Ah, I forgot how much fun it was to write one-shots. No pressure, and this time I actually got to be a little bit silly.
I decided to have a little bit of fun and write something that wasn't deathly serious, so this came out. Actually, I came up with the idea at my sister's expense (sorry sis!) after she'd gotten bloodwork. Ick.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy, this is slighty OOC, but not really badly (I hope!).
Oh, and if you're reading this, please please please go vote on my poll! I'm trying to get a good opinion on it before I continue writing anything else.
Oh, and yes, I wrote this at four o' clock in the morning, so any typos-my fault.
Charlie's voice registered in my ears, barely, his voice strong and clear, as I walked into the kitchen.
My voice, in comparison, was clogged and choked. It was seven o' clock and I hadn't gotten to sleep until four in the morning. Edward's fault. Not that I was complaining. Lying awake, listening to him hum in my ear was much more pleasant than sleeping would ever be.
It was Saturday, cloudy and rainy, as would be expected. It had been sprinkling since I woke up five minutes ago and didn't appear as if it would let up anytime soon.
"Meeting Edward?" Charlie asked, his face downward into the morning paper, the corners of his mouth turning down at his question and the likely response.
"Not today." His eyebrows raised an inch. "I have a doctor's appointment."
"Did you hurt yourself?" Charlie's question was murmured, again, into the paper, the thought not alarming him as much as it would a normal dad. I hurt myself quite often.
"Not this time." I chuckled slightly. "Just a checkup."
"Oh." Charlie folded the paper, backwards, so it fell back open when he lay it down on the table, strode out of the kitchen, and picked up his gun belt off of the hook on the wall before continuing. "Well, have fun, then." He said, opening the door and exiting, with a smile in my general direction.
A few moments later, I heard his car's motor start, then waited until it faded into the distance.
Today's appointment ensured only one thing:
I went upstairs and got dressed, putting on the most modest outfit I could find; a dark purple sweater and a pair of dark-wash jeans. After jamming my feet into my favorite brown loafers-they were growing too small, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them-I went outside, remembering to grab my windbreaker on the way out.
It was still drizzling, very slowly, so the water droplets seemed to hang in the air around you, a sort of record-high humidity. Once happily in the warmth of my truck, I pulled out of the driveway, trying my best to ignore the fact that the engine was spluttering more than normal.
Spluttering engine aside, I managed to make it to the doctor's safely, and without attracting too much attention to myself. I walked into the building, looking straight ahead as I stabbed the button for the elevator. I tapped my toe impatiently as I waited. When the doors finally opened, a woman with a young, screaming boy walked out, leaving a couple inside, a young-ish man and, presumably, his wife, who was apparently in late pregnancy. I walked in, smiling vaguely at my elevator-companions, then pressed the button labeled "3".
"And what's your name, sweetie?"
The middle-aged receptionist looked up at me through her broad-rimmed eyeglasses with kind eyes. Her hair was a flamey-red, swept up on the top of her head in a neat bun.
"Isabella Swan," I said, hating using my full name. I'm here for my yearly checkup."
She paused, scrolling down a list of names on her computer, then scribbled something on a piece of paper.
"Just have a seat, sweetie, someone will call you in."
I turned away, taking in the room before selecting a seat next to a leather chair in a corner. There was an elderly man three seats to my left and a young woman, evidently the same one in the elevator with me, two to my right. Her escort had disappeared.
I settled back into the chair, the dark leather straining against my attempt at relaxation. Giving up, I leaned forward, then to the right, grabbing a magazine that was sitting on a small table.
Find that summer love, The title screamed, the words covering eighty percent of the cover. Tips to reel in your dream man. I let out a small smile.
A nurse was standing in front of an open door directly across the room, her eyes bored, as if she was so sick of standing there, calling out people's names all day. Blame, though, I could hardly place on her for that.
I stood, the smile on my face disappearing, then walked toward the door.
"Go down the hallway, to the right, then take an immediate left, then it's the third door on the right side."
And she disappeared. She had spoken quickly, so quickly that the only words I had been able to pick out were the lefts and rights. I glanced back to where she had been standing, then shrugged, walking forward.
" Right, left, three, right." I murmured to myself as I walked.
"Right." I turned onto a differently colored hallway.
"Right, left, three, right."
This would be so much easier if they would just put a sign on each door with the patients' name. Then we could all wander around until we found our designated rooms and be happy.
I walked sideways, facing the right wall, then counted down three doors.
"One, two, three."
My room was painted a cheery yellow, the typical paper-sheet covered bed touching two corners of the room, a small metallic sink dominating the third corner. A little red chair was in the fourth.
Sighing, I settled down onto the paper, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy examination table.
After I sat there for what felt like a half hour, a nurse came into the room, took my temperature, asked me the typical pre-examination questions (Are you allergic to any medications? What medications are you currently taking on a regular basis?), then abruptly left with no other words. She ducked her head back in the door, telling me to put on one of the paper gowns that were in a storage compartment on the side of the table, then closed the door behind her.
Seconds later, she returned, picking up the clipboard she had left behind, smiling sheepishly, and telling me the doctor would be with me soon.
Taken slightly aback by the flustered nurse, it took me a few moments to do as she asked. Once collected, I took off my sweater and jeans and donned the paper dress, tying it as tight as I could in the back without ripping it. It rustled and itched terribly as I sat back down, and I tried as best I could to position myself so I didn't look as stupid as I felt.
There was a brisk knock on the door, then it opened.
Funny how they knock to make sure you're ready, then don't even bother to ask.
"Hello, Isabella, I'm Doctor Grayson…" The last of his sentence trailed off as he looked at the chart he brought with him. He murmured to himself, relaying some of the details I had given to the nurse earlier.
