The Rebel

Liam-2

Before I get too sentimental, I put her into the armchair, while I spread the dry towel over the sofa. I place her on it, then, as best I can, I wrap her into the wet one. She’s moaning, but it’s not really a protest, she only opens her eyes once, for a second, then as soon as our eyes meet, she falls beck into unconsciousness. By the time I’m finished, sweat is rolling off my face, and my forehead is at least as hot as hers. I don’t feel like leaving her alone, still I must run downstairs to the office for my medical kit. Her wound needs to be cleaned as soon as possible, to prevent any further infection.

In a rush, I gather everything I might need, and am already on my way back to the apartment. I approach the sofa with some fear, and then as I see that although her face is still red, she’s breathing, I heave a sigh of relief. I first disinfect the bruise on her temple, luckily, it’s not deep, really just a surface injury. It will heal soon, unlike the one on her arm. That one is an uglier, deeper wound, and it’s oozing too. The girl jerks with pain while I clean it, and at this point I’m happy she’s in a half-conscious state, that way she feels the pain a bit less. I briefly consider that I should stitch the wound, then I drop the idea. I can’t sew someone up when she’s passed out! I decide to put sterile bandage over it and tape the edges down. I pull up the sheet so I can access her knee and feel she is still hot. Her pulse is also fast, I still need to give her something for fever. There isn’t much I can do with her knee, so I put a bag of frozen peas on it. Thanks to Dylan for this, he’s the one who shops from the two of us. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t even have that in the house. When I’m done, I bring a glass of water and a painkiller and try to lift her into sitting to help her wake up. Now I consciously make sure not to touch her sore arm.

“Hey, girl, I mean… I don’t know your name, but you should take this,” I take her face from both sides, and give her a gentle slap or two. “Wake up. Can you hear me?” she groans, but that’s about the only reaction I get, and I’m beginning to lose my patience. Could it be I’ve done something stupid and I still should have called an ambulance? How the hell will I explain it if she totally collapses here, in my apartment? They will think I’ve had something to with that… good God! I nervously run my fingers through my hair, feeling more and more frightened as I watch her face, yet I can’t take my eyes off her. Now she looks a little better than when I found her, her features are a bit smoother and the blush of fever even look good on her cheeks. She reminds me of an enchanted Snow white. A princess who has wandered away in Diesel jeans. A pretty girl. Very pretty. Her honey-brown hair gives a perfect frame to her oval face, and I swear, I have to make my hand into a fist to stop myself from digging my fingers into those messy locks. Her eyelashes are thick and black, and her mouth… I’m totally out of my mind for thinking these things! I’m out of my mind – I punch the edge of the sofa with frustration, and now the words break out of me much louder: “Wake up, princess! Do you hear me?”

I don’t know where I took this nonsense from, it just slipped out of my mouth, still I’m very surprised when her eyes actually open. She looks at me dizzily as if trying to interpret my words.

“At last! Damn it, you were giving me the creeps!” I shake my head. “Come on, let’s sit you up. You must take this thing.”

“I… I’m cold,” she whines, but lets me pull her up.

“You have high fever, hence the cold compress, but you should also take this pill. We need to bring your temperature down urgently.”

I push the glass and the pill towards her, but she turns her head with exhaustion. Her eyes close again, so I give her a little shake.

“Take it!” I press on.

“What’s… this? I’m not…” she breathes quietly.

Then it dawns on me that she probably doesn’t trust me. She might think I’m trying to give her some heavy drug.

“This is just for your fever. Advil, you know? For fever and pain. I’m only trying to help.”

Slowly, she lifts her eyes on me, I guess, trying to find out whether she can trust me or not, but she all her strength is gone. She falls back onto the pillow.

“Who are… you?” she whimpers.

“I’m a doctor. The doctor you wanted just before, remember?” I say, leaning close to her, trying to wear the most trustworthy doctor smile. Like when you have to convince a child in the dentist’s chair to open his mouth because it won’t hurt. Kids quite like me, so it usually works, and it works now. She tries to reach over to the glass, but she can hardly do even that. I help her by putting her fingers around the glass, and reach my hand towards her with the pill in it, but she, instead of taking it, opens her mouth. What now? – my eyes grow big. Do I put it in her mouth, or what? I hesitate for a few seconds, but since her mouth is still agape, I put the pill in there. She closes her lips, with that, she practically, licks my fingers. God! This is greater every second. We lift the glass together, she takes a slow sip, then another one, then she begins to cough.

