Not in Pain

[Warning: this story contains description of physical injuries that might lead to upsetting image]

“Ah!” A short grunt came out of Amy when she foolishly cut herself with scissors. A tiny arrow-shaped wound appeared on the inner side of her left ring finger. She calmly put the scissors and the yarn she was cutting down on the table. It was Saturday morning, the day when Amy and her mom spent doing their common hobby. Amy was cutting yarns for her macrame in her study, while her mom was combining two threads on her spinning wheel just a few feet from Amy’s study. Amy would leave the study room door open so she could chat with her mom while both were doing their own things.

“What happened?” Her mom’s voice was heard across the hallway.  

“I cut myself. What an idiot...”  

She pressed her ring finger to see if the wound bled, and it did. She grabbed a tissue and covered the wound. It bled quite a lot. Curious about the wound, Amy removed the tissue to examine how deep the cut was. Her skin was chipped and formed an unfinished triangle. “Well, this is gonna grow into a keloid, for sure.” Amy thought to herself as she pressed the tissue against it once again to absorb more blood that was coming out. 

“Is it bad? What should we do? Oh, no. We just ran out of ointment.” Amy’s mom came into her study to check if her daughter was okay. 

“It’s fine. Though, my skin’s a bit chipped.” Amy lifted her left hand to show her mom where she was hurt. 

Her mom made an inverse hissing sound – the sound you would produce by clenching your teeth and sucking air from your mouth – as she heard the details of Amy’s wound. She frowned and went quiet. Amy saw the deep concern in her mom’s expression and let out a light laughter, because she knew what was on her mom’s mind: Does Amy have to be rushed into the emergency room to get some stitches? 

“Relax, mom. You look more in pain than I do. It’s just a tiny cut, no need for hospitals. I’m not Maggie. She’s the weak one..”  

Saying her sister’s name made Amy recall funny stories her mom shared with her about Maggie’s dramatic whine every time their mom had to put ointment on Maggie’s wounds when she was younger. With flashing imaginations about her sister’s Oscar-worthy reactions, Amy smiled and rolled her eyes.  

“Yeah, your sister got that trait from my side of the family. We’re bad at handling pain and blood. Did I ever tell you the story about your aunt fainting after popping a pimple?”  

Whenever Amy’s got a minor cut, her mom would always retell her family’s reactions when they experience minor pain or encounter blood, including Maggie’s. Each story had never failed to make Amy laugh. She found all the stories extremely entertaining because her aunts’ reactions were over the top. But that particular story was the best of all. Amy had heard her eldest aunt’s pimple-popping incident many times, yet she still managed to laugh for a whole minute after her mom mentioned it again. Her right hand wiped the tears that started to come out of her eyes, while her left hand was pressing against her stomach as a genuine reaction of laughing too hard. 

 “God... How... How is that even possible? Did she pop it and faint right away?”  

“She popped it and then lost her balance. You know, because she was shocked by the pain. It was a big pimple.” 

“Well, what about when you or Aunt Bertha were in labor? You guys didn’t faint, did you?” 

“No, of course we didn’t. That was different. During labor, we saw the contractions coming. The shock I was referring to is more like a...  sudden sting. Like, an accidental cut. You’re out and about doing what you think is a harmless thing, your body’s not ready to receive any pain, and then suddenly, *bzzztt* a stinging pain hit you. I think it’s more of the shock that makes us limp and fragile to the following pain, which sometimes leads to fainting. Maggie has had that trait since she was a kid. Your sister is thirty-three and she still refuses to go to the dentist just because of what happened twenty-some years ago. She immediately feels pain after she heard the word ‘dentist’. You, on the other hand, were more resilient. Even though you get cut and scratches way more often than Maggie, I think the last time I helped you put ointment on your wounds was when you were five. After that, you just put the ointment yourself with no fuss and go back outside to continue playing.”  

“Yeah, I was a strong kid.” 

“More like, stubborn.” 

“Same thing.” 

Amy’s ring finger wound had stopped bleeding. That’s why she didn’t bother to find any ointment in the house or buy a new one. Like her mom said, Amy got scratches so often that she got used to the process of wound healing and had begun to think that ointment was unnecessary. Without any more delay, she picked up her uneven yarn and began to even it like she had intended to do before the minor accident. 

“How is your sister, by the way... Is she working today? Should we call her?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on her part-time work schedule. It changes all the time.” 

After thinking for a while, Amy’s mom decided to drop the idea of calling her eldest daughter. Being slightly worried was not a healthy reason to interrupt your daughter’s day. She also knew that she had to concentrate fully on her spinning wheel, otherwise she would end up struggling to untangle the threads at the end of the day. Both her feet were pedaling to keep the wheel spinning. After a few weeks of practicing, she finally got the hang of the traditional device and could maintain a steady rhythm in her pedaling. She looked at her two feet on the pedaling board and saw the stitch mark that went from her right calf to her ankle.

“Why did I break my leg...” 

Amy froze.   

“Thank God you were there when it happened, but it must have been so scary. It was my first time experiencing an accident like that. But so were you. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone and see what you saw. You didn’t shed a single tear, up until I was out of surgery.” 

“It was the adrenaline, I think.” 

“You were being brave.” 

“I finished a whole book while you were in surgery. You were in there for three or four hours, I think.” 

“Four.” 

“Mm..” 

“After I fell, how could you tell that my leg was broken?” 

“Nope, not gonna tell you. You remember what you were doing prior to the accident, we have discussed what happened in the accident that caused your leg to be broken, but that... you don’t need to know that. Best to leave that picture with me, and only me.”  

It was never a good idea to paint what she had witnessed on the night of her mom’s accident. The horrifying clue to a broken leg. When you were describing something, your brain would automatically and uncontrollably replay the very same picture you were describing. Hence, Amy would have to relive the nightmare. 

“Good thing Maggie wasn’t there to see it. I would’ve had my hands full taking care of two people, if she was. One immobile, one unconscious.” 

Hearing her daughter’s attempt to humorously comment on the matter, Amy’s mom stopped pedaling and went inside Amy’s study. She affectionately patted her daughter on the back. After letting out a short and deep sigh, Amy’s mom left the study. 

Amy continued to busy herself with her yarn. However, tears involuntarily came out of her eyes. She wiped them in a single motion and took a steady deep breath to prevent herself from sobbing.  

“There goes my sleep tonight.”