Chapter 2 - The Bright Room With the Cold Table
The hallway was too bright after the bathroom. That is what I remember first.
Dad carried me and the light hurt my eyes. The air did not smell like steam anymore. It smelled clean and cold, like paper. My towel had slipped down off my shoulder and the air touched my arm where it was red and it stung. I pressed my face into Dad's shirt. His tie tickled my cheek.
He had my bear tucked under his chin to keep hold of me. I could feel its soft foot against my hand.
My name is Ellie. I was four that night and I did not understand why the lights buzzed.
A nurse showed us into a little room. The table had white paper on it and it crinkled loud when Dad set me down. It was cold through the towel. I pulled my knees up.
Dad kept one hand on my back. His sleeves were still rolled up. I could see his watch on his left wrist. He kept checking it like he was waiting for something to happen.
"Easy, sweetheart," he said. His voice was low. "You're okay. I'm right here."
The door opened and an older man came in. He had gray hair and glasses and a white coat with a thing around his neck. He moved slow. He smiled at me first, not at Dad.
"Hi there, Ellie," he said. "I'm Dr. Harris."
I didn't answer. I held out my bear a little so he would see it.
He washed his hands at the sink. The water ran loud. Then he pulled a little stool up close to the table. He didn't touch me right away. He just looked.
"Can I look at your arm?" he asked.
Dad nodded for me. "Show him, Ellie."
I let the towel fall back. My upper arm was all pink and red and shiny. It hurt to move it. Dr. Harris leaned in under the bright light. His glasses caught the light for a second. He was gentle. His fingers hovered above the skin, not pressing.
"Does it hurt here?" he asked, pointing near but not on it.
I nodded. Tears came up again.
Dad's hand got heavier on my back. "Breathe with me," he whispered.
Dr. Harris opened a drawer and took out white gauze and tape. He showed me the roll. "This is going to feel soft. Like a bandage for your bear after, okay?"
He wrapped it careful around my arm. The gauze was cool at first, then warm. Dad held me still around my middle with one arm and held my bear with his other hand so I could squeeze its ear.
"You brought her just in time," Dr. Harris said to Dad.
Dad let out a breath I could feel. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I — we came right over."
Dr. Harris pulled the paper on his clipboard toward him. He clicked his pen. His voice stayed even, the same as when he asked to look.
"Routine questions, so I can write it down right," he said. "What temperature was the water?"
Dad paused. He looked down at me, then at the doctor. "I don't — I wasn't in there when she got in. It was a home bath. It felt hot when I lifted her out."
Dr. Harris nodded and wrote. "And how long was she in the tub?"
Another pause. Dad's thumb moved back and forth on my back. "I don't know exactly," he said. "A few minutes? I got home and heard her crying."
He said it quiet. I could hear his heart through his shirt because I was leaning against his arm. It was beating fast.
Dr. Harris did not frown. He just wrote some more. He asked if I had slipped under, if the red place had blistered yet, if I had put any cream on it. Dad answered what he could. Mostly he said, "I don't know," and "Not that I saw."
I watched the clock on the wall. The second hand moved in little jumps.
When the bandage was done, Dr. Harris taped the end flat. He patted the table near my leg, not my arm.
"Good job," he said to me. "You were very brave."
Then he handed Dad a blue paper. "Aftercare sheet. Keep the dressing clean and dry. No bath until I see her again. You can sponge her off. Watch for swelling or fever."
Dad folded the paper and put it in his shirt pocket. "When do we come back?"
"Two days. We'll recheck and change the dressing." Dr. Harris stood and typed something into the computer by the door. I heard the keys click. "I'm noting the scald and the history you gave me in her chart, so the follow-up doctor has it."
Scald. I didn't know that word. I thought of hot.
Dad lifted me off the paper. It tore a little under my leg and made a loud rip. He pulled the towel back around me tight and tucked my bear inside against my chest so it wouldn't fall.
"Thank you," he told Dr. Harris.
May you like
The doctor held the door. The hallway light was waiting again, bright and buzzing.
I rested my head on Dad's shoulder. My arm throbbed under the white gauze, dull now instead of sharp. Dad's watch pressed cold against my leg where he held me.
