“How do you mean?” I knew exactly what she meant but I wanted to keep her talking.
“I don’t know, I guess now that I’m a little older I can look back and see that he had some real flaws.” She looked away and I could tell the words pained her to say. “I don’t mean that he wasn’t a good man but he couldn’t really keep his pride inside. He could be boastful and arrogant. I thought in the beginning that he was just cocksure and trying to impress me, but after the accident his true colors showed through and he wasn’t very good to me.”
“That’s really terrible, Ava. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Maybe I deserved it.”
“Why in the world would you say that?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know if I ever belonged here. Now I haven’t seen my mom in five years, my brother is off in New York living his life, and here I am. All because I followed a cowboy to Montana and got married,” she said with a little laugh.
“Why can’t you go to Spain and live with your mother?”
“I was born here. I’ve never even been there. That’s my parents’ country, not mine. I don’t really have a place that’s mine, I guess. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’d like a swig of that if you wouldn’t mind handing it to me,” she said, pointing to the whiskey.
I handed her the bottle. She took a big gulp and then sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really understand why you’re here. I mean, I know your uncle’s here but why would you want to leave your fancy life in L.A. to come out here and shovel shit?”
I laughed. “I’m not sure one would call what I had a fancy life. I never wanted anything more than to become a doctor, and that kind of consumed me. Everything for my career fell into place perfectly.” I paused for a long time, searching for the right words, but nothing eloquent came to me. “I fucked up and basically caused a young girl’s death. I’m probably going to be sued for malpractice, as well as the hospital. I feel terrible about it.”
“Do you feel more terrible about being sued or for the girl’s death?”
It was a question that should have been offensive but wasn’t. It hit a nerve, but only because I questioned the same thing myself. Her eyes were wide, watching me intently. “I feel terrible for the girl, the life lost, the family that’s mourning her. But up until this week I was also terrified that I would lose my job. When I got home the day it happened, I realized I had nothing but my work. I didn’t know what to do with myself. My father sent me here.”
“To clear your head?”
“Something like that, although if I know my father he might have sent me out here more to deflate my head than anything.”
“Oh.”
“It might have worked because the job seems a lot less significant now. I feel terrible for the girl and her family. That’s it.”
She nodded, smiling with compassion.
We carried the cage back to Ava’s cabin and as we set it down, the door swung open, gouging the fat part of my palm near my thumb.
“Shit.” I held my hand, gripping it tightly.
“What happened?”
“Fuck.”
“What’s wrong, Nate?”
“I cut my hand.”
“Why weren’t you wearing the gloves? Here, let me see,” she said, pulling me inside of the cabin. I didn’t have time to look around; I followed her straight to the sink. She turned the water on, forced my hand under it, and left, returning a moment later with the bottle of whiskey.
My hand was gushing. I was trying to act tough, but frankly my hand was pulsing so hard that I couldn’t stop gritting my teeth.
“Gosh, you’re really bleeding,” she said. She unscrewed the whiskey, took a swig, and then held it to my mouth. Placing her other hand on the back of my neck to brace me, she tilted the bottle up so I could take a sip. Her small hands were warm and soft but strong.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She pulled my hand out of the water and dumped whiskey on it.
“What are you doing?” I yelled. She cowered immediately. “I mean, why would you do that?”
“Oh, I . . . well, it’s just that there was a wild animal in that cage. Who knows what kind of diseases it was carrying. The alcohol will sterilize it.” Her voice was small.
“I’m sorry I raised my voice at you, it’s just that, isn’t there . . . some antibacterial ointment lying around somewhere?”
At that point she was applying pressure to my hand with a paper towel. “No, I don’t have any, but Dale probably does . . . something he uses on the horses.”
My eyes shot open even wider. “No, that’s okay.”
She looked at the cut, which was still bleeding. “I can fix this.”
She held my hand but rummaged through a drawer to her left with her other hand and found a little tube.
“What is that?”
“Super glue.”
“No.” I shook my head.