. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she didn’t want to watch as a doctor examined another patient.
“What time is it?” she asked, patting the bed in search of her phone.
“It’s a little after two o’clock. I need to check you before you’re released, and we should do that before the day shift leaves.” He gave her a doubtful look. “Otherwise, it’ll take hours.”
“Okay, let’s do that,” Wren said stupidly. Even though she’d spent most of the night and day sound asleep, she didn’t want to be stuck there any longer.
As he raised the head of her bed, Wren stole a glance at the ID badge on the doctor’s coat.Dr. Leland Hawthorne.His name sounded like a tool, but he didn’t act like one.
He held up the end of his stethoscope. “I just want to make sure your lungs are clear. Deep breath.”
Dr. Hawthorne placed the heavy drum to her chest. It was cold, even through her gown.
“And another…" He slid the device across her chest and leaned in closer. He smelled like sagebrush and soap, like he worshipped the outdoors but never missed a shower.
“Lean forward just a little and take another deep breath.” Dr. Hawthorne moved the stethoscope to her back.
And when he did, a tiny gap opened between two of the buttons of his dress shirt, and she caught a glimpse of dark curls. It surprised her that someone like him didn’t wear an undershirt.
“Okay, it all sounds good. Now, lean back, and we’ll check your incisions.”
Wren froze. She knew from her trip to the bathroom that she wasn’t wearing underwear.
“Um… I think they’re fine.”
“Well, I hope they are, but I need to make sure.”
She gripped the top of the sheet and leveled him with a glare. “What if I say no?”
Wren expected him to push back, but instead his eyes softened. He seemed to bite the inside of his cheek and think for a moment.
“I tell you what. I’ll stand right here with my hands in my pockets, and you pull up your gown and peel back the bandages. If everything looks ok, I’ll send you home. Deal?”
Wren’s heart started hammering in her chest. Dr. Hawthorne seemed like a nice guy.
And that changed nothing.
“Turn around first.”
Without hesitating, he faced the door. Wren quickly pulled up her hospital gown to her waist and then drew the sheet up around her hips and tucked the edges under her butt. She pushed the top of the sheet down until it cleared the bottom of the bandage, which was pretty much right above her vajayjay. With one hand, she held her gown out of the way, and with the other, she carefully peeled back the white tape.
“Ugh, gross,” she hissed at the sight of her swollen abdomen. Two incisions, one even with her belly button and one straight down in her bikini zone, leered back at her. Some bruising purpled the skin between both.
“Can I turn around yet?” he asked, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.
Wren sighed. She was covered, but it wasn’t pretty. “I guess,” she said, ready for him to recoil in disgust.
He turned. “Wow, that looks great,” he announced, smiling.
Wren frowned. “No, it doesn’t. It looks awful. It’s all lumpy, and I’ve got two more holes now.”
Dr. Hawthorne shook his head, but Wren got the feeling he was trying not to laugh. “No, this looks really good. The swelling is normal. It’ll go away in a few days, and your incisions are minute, if I do say so myself." Wren thought she saw a hint of pride in his eyes. “Once the stitches come out, you can use a scar vanisher, and in six months, they’ll hardly be visible.”
Wren sighed. She’d have to wait a year before she could touch up the tattoo, and even then, scar tissue didn’t take ink as well as unblemished skin. At least the scars were in a darker tat.
“What exactly did you do? I mean… what went wrong and how did you fix it?” she asked.