“Are you all right?” I ask with worry. She only nods, and lies back, helpless, like a sack. But she has swallowed the pill, at least.

＊

I’ve been walking up and down the living room for fifteen minutes, I freeze at every little move she makes, I listen to her breathing, check her forehead every thirty seconds. I hope I made the right decision when I picked her up from my doorstep instead of handing her over to the ambulance, but somehow, I feel responsible for her, now that she fainted at my gate. Then I’m thinking, it may not be an accident that I found her here. She didn’t want to go to hospital, but she may have still been looking for help, and a neon sign advertises my clinic at my gate. It was clear that she wasn’t going to register for an urgent root canal treatment, but with the state she’s in, I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t notice the word dentist beside my name. I freeze in front of her, dig my fingers into my hair with tiredness, and stare at her chest rising and sinking at an irregular speed. How long had she been sitting on my step unconsciously before I found her? If only her fever could be brought down at least, then I might get an answer to my questions.

Finally, I convince myself that I’m not helping by wasting my time like this, so I feel her forehead one more time, fix the pillow under her head and switch off the big light. I only leave the reading lamp on, then leave her unwillingly and go out to the bathroom for a shower.

＊

The blood freezes in my veins as I step into the living room in my track bottoms, and see someone kneeling on the floor in the dim light, studying her from quite close.

“What the—” the words break from me, but as he turns towards me, I immediately recognize Dylan. “Damn it, why are you lurking here in the dark? You are totally freaking me out.”

His eyes shift between the sofa and me.

“What have you done to her?” he asks with a frown. “What the hell did you use to knock her out like this? And all that, without me?”

“Are you stupid?” I shake my head, and throw the towel into the armchair. “I’ve done nothing to her.”

“It doesn’t look like that, mate. I think she’s unconscious. I know I’ve told you to move on, hook up, and so on, but—"

“Cut it out!” I push him to the side, and I also kneel down next to the sofa. When Dylan continues to look at me with raised eyebrows, I shrug my shoulders. “I found her like this.”

“You’ve found her?” he repeats slowly stressing every sound. “Man, what are you talking about? This is not a dog on the loose. this is a… a…” he gives her a better look, taking a lock of her hair between his fingers. He tilts his head, while a naughty grin appears in the corner of his mouth, the one I know so well, and what always means trouble. “This is a f*****g cute chick.”

I feel the still wet, but no longer cold beach towel that she is wrapped inside. Dylan scratches his forehead and looks at me with distrust.

“If this is some crazy b**m game, then let me just tell you that I want to be a part of it.”

“Shut up, will you?” I roar at him with annoyance. “Make yourself useful instead. She’s got high fever. We need to change her cold compress.”

He gets up and lifts his hands with resignation.

“Okay, man. But don’t you want to tell me what the crap is going on? You know, just to agree what I should tell the cops.”

I reach under her armpits from behind, lifting her gently, and signal to Dylan to pull off the sheet. He follows suit with a grin.

“What the heck is that? A swimsuit?” he leans close to her lap.

“And what if it is? Move from there,” I push him to the side. “She was lying here, in front of the house, on the doorstep when I got back. She was half conscious,” I explain.

“So why didn’t you—"

“Why didn’t I call the ambulance?” I complete the question that sounds rather logical, while he shrugs. “I was going to, but… but she begged me not to. She said she needed a doctor, but she didn’t want to go to hospital.”

“Don’t get upset, mate, but I don’t think she was referring to a dentist.”

I stare at him as we put the girl back onto the sofa. I leave to wet the towel again, and Dylan follows me.

“I’m aware of that, genius, but what could I have done?”

“Well, you could have called the ambulance,” he spreads his arms theatrically, and f**k it, he’s right. “She might be druggie who has overdosed herself.”

“She’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me…”

“Gosh, Liam!” he rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “What will we do if she dies? How will you explain—"

“I’ve checked her,” I interrupt with anger, because that’s exactly I am terrified of, he doesn’t need to be smart. “I’ve checked her arms and all, she doesn’t take drugs, Dylan.”

“Okay,” he rubs his forehead and exhales, while I wring out the towel.

“And what if she’s up to no good? If she’s a thief or a criminal? She waits until you fall asleep, then she knocks you out and robs your apartment?”

“Did you see the girl?” I look at him, raising my eyebrows. Is he really scared of this feather-weight girl?

“She might be pretending. Just faking everything.”

“What else is she faking? Her 40-degree fever?”