I cut my foot this morning, waking in the wake at the edge of my life where experience threatens to flood the sea because it knows bettter, but the sea laughs and covers it anyway, choking off its air. I slipped on a rock in my tiredness and jammed my toes into a crack that was chock-ful of mussels. I flung my arms up for balance and recovered, not falling in the water, sacrificing my flesh instead, making for a deep cut underneath the edge of the three biggest toes.
I guess my sober-her-up beach walk is over.
Ben hoisted me up for a piggyback ride back up to the house, where blood dripped off the ends of my toes all the way home, a scary ride as I turned around at one point on the stairs to look behind us and there was nothing but sky. I turned my head back around and held tighter to his neck. We stopped at the patio and he went inside to get the first aid kit but then I realized it had to be washed so I followed him, limping and went straight to the kitchen. He lifted me up onto the counter so I could stick my foot in the sink and wash it with soap and warm water. Of course it's full of dishes. He puts them all in the dishwasher and then gives the sink a quick spray and scrub with bleach and then very tenderly cleans the cut and my foot and sings a little under his breath so that I am quiet, listening.
He's good at this. Lochlan would have hollered indignantly at me the whole way home to be more careful. Lochlan hasn't had the benefits of having his moods eroded with substances like the rest of us. Especially those of us who didn't realize she was actually fucked up on Klonopin and not easy-predictable Xanax and is still fucking high as a kite. I think I'll give the rest of them to Lochlan so he too can walk in slow motion through this burning building of our lives, not worrying about a fucking thing.
Because it's glorious.
Ben dries my foot and holds the paper towel tightly over the cut to try and stop the bleeding. I bet it's small. They bleed the most, I point out helpfully. Like paper cuts or needle punctures.
Ben shakes his head. I think I may have to get a second opinion because this is going to split right open the moment you put weight on it.
What is? What's wrong? There's Lochlan. He used to be so calm and assertive. He could quiet my nerves and he knew how to fix everything. But that was then. Maybe we should give him the klonopin for lunch.
Just a nick from the shells, I tell him.
She's fine. Ben assures him.
Lochlan leans way down and kisses the bottom of my foot. He plays off Ben. Ben sets the tone, everyone tries to play it cool around him. It works well and so I'm sticking by him.
That cut seems pretty effective. And it's raining now so maybe we should have a movie afternoon upstairs.
Only if it's naked-pizza-movies!
Lochlan looks at Ben and cracks up. I'm in if you're in.
Man, I love seeing you naked, Ben says to Lochlan before he laughs and rolls his eyes. It's been three hours since the last time.
A lifetime, Lochlan says wistfully.
Should I find something else to do? I remind them I'm there.
No you can continue your detox with us but if we get frisky just stay out of the way.
Too far, Lochlan says to Ben.
Yeah, I know. Ben laughs easily. Worth a shot. He winks at Lochlan but Lochlan misses it entirely. His concern drowns all the jokes and the impending flood moves overland.