Free A Note in the Margin by Isabelle Rowan

grip, letting John take the pad and place it on the table. John carefully pulled the jacket off David’s shoulder and down his arm and then repeated the process on the other side. There was no sign of blood on the torn flannel shirt.

    David flinched and glanced up when Marian walked over and said with some impatience, “Look, John, I don’t know why he came here, but you don’t need to be doing this. Stick him in a cab to the hospital. Let them deal with him.”

    John turned his head and glared at Marian. His teeth ached from the tight grind of his clenched jaw. How could she simply dismiss him like that? He turned his attention back to David, but said to her in a deceptively calm voice, “Go home, Marian. This has nothing to do with you.”

    She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to reply, but quickly closed it again. With as much dignity as she could muster, Marian located her handbag and coat and walked out of the apartment. John listened to her leave, knowing he would have to apologize later, but right now David needed him. Marian didn’t.

    He sighed and focused his attention on David’s shirt. Several of the buttons had been torn off, leaving only a couple for John to undo, exposing the remnants of a threadbare T-shirt. He glanced up at David’s face to gauge whether or not to continue; his expression was difficult to read, but the desperate fear had left his eyes. John lifted the hem of the T-shirt and swore at the mass of red and purple bruises covering David’s midriff. “Shit, David. I’m phoning a doctor. This needs to be looked at.”

    David lifted his hand and put it on John’s, determined to push the worn fabric back down. “I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Just need… need to clean up… please.”

    John looked at David’s hand covering his. “You really need a doctor, David.”

    “Please, John,” David whispered, tightening his grip.

    Although unconvinced, John nodded and David quickly withdrew his hand as if embarrassed by the contact. John rose silently and walked into the bathroom. He turned the taps on full and watched the steady rush of water as it began to cover the bottom of the bath. The room was already filling up with steam when John returned to crouch by David’s side. “The bath is running if you want to go through.”

    David nodded and took a pained breath before standing. He gripped the back of the chair and closed his eyes. John slowly stood and placed a gentle palm on David’s back. “It’s okay. I’ll give you a hand.”

    It surprised John when David gave another small nod, opened his eyes and began to walk to the bathroom.
     
    The bathroom had nearly filled with steam, diffusing the harsh light above the mirror as John leaned over to check the temperature of the water. It was nearly ready. David began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt cuffs, but the constant tremor of his hand made the small black button slip out of his grasp. The more he tried the more distressed he became until John’s fingers closed softly over his hand. John didn’t say anything as he gently moved David’s hand away and slipped the button through the hole. He paused briefly at the tiny red heart tattooed in the creases of David’s wrist, wanting to ask about it, but knowing this was not the time or place. He undid the other cuff and slid the shirt off, laying it on a little wooden chair.

    David let John remove his T-shirt, but dropped his head as the hot flush of shame crept over his face. He didn’t want John to see him like that; too thin, dirty, and blemished with bruises old and new. David swallowed repeatedly when John knelt on the floor and carefully removed first one boot and then the other. Although he was forced to grip John’s shoulder to keep his balance, David quickly let go as soon as the task was completed. It was one thing for John to touch him….

    “Um, you need to take off your trousers,” John said quietly before he straightened and turned to shut off