I sit here writing, doing my best to keep my fingers quiet as he sleeps heavily beside me. I check my watch, counting the hours when I will need to wake him up to take another pill. My boyfriend had three of his wisdom teeth removed two days ago, one that was impacted. His face is still sore from the surgery, his body confused by the drugs. An hour ago, before he could fall asleep, I changed the gauze pads on his wounds, sitting on his chest and placing my hands in the far reaches of his tender mouth, replacing the blood-soaked bandages with fresh ones.
Science tells us that in the first eighteen months of a relationship, what we think is love or infatuation, is just an onslaught of adrenaline. He and I have been together close to a year now, and after the last 48 hours, I have to ask—really?
The night before his procedure, we bought his favorite six-pack of beer and took a walk to our favorite ice cream parlor down the street. On the way, we passed a small crowd on the corner who had gathered around to check out Saturn on a man made telescope. We took turns looking. I was stunned to see the actual ring around the planet; I thought it must be a hoax. He reassured me that it was real.
As we sat opposite each other in the booth, he got serious. “I’m afraid,” he admitted.
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid, because you’re going to see me in my uglies.”
“What?” I tried not to laugh.
“I’m serious. You’re going to see me bleeding. Out of it. Puffy. Maybe throwing up.” I contemplated this as I got to the end of my cone, catching with my tongue the remaining ice cream that had tried to snake its way down my arm.
As we walked back, I turned to him. “We need to practice.”
“What?”
“I’m the one who’s serious this time. We need to practice so I know how to support you.” I braced myself on the neighbor’s stairs and he put his arm around me and leaned into me, dropping his full weight on my frame. We walked this way for awhile, me supporting the fullness of him as he pretended to be woozy and near fainting. We got home and drank our beer, cuddling close and imagining the day ahead.
The following morning, I took a careful look at myself in the mirror before leaving for work. No heels, hair back, high endurance skirt—pretty, but high endurance. I wanted to play the part of the nurse effectively—brave, stern, and a little bit sexy.
When I entered the operating room, he was laying in the dentist chair with what looked like an ace bandage wrapped around his head that secured a bag of frozen peas on his face.
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