An exhausted and tired Edith added to the pile of paper and other junk on her desk as she threw the file of paperwork on top of it. Rubbing her eyes, she hoped to rid them of the sleep that had been plaguing her since she rolled out of bed this morning.
With a groan, Edith bent down to retrieve her purple coach bag that she placed under her desk. Sitting it down on top of the loose folders and papers on her desk, she gently moved the contents of the bag to the side as her slender well-manicured fingers searched for the little orange bottle filled with small pills that would slowly make her day a brighter one.
The muscles in her body relaxed as her fingers wrapped around the small bottle. Pulling it out, the corners of her mouth curled into a frown as she eyed the three pills left over. She hadn't realized she had been taking so many of them but made a mental note to pick up some more sometime that week as she lazily plopped in to the leather chair.
Edith popped the lid to the bottle and stared greedily at the pills as she poured them into the palm of her cupped hand. Keeping a tight grip on the pills, she quickly placed the cover back on the bottle before tossing it back in her bag. Opening her lips, Edith tossed the pills inside and grabbed the water bottle that sat next to the framed picture of her and Pete.
Edith felt her heart twinge with guilt as her eyes glued to the ones in the picture staring back at hers. His concern traveled everywhere she went, acting as a conscience for all her wrong doings. She was beginning to feel suffocated by the protective leash he provided for her.
Sitting forward, Edith grabbed the frame and turned it around so her nerves would be at ease. Opening the water, she brought it to her lips. She allowed the cool water to fill her mouth before allowing the clear liquid to wash away her medicated solutions down her throat. Twisting the cap back on the bottle, she placed it back on her desk before leaning back into the chair. Permitting leisure to take control, elbows resting on the arms of the chair and tan legs stretched out in front of her body, Edith closed her eyes. Her mind became vacant as reality left her for a moment of temporary tranquility.
Knowing that this would be the only time of peace she would experience for the rest of the day, Edith appreciated every second of it. Her next patient, a Mrs. Vinyard, wasn't due for another few minutes.
Edith's peace was short lived as an upbeat jingle brought her to attention. Glancing down at the diamond incrusted watch, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as it dawned on her that she had not mistaken the time of her next appointment. Sitting up, Edith tried to locate the hidden phone. Grabbing her bag, she placed it on her lap as she searched frantically for it. When it was not found, she placed her bag back on the floor and began to dig around the mess of papers on her desk. Her fingers frantically moved around the desk, lifting piles of papers until she spotted the small silver cellular.
Picking it up, she flipped open the phone before examining the screen. Her eyebrows raised and her bottom lip was immediately sucked between her teeth as she gnawed on the sensitive flesh, debating on whether to make her day even more stressful by hitting talk. Deciding that the electronic device would get no rest, she went against her instincts and accepted the call. "Hello," she answered her voice restless and irritated as she pressed the phone to her right ear.
"Where the hell are you?" The greeting came out just as she expected; insolent and arrogance dripping from every word.
"Gee mom, I'm fine. Thanks for asking and yourself," she sarcastically retorted into the phone.
"Right now, is not a time to be a smart ass, Edith!" Sitting down, Edith pouted at the stern tone evident in her mother's voice, a sign that she was in deep trouble. "Where have you been? I've been calling and calling you!"
"Calm down," Edith spoke gently, not wanting to stir up any more trouble with her mother by raising her voice.
"Why didn't you pick up?"
"I didn't have my phone on me. I was-"
Gladys Donovan cut her off. "Where were you?"
"I was with a patient," she spoke.
"For an hour and a half," Gladys shrieked in the phone, causing Edith to pull the phone away from her ears a few inches. "Did you forget that we had an appointment with the florist?"
Edith gasped at the revelation. Bringing a hand to her mouth, she muttered a silent, "shit".
"Watch your mouth!"
"I'm sorry, mom. I completely forgot," she groaned, placing her elbow on the flat surface of the desk and dropping her face into her open hand.
"I am fully aware. But lucky for you, your mother handled it like I always do."
Edith perked up. "You rescheduled it?"
"Heavens no, I took the liberty of picking out the flowers myself."
"Why would you do that?"
"You should be thankful I did," Gladys smugly retorted. "Gloria Black is one of the best florists in Huntington. Do you really think she would have rescheduled after you kept her waiting? Besides even if we were to reschedule, I would be making all the decisions anyways. With all the time and effort I'm putting into this wedding, I should be the one walking down the aisle." Being the stand-up woman she is, Gladys could never let a good deed go unnoticed and unappreciated. "Sometimes, I really do believe you resent me. You never acknowledge the help I offer."
'Offer? More like force,' Edith thought to herself as she listened to her mother complain. Wanting to finish the conversation as soon as possible before her mother's ranting turned into sobbing, Edith chimed in. "Look, mom, I do appreciate everything you do for me," she spoke, soothing her voice over as possible as she could. Running a hand through her hair, she clenched a fistful of the auburn locks, giving it a gentle tug.
"You sure have a way of showing it," she haughtily responded.
"Listen, mom, I have to go. My next patient just arrived."
"But don't you want to hear about the flowers I picked for the wedding," she asked, all signs of