Between the Land and the Sea - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,83
rinse the feeling of hospital off your body.
After a few minutes Dutch came in brandishing the clippers, “They still work,” he said,
“You’re not going to take an ear off or anything are you?” he asked, tongue in cheek.
“I’ll have you know I have many hours of experience with these,” I replied officiously, taking the clippers.
He looked at me with narrowed eyes, puzzled.
“On my Aunt Evie’s poodles,” I added with a wicked smile, making him roar with laughter.
Ethan came in and looked back and forth at the two of us with surprise.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” his dad replied with a wink at me, “I’m gonna hit the sack.” He yawned and stretched, lingering for a moment before turning to leave, “Marina?”
“Yes?”
“Tell Abby it was really nice talking to her,” he said.
“Sure,” I replied with a smile, and looked at Ethan, “Ready?” He took a seat at the kitchen table and I stood behind him. I gingerly started to unwrap the gauze around his head to reveal the wound.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” I asked.
“Do you plan on an accident or are you going to perform surgery now?” Ethan asked.
“Very amusing,” I said reproachfully, “You got your bandage wet and I need to change it.” He left, returning with a large box packed full of gauze, tape and bandages. “Wow,” I rummaged around in the container, “You certainly come prepared.”
“My dad’s,” he explained, “Fishermen get banged up a lot.”
“So do surfers, apparently,” I peeled back the pad that covered the large gash on his left temple. I bit my lip when I saw the row of black stitches that held the wound closed, touching the skin around them gently, my heart aching at the sight. I didn’t feel like joking around anymore.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Not really,” he said. I had a feeling he was downplaying it.
“It sure looks painful,” I carefully clipped the remaining hair around the stitches.
“The doctor said it would be more itchy than anything,” he said. I picked out a good sized sterile pad and bandage tape, redressing it as carefully as possible. I felt better once I got it covered up again.
I shaved down the side of his head to match what had already been taken off, and evened up the other side, circling around the chair. I was so focused on getting it symmetrical that I wasn’t nearly as nervous as being close to him usually made me. His eyes were closed and he had the same blissed out look on his face that Charlie got when you scratched him under the chin.
“Last chance for a Mohawk,” I teased him as I started in on the top, “Or, I could carve my initials in the back of your head...”
“You might as well,” he murmured.
I sheared the back evenly, thinking what a shame it was to see his sun-streaked hair fall to the floor. I left the top just a bit longer and blended it all in evenly, stepping back to admire my work. Not bad at all, I thought. It was a pretty good version of a military style crew cut and I thought it suited him. He rubbed the top of his head and looked up at me.
“Well?” He asked.
“You look like a soldier,” I said, and he did. A really handsome one, I thought. He got up and brushed some hair off his shoulders. He went out the front door and peeled off his shirt to shake the hair out. I didn’t want to get caught staring, so I busied myself kneeling down to gather up the hair from the floor.
“I’ll get that,” he said, heading to the bathroom to take a look at himself.
He came out with a smile, satisfied. “Thanks, it looks good. Do you cut your dad’s hair or something?” he asked as he swept up the remaining hair clippings. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
“No, I’ve only ever cut Pierre and Fifi’s before.”
“Who?” he asked, looking suspicious.
“Evie’s toy poodles,” I confessed, “They like me better than the groomer.” I was relieved when he chuckled.
“I’m honored to be your first human,” he said with a wry smile, “And I like you better than the groomer too.”
“You were a whole lot easier than a squirmy little dog,” I laughed, “Plus, a nice round head beats teeny little poodle paws.”
He started laughing, “So, do you want to go somewhere?”
“How are you feeling?” I asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy?”