The Debt & the Doormat(61)

‘Oh thanks,’ I say rolling my eyes.

‘Just shut up and let me come with you, OK.’

I stare at him for a moment, trying to work out his hidden agenda, but the truth is that I could really do with someone being there while I wee my pants.

‘OK,’ I say reluctantly, feeling like a pathetic baby. If my brothers could only see me now, they’d laugh their arses off.

* * *





‘So...once I get them taken out I can just act like normal again?’ I ask the extremely hairy male doctor.

‘Yes, although do still try and take it easy. The last thing you want is for the skin to come apart again,’ he says, smiling warmly.

How can I trust this man? I mean, first of all he looks like a werewolf, with the most body hair I’ve ever seen on anyone. His thick black hair is escaping from the sleeves of his shirt, running down to his fingernails which are too long. Plus he’s got a worryingly thick gold chain round his neck with a gold hoop earring in one ear. I mean, are you allowed to be a doctor and have an earring? Isn’t it one of those unspoken rules? And which ear is it that tells people you’re gay?

‘Oh, OK,’ I say as I begin to feel myself tremble. Don't panic Pops. This is going to be over so quickly. It's not going to hurt at all.

‘Right, let’s get on with it then,’ he says, taking my face with his weird werewolf fingers.

I try not to show how visibly repulsed I am. He picks up some weird looking scissors and starts coming towards me with them.

‘And, will I have to put any special cream on?’ I ask, pulling myself away from him.

‘No, back to normal,’ he says, with a flash of irritation. He leans in again.

‘And! How long have you been a doctor?’ I ask, my voice a squeak.

I mean, maybe he’s just a crazy person that's broken in off the streets and put on a doctors jacket. Yes! That's it, that's why he’s got an earring. He’s not a doctor at all, he’s a con artist. A gay con artist!

He looks back up rubbing his face wearily and sighs.

‘Pops, maybe you should just let him get it over and done with, hmm?’ Ryan says, taking hold of my hand, his warm touch making me quiver. ‘I’m sure it's pain free...right doctor?’

‘Oh yes. You’ll barely feel a thing.’

‘Barely? So I will feel something?’

Oh my God. It's going to kill. What if I pass out from the pain?

‘Barely anything at all,’ he reassures.

Ryan looks at me, raising his eyebrows as if to communicate that I’m being ridiculous. I cannot be ridiculous. I’m fabulous Poppy now. Fabulous Poppy is brave like Tarzan. She rips the stitches out with her teeth! But obviously I wouldn’t do that. Oh God, I shudder just from the image.

‘OK,’ I say reluctantly as my breathing grows erratic. ‘OK, you can do it.’

‘Maybe don't look at it while I’m doing it,’ Doctor Werewolf says, as he takes my head again and I begin to hyperventilate.

I stare at him, feeling completely overwhelmed. At least when I had the stitches I was a bit pissed. This is full on sober and the thought of what's about to happen is making my skin crawl. The urge to just run straight out of this office and never come back is overwhelming. But then what would that achieve? I can't have these stitches in my face forever. Can I?

I just hope he isn’t pissed. You hear about drunk doctors all the time. And I mean, what if he takes them out wrong and my face is scarred horrifically forever? I’ll be in one of those weekly magazines with a headline like ‘Doctor butchered my face, now I can't find anyone to love me’. God I can see it. I’ll be surrounded by all of the cats I’ve had to buy. And they’ll be weird looking cats, with one eye, and three legs and hacked off tails, because I’ll have related to their odd looks. I’ll have understood what they were going through.

‘Just look at me Pops,’ Ryan says, swivelling my head to face him.

I look up at his big brown eyes and feel myself calm as I look into the deepness of them. I’ve never realised before, but up close the colour around his pupil is lighter, almost a whisky colour. They’re so beautiful, especially surrounded by his long eyelashes and bushy eyebrows. I try to concentrate on just this while I feel some pulling on my face. Just imagine it's an eyebrow wax. Don't think about it. Don't think about the gay werewolf doctor pulling stitches out of your face.

‘There we go; good as new,’ Doctor Werewolf says, breaking me from Ryan’s stare.

‘What?’ I say feeling my face. ‘It's done?’

