My Professor's Secret

35|

thirty-five
trevor's pov

Once I've woken from the slumber that came upon me unexpectedly the night before, I notice the chair across the room is empty and any sign of Alexandrea's previous whereabouts is long gone. Alex must have snuck out sometime after noticing I'd drifted asleep. Not much after I've awoken, the nurse to treat my wounds the day prior returns to the room with a tiny plastic bag dangling in her hands. The bag contains medicinal ointment, bandages, and antibiotics. Everything is necessary to make sure the healing process progresses exactly as it should and
to keep my wounds from becoming infected.

It isn't the solution given the severity of the burn, though I'm relieved to know that had my arm been in the fire a second longer, my only option would be skin grafting. Nevertheless, she promptly recoats and redresses the burns once more while insisting I pay a visit to the hospital for further treatment. Then she directs me towards the check-out counter with the bag and its contents. There we schedule several follow-up appointments: one a week for the next couple of weeks to ensure my wounds are healing and I've taken the proper initiative.

Before ultimately freeing me to leave, she also suggests—insists that I put working at Hinkhouse on the back burner. Pun intended. From there she releases me from the confines of the Health Center and on my way.

My phone is useless as I'm reminded of its depleted battery from the night before. When  Josh gathered my things, he must've assumed the key to my car had also been on the set of my restaurant keys because he neglected to add it to my pockets after rushing me here.

The keys to Hinkhouse are all I find lodged in the pockets of my coat. It doesn't take much longer to accept the fact that my only option of getting back to Hinkhouse to retrieve my car is on foot.

Perhaps the journey wouldn't have been so unbearable if the gusting wind and falling snow had been rays of sunlight and a cool breeze. Nonetheless, I persist through the cold to the Hinkhouse parking lot with my remaining undamaged limbs intact. The keys to the building are shoved in the coat pocket on the side of my bandaged and stiff arm. It takes a quarrel to free them and unlock the door but I manage.

By now the time is six in the morning as displayed on the neon digital clock sitting on the counter in the lounge. Hinkhouse was due to open in another two hours or so, but whoever was opening today—presumably Kevin—would be in to prepare everything anytime now. Without needing to stifle through, in my cubby by their lonesome, lie the keys to my apartment and car. I don't dawdle around Hinkhouse much longer than I have to.

Once I've ultimately made it home, and plugged my phone into its charger, the shower invites me in with open arms. After I've successfully wrapped my forearm in a plastic bandage per demonstration given by the nurse, of course.

Since Emma should've been with me this morning, after I've showered, I dress in multiple layers to accommodate the freezing chill of winter to pick her up before eight o'clock arrives.

Amid my free time, I prepare an egg white spinach omelet for myself and grade two lectures worth of assignments all before the time for me to depart arrives. Courtesy of me, Emma's mother would approve considering she needed time to ready herself for a class that begins at eight-thirty.

After welcoming me in with a gentle embrace, Meghan appears slightly hysterical and pissed at me for not indulging her in anything more than a text message regarding the severity of my injuries. For the better part of my sanity, I drown her out until she's placed my daughter—who'd still been sound asleep—into my functional arm.