Molly - Sarah Monzon Page 0,26
stepped into a nature documentary and David Attenborough is going to start explaining the peculiarities of the subspecies of female Millennials?”
“As if a man, even if he does have an English accent, would know anything about human females.” Nicole laughed.
“We sew,” Amanda finally supplied. “At least, they sew. I make the drinks. Or attempt to, anyhow.”
Ben squirted a clear liquid over the wound and caught the pink overflow as it ran around to the back of Amanda’s calf. “Who creates the neatest stitches?” He looked up into Amanda’s eyes. “This cut is going to need to be closed up.”
Amanda nodded and squeezed Betsy’s hand. “Jocelyn has the prettiest stitches. They’d even make a granny cry.”
“Jocelyn only sews fabric, not people!” Jocelyn shouted from the living room. “Chloe and I are doing fine right where we are, thank you very much.”
Ben chuckled. “I think I’ve got this covered.” He looked back to Amanda. “Are you allergic to anything?”
She shook her head.
“Diabetic or have a condition where wounds heal slowly?”
“No, doctor.”
He smiled. “Ben is fine.”
Betsy leaned close to me and whispered, “Yes, he is.”
I groaned. Between Amanda spending too much time in locker rooms and Betsy behind the scenes with fast-living musicians, the two had picked up on a few bad (male) habits.
Ben rifled around in his medical bag then produced a squat bottle with a long-nosed tip like a nasal spray. “Unlike the king’s horses and men, I can put Humpty Dumpty together again.”
“Did he just call you Humpty Dumpty?” Jocelyn yelled from the other room.
My lips twitched. “Yep.”
Nicole shook her head. “Oh, doc.”
Ben looked confused. “What? What did I do?”
Betsy clucked her tongue. “You do not compare a woman to an egg with a name even remotely sounding like Humpty Dumpty. It’s just not flattering.”
Red climbed up his neck. “I didn’t—that’s not what I—”
Amanda pasted on a mournful face. “And your bedside manners were so smooth up until that point.”
“And here we have the male of the species, confused and confounded in the midst of a herd of women,” Nicole said in a horrible English accent, mimicking the narrator of a nature documentary.
“A herd? Really?” Betsy pushed her hair off her shoulder.
Nicole shrugged. “A gaggle?”
“That’s worse.”
“It’s better than a murder like a group of crows,” I replied. “But other options could be a fluffle like bunnies or clowder like cats. A parliament like owls or a shiver like sharks. Oh, how about a zeal like zebras? Or cete like badgers?”
“Or a pride because you are all fierce,” Ben added, “like lionesses.”
“I am woman, hear me roar,” Jocelyn called, still from the other room.
Amanda beamed. “Doctor Ben, I do believe you have redeemed yourself.”
“Great. Now how about we close that wound of yours?” He waited for Amanda to agree then shook the vial in his hand. “This is a tissue adhesive glue. It’ll lower the risk of any type of infection in your wound and you won’t have to go to the hospital to get stitches put in or removed.”
With precision, he applied the medical glue and finished working on Amanda’s leg. He gave her some over-the-counter pain medication and simple instructions, then stood. “Well, it was nice meeting you ladies, although I’m sorry for the circumstances.”
My friends all made similar comments, and I was thankful they’d behaved themselves. I walked Ben out of the kitchen, Chloe making Princess Cupcake Sparkle gallop toward us so that we all met in front of the door.
“Thank you for helping Amanda.”
“My pleasure.” He placed his hand on top of Chloe’s head. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”
I opened the door. “Bye, Chloe.”
She made her unicorn wave her hoof at me and I waved back. My gaze lifted and I caught Ben looking at me. No, not looking. More like studying. His eyes focused, then un-focused, then focused again. Like he was seeing me, then not, then seeing me again. He gave his head a small shake before he lifted his own hand in a wave and turned to head for his car.
I shut the door behind him, my thoughts a swirl of confusion. Like different thoughts had gotten into different vehicles and traveled different paths but ended up at the same intersection. Except the lights at the intersection were going crazy. On. Off. Flashing. My car-thoughts started and stopped. There were thought fender-benders and even a thought head-on collision. Chaos and pandemonium ensued in my brain.
What had that strange look he’d given me at the door meant? Why did my pulse pick up a little