Water and Fire - A Short Story

Part 11

After a considerable time, Aidan seemed to make a decision. “Move over,” he ordered, climbing over me onto the couch. I shifted to the edge of the seat, not sure where I was supposed to move to. Folding into the space behind me, he took a hold of the fluffy blanket around me. “Now, lean back.” I shifted back against him and he gave the rug a flick so it settled over me. He rested his arms lightly on top of the fluffy blanket.

I drowsed in the warmth from him, the rug and the fire, until his voice interrupted my drift. “You can’t sleep yet, not till you’re warm. I may be a bad doctor, but I do know what I’m doing.”

His words irritated me like the brush of a jellyfish tentacle across my skin. “You’re not a bad doctor. You’re doing fine right now,” I mumbled. “I can feel my feet already.”

I’m not sure he heard. “I should have taken you to hospital.” His words were whispered with regret.

I gave a snort and struggled to sit up. “I wouldn’t have let you. I’d have jumped into the water in the inlet first.” I closed my mouth and gritted my teeth so I didn’t say anything else I shouldn’t. I reached for my whiskey and drank some more, hoping to burn my voice past redemption. If I couldn’t speak, then I couldn’t say anything else stupid. This was precisely the sort of situation I was supposed to studiously stay away from. Oh, to be able to swim away. I stared at the fire, willing its warmth into my very bones.

“But I can’t swim,” Aidan said, sounding hurt.

Nor can I, right now. My frustration broke some barrier inside me and I fell back against him, helpless with hilarity. “You can’t deal with a simple case of hypothermia because you can’t swim?”

The man behind me went rigid and his hands formed into fists. “No, I’m not a good doctor because when I’m under pressure, I just freeze up and can’t think. So I let someone else help my patient, because I’m terrified of stuffing up and making them worse.”

I lifted my arm from beneath the blanket and laid it across his arm, from his elbow to his wrist. I dug my fingers between his and forced his fist open. My hand was now warmer than his. “Today, you took care of a patient with no help from anyone else. You know what to do. Maybe all you need is the confidence to take charge.”

I threw the blanket off and surged to my feet. The whiskey swirled in my head, but I maintained my balance. I headed for the kitchen and a large glass of water without whiskey.

I downed the glass of water and chased it with another. Holding tightly to the bench with one hand to keep it from moving, I turned to face Aidan across the dining table. “I’m hungry,” I announced, “and I don’t think I can drive anywhere safely. What do you suggest?”