I thought it would take at least half an hour.

‘Yes, as easy as that,’ Doctor Werewolf smiles.

‘Well thank God that's over,’ Ryan says, sighing with relief. ‘I thought it was going to be awful.’

‘What? You weren’t saying that a minute ago!’

‘Well, obviously. Would you have gone through with it otherwise?’

‘Well...I suppose not.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I just don't like being lied to, that's all,’ I say defensively, crossing my arms across my chest.

‘Oh really? It's a good thing I’m not so sensitive isn’t it?’

The doctor stares at us both confused.

‘You can go now Poppy. Just make sure to keep it clean and come back if you get any severe itchiness or swelling.’

‘OK thanks,’ I say as we get up to leave.

The minute we’re out of the door I turn to Ryan again, still confused by what he said.

‘What did you mean? When have I lied to you?’

He’s got a cheek. The way he’s been confusing me lately.

‘Oh please! Let’s make a list shall we? You lied about being Jazz’s cousin from Spain, then about Jazz coming with you this morning. It begs the question what else you’ve lied about?’

‘Well...’

‘Exactly!’ he says, muffling a snicker.

‘I thought I was a good actress,’ I say, a little laugh escaping.

‘I may be pretty, but I’m not dumb,’ he says, cocking his eyebrows at me.

‘I wouldn’t even say pretty,’ I say before he digs me playfully in the ribs.

‘So, are you going back to work?’ he asks.

‘Yep. Victor won't be able to drink coffee without me. It's a very important role I have you know.’

‘I can see that,’ he says, playing along. ‘I could always...’

‘What? You could always what?’ I ask, a little too desperately.

‘Well, it's a nice day. I could always walk you to work. Your office is only a few tube stops from mine.’

He wants to spend time with me?!

‘Yeah OK,’ I say as casually as I can, but in my panic to try and act like a normal human being, I end up dropping my handbag, all of the contents spilling out onto the pavement.

‘Shit.’ I crouch down to pick them up.

He crouches down too and starts picking things up for me. God I’ve got a lot of crap in this bag, I really must clear it out when I get home. Oh my God. I notice my thrush cream on the floor next to him. Ok, don't panic. Just quickly lean forward and pick it up and he won't even notice.

I take a quick deep breath and reach my hand out to the cream. I’m nearly there and he hasn’t even noticed yet. Thank God, this is going to be fine. He’s still picking up random bits of eye make-up.

‘Oh, let me get that,’ he says, reaching for the cream.

Oh my God. If he picks it up, if he even removes my hand from above it, he’ll see the words. He’ll think I’ve got thrush. And he’s a man – he probably doesn’t even really know what thrush is – he’ll just assume that it's a terrible sexually transmitted disease. He’ll just assume that I’m a horrible nasty slut and if there was ever the smallest possibility of him fancying me, it will be ruined forever. Forever when he thinks of me images of a spotty vagina will flash into his mind and he’ll vomit.

‘Noooooooo!’ I shout, leaping for it.

I dive for it, but in my panic fall and manage to take him down with me. I look up to see that I’m basically straddling him on the pavement. Oh God, people are starring and he’s looking at me like I’m insane. But the main thing is that I have the thrush cream. It's in my hand.

‘Whoops,’ I grimace.

‘Poppy, what the hell?’ He pushes me back.

‘Sorry. I....I lost my balance.’

‘Really?’ he asks raising his eyebrow. ‘Why did you shout “no” then?’

‘Um...just because...I knew I was falling.’

I crawl away from him pushing the rest of my things into my handbag, not feeling brave enough to look at him yet.

‘O...kay.’ He looks completely unconvinced as he begins to pick up my loose change.

‘No, leave the penny,’ I say taking the rest of the change from him.

‘Huh?’ he asks looking at me as if I’ve finally lost the plot.

‘You should leave it there.’ I stand up and try to get over the feelings of embarrassment.

‘What for?’ he asks studying me with curious eyes.

‘You know...so someone else can find it and have good luck.’

He stares at me for a moment.

‘Are you for real?’ he asks, a smile breaking out on his face.

‘Yes. Wouldn’t you want someone to see it and pick it up, feeling that they’re going to have good luck?’