2007-11-25 - 3:36 p.m.
The Day I Pierced My Sweetheart's Eardrum: A Regrettable and True Story by ELOFTING@HOTMAIL.COM
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I was mentally giving myself a pat on the back when it happened. The hair-cut I was giving Shuhei was turning out really, really well. I wasn't being careful enough when I picked up the comb (the one with the pointy end that would be good for making parts with, that is, if either of us had hairstyles that involved parting) from the edge of the bathroom sink and accidently poked him in the ear with it.
Shuhei's head jerked away and he held his hand up to his ear saying itai, itai, itai (which isn't good).
I'm impressed that he isn't swearing, which is what I would be doing if someone had stabbed me in the ear with a comb. I'm impressed, and also terrified. That comb went into his ear a pretty long way, and I immediately knew that I'd done a terrible, terrible thing.
Tennile Litzenburger suddenly came to mind. Tennile Litzenburger, for those of you not already familiar with this name, had a locker next to mine throughout most of high school. Tennile was huge and, during the later high school years, was friends with two particularly angry boys who didn't like me at all. In short, Tennile scared me. Where all this becomes relevant is where Tennile's sister had a glass eye because Tennile had stabbed her's with a fork when they were both little.
And I'm not at all happy with the prospect of having something like this in common with someone like Tennile.
After a couple of minutes Shuhei pulled himself together. He didn't seem to be angry with me, but haircutting time was definitely over.
A couple of hours later Shuhei's ear started to bleed. Not a lot, just a couple of drops, but that's not the point. Frankly, any amount of blood is too much when it's coming out from your sweetheart's ear, and especially when you were the cause of it. I also find the time lapse between the stabbing and the appearance of blood to be extremely disconcerting.
I want to take him to the hospital. But, by now, it's one o'clock in the morning, and Shuhei doesn't want to go, pointing out that the wait to see a doctor at this hour would probably be at least a couple of hours. He has a point. Some things are much better here than in Canada, convenience stores and the postal service are examples, but other things, like hospital visits, are just as crummy. I make Shuhei promise to see a doctor the next day and we go to sleep.
That night I had a series of dreams all linked together by an underlying message that I am a terrible person. In one, I'd secretly purchased an enormous box of fruit leathers and was utterly determined to not have to share a single one. I spent most of that dream carrying my gigantic box of fruit leathers around in a train station trying to find a rental locker to stash them in. Here, I should probably point out that there are few foods that Shuhei will not eat, all manner of dried fruits being one of them.
The next day a doctor said that there was a tiny hole in Shuhei's eardrum. I was half-expecting to be taken away for a lecture about spousal abuse from the police but, happily, that never came about. The doctor seemed optimistic that the hole would be able to heal itself, but I can't help but be skeptical. I mean, I hope that the doctor is right. Shuhei can, at present, still hear from the ear that I stabbed but, unsurprisingly, not as well as he could hear before, and I would like it to be clear that I'm rooting for a full recovery. But, an eardrum is just like a tiny hymen, right? I mean, you get one, and after you wreck it, it's over. Right?
No, wait, don't agree with me. Agree with Shuhei's doctor.
Anyways, the doctor gave Shuhei some infection-preventing antibiotics and told him to come back after four or five days to check on how things were going.
The next day Shuhei's mom came to town. Shuhei's mom lives in Fujieda (near Mt. Fuji) and comes back to visit in Hachinohe once a year, or as weddings and funerals demand. She's brought a present for me, a blue cashmere scarf. I love it. It's soft and pretty and goes with the delightfully idiotic purse I recently bought for two dollars (aptly described by a third-party as "very Ab Fab") very nicely indeed. Also, it's cashmere, and therefore fancy. I'm touched, not only by the gift, but also by the fact that Shuhei's mom, who I've only met three times, could give me a clothing article that suits my tastes so perfectly (something my own mother still can't and probably never will be able to do).
I don't even deserve this, I said. I stabbed your son in the ear with a comb.
Shuhei's mom laughed and said that he probably deserved it.
Shuhei said that it didn't matter because he has two ears and because I didn't do it intentionally.
And that, friends, is the story of stabbing my sweetheart in the ear with a comb and somehow getting away with it without a lasting grudge against myself.
