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Chapter 13: Counting

Failing to find what he was looking for, he released a soft sigh and stepped back. "Why don't you take a seat, Sang, and let me play doctor for a while."

He guided me to Kota, who had moved the armless office chair to the center of the room, offering it to me. Taking a seat, I looked up at Dr. Sean, but he was busy exchanging looks with Kota. From the changing expressions on their faces, it seemed like Kota was fluent in that type of silent communication.

After a moment of silence, Dr. Sean turned around to retrieve his bag. Kota moved around the chair and kneeled in front of me, looking up. He held a notepad and a pen in his hand.

"I thought you might like to use these," he said softly, and placed the items in my lap. My hand immediately covered them, grateful at his suggestion. Writing my responses down would be a lot easier than stumbling through the ASL alphabet.

Realizing that I'd be able to communicate with the guys, my nerves settled a bit. Immediately, I felt less of a spectator and more of a participant. I began writing without delay and showed the page to Kota.

"Thank you, Kota. This is a lot easier."

"You're welcome, Sang," he replied with a smile, looking just as relieved that we could have a two-sided conversation now. "Sean will go over your wounds and treat them, but I would also like him to document them, if that's okay with you?"

Document them? Was he going to create a medical file for me? Perhaps he had to, because he was a doctor. Maybe he needed to know how much the medicine or bandages would cost... but I didn't have any money. Would he need to send it to my parents? Would they see the records?

My breathing sped up, my blurry mind racing to think of the consequences. The room started spinning, the walls were getting darker. I had to put my feet farther apart to keep me steady on the chair. I breathed in deeply and shook my head, to clear it, but it wasn't working. There was a hum in my ears.

Two hands engulfed my cheeks, forest green eyes filled my vision and a sound pierced through the hum. "-ng! Sang! Breathe, Sang. Listen to me. Can you hear me?"

I think I nodded.

"You're fine, Sang. Keep your focus on me. We're going to count to ten, okay? Count with me."

Spices, the kind that woke you up and made you relax at the same time. I was surrounded by the scent of spices.

"One."

One.

Autumn in the middle of summer.

"Two."

Two.

A smooth voice. It reminded me of the round, glossy rocks in the stream behind my house in Illinois.

"Three."

Three.

His hands were warm. They held me in place with a gentle strength that spoke of reassurance.

"Four."

Four.

He was short. Who was he? Kota. That wasn't right. Kota wasn't short. Kota was tall. Why was he short?

"Five."

Five.

He was on his knees, that's why. I didn't like sitting on my knees. Why was he sitting on his knees? I hoped it wasn't hurting him.

"Six."

Six.

Kota was sitting on his knees in front of me, cradling my face, looking into my eyes, counting. Six. Next was seven.