Читать книгу The Weight of Snow - Christian Guay-Poliquin - Страница 15

Matthias clears his throat as if he was preparing to read aloud. But he says nothing, and turns his neck right and left to get rid of the tension. Then he pulls away the quilt that covers my legs.

I look away. Maybe Matthias thinks I am looking outside, but I can see his reflection perfectly in the dark window. One by one, he unties the straps from my right side. He slips his hand under my heel and raises my leg.

My heart beats faster. The pain roars and stares me down like a powerful, graceful beast.

Patiently, Matthias unwraps my bandages. He is slow and methodical. When he reaches the last layers of gauze, I feel the cloth sticking to my skin because of the humidity and the blood, and the infection too. He cuts off the rest of the bandage with scissors and pulls it away with calculated care. I breathe in deeply and concentrate on the air that fills my rib cage. Matthias moves his head back. I picture him evaluating the redness, the swelling, the bony callus, the shape of the tibia and the knee.

Pretty soon it will be time to take out the stitches, he says, disinfecting the wound.

The burning sensation is intense. I feel like my flesh is melting off my bones.

Don’t move! Matthias thunders. Let me do my work.

I try to look away as far as possible from my legs, toward the back of the room and the two doors. The front door and the one that leads the other way. I look at the heavy, squatting woodstove, the objects on the shelves, the ceiling with its beams squared off with an axe. Two light bulbs hang there like dinosaur skeletons in a museum.

Matthias takes a tube out of the first aid kit and tries to decipher the label. With a sigh, he slips his glasses from his shirt pocket and sets them on the end of his nose.

This should do.

Before rewrapping my bandages, he applies a thick layer of ointment to my wound. It is cold, and offers some relief for a few seconds. Until he tightens the straps around the splint that keeps my leg in place and my pulse starts beating at my temples. I grab at the sheets and curse my fate. Matthias starts talking. His lips move, but I hear nothing. I think he is trying to tell me that it’s over now. After a few seconds the pain subsides a little and then, as if we were at a great distance from each other, his voice reaches me, barely audible.

Just take it, he says, take it, we have to do the other leg now.