"Bella." I corrected him gently. If I was going to be hearing him say my name for the next hour or so, I didn't want it to be my full name.
"Okay, Bella," he said, scribbling on the piece of paper on his clipboard. "How've you been lately?"
And so the examination began. I, bored half to death, explained all about my numerous falls, trips to the ER, ("So you know Doctor Cullen?", he'd asked), and lack of real illnesses in the past. I end up mostly with physical injuries.
"Okay, Bella, we'll get a blood sample and then we're done here."
He walked out of the room, completely oblivious as to how his twelve words had caused me to break out into a cold sweat.
I felt sick. My stomach was heaving, churning in big circles as I contemplated the misery about to come my way. A bead of sweat ran down my face, and with it came the unignorable feeling that is associated with the stomach flu. Except I wasn't sick, not in the literal sense.
The nurse came in the room, keeping her back to me as she ripped the package that held the deadly needle open.
She turned around, her face down, holding the barb that made me nearly vomit, right then and there. She looked up at my face, and her features instantly changed to show that she was concerned.
"Are you all right, honey? You don't look well."
I drew in a deep, shuddering breath, just enough to utter one word.
The nurse nodded, understanding.
"Just close your eyes, honey, it'll be over-with before you know it."
I turned away and rested the side of my face against the yellow wall, closed my eyes and stuck out my hand.
"That's the spirit. Okay, this'll just be a little pinch."
I clenched my jaw as tight as I could, squeezed my eyes shut to the point that it hurt and waited.
There was a sharp pain in my index finger, a sickening moment where I thought I was going to pass out from the rusty smell of my own blood, then nothing.
"There you go, it's all done."
I cautiously removed my face from the wall and looked at my finger, hesitantly.
It was wrapped in a bright yellow band-aid, the same color as the walls, a small brown stain already leaking through.
I tried to hide my gagging.
"Okay, honey, you get dressed and wait here. We'll be right back with the results of this test."
I nodded, tightly. When she left, I leaned back against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
It's okay, Bella. The worst of it's over.
I calmed myself before dressing again, the paper gown tossed away, damp from my sweat, and settled back down on the table to steady my heartbeat.
The doctor walked back in, flippantly, without knocking this time.
"Well, Bella, it looks like you'll have to be here just a bit longer."
"Unfortunately, your hemoglobin levels were a little low, so we're going to send you down to the lab to get some more blood drawn. Just so we can avoid any serious problems."
God forbid I should ever be right.
He didn't bother to answer me.
"Wait," I said as he started to walk from the room.
"Can't we do something else? Anything else? I'm really not good with needles, I really hate them, actually, can't you just do another little finger stick?"
He raised one of his eyebrows.
"Unfortunately, Miss Swan, we can't get enough blood from a "finger stick" to get any really conclusive evidence, so we'll have to get more."
He walked from the room.
"Aw, come on." I whined quietly, sinking from the table into the floor.
On the way down to the bottom floor, Edward called.
I was shocked to hear a cell-phone ringing, there was no one else in the elevator and it certainly couldn't be mine, I didn't have a cell-phone.
I reached into my pocket and found, much to my surprise, Alice's phone. Edward's number flashed on the small screen on the front, so I opened it. She must have placed it in the pocket of the pair of jeans she knew I would wear the next day. Sneaky little pixie.
"Bella! It's good to hear your voice. It's been too long since I've heard your voice."
Edward was clearly excited about something. He was out hunting with his father and brothers, it wasn't too surprising that he would be excited.
"Yes, Edward, I'm shocked you can stand to wait for five hours to hear from me." I teased, recalling how he had managed to keep me awake nearly all night.
"How's the doctor's?" he asked, matching my teasing tone.
I winced. "Bloodwork." I said, walking out of the elevator, turning down a shady hallway which led to the "vampire lab", as I had decided to call it.
"Oh, Bella. Do you want me to come down there?"
If I would have said yes, he would have appeared right beside me in a matter of seconds. But I couldn't.
" No, Edward, I'll be okay. Eventually."
He caught my hesitant tone and paused, but eventually relented.
"All right, Bella. Call me when you're done, I'll take you out for lunch."
"Thanks, Edward." I whispered, ending the call and turning off the phone.
I would like Edward to be there, as it would be hard to concentrate on a needle while staring in his eyes, but it was…painful letting him see me so pathetically vulnerable.
A few minutes later, I settled into a leather chair similar to the one I had been in almost an hour ago. This one was much more forgiving, though, and actually let me relax into it without pushing into my back.
"Bella? We're ready for you back here."
I tried to slow my racing heartbeat as I sat down in the small, hard chair. A rubber tourniquet was tied around my arm while I concentrated on not passing out.
"You ready?" A nurse was snapping on white rubber gloves and preparing a needle.
I swallowed, then nodded weakly.
I turned my face away.
Bella, just try to breathe and you'll be okay.
A sharp pinch in my arm.
The sickening smell of salt and rust filled the room.
I tried to concentrate on something other than what was happening.
Bella, why aren't you breathing?
Suddenly, everything became blurry.
Breathing would be good right now.
Black ate at the edges of my vision.
Actually, passing out might not be so bad. I won't remember the rest of this.
I didn't feel it when my head hit the table.
I woke up to an excessively bright light, straight above my head. I raised my arm to shield my eyes, noticing, vaguely, the cotton pad taped to the crease.
Edward's face blocked out the light that seemed to be as bright as the sun. He was smiling. The light fanned out from the sides of his head, glorifying him like the god he is.
"Are you okay?"
I moaned something, something that I hoped sounded like an assent.
"Silly Bella," he said as he lowered his lips to my forehead.
(sighs) I love Edward. Yes oh yes I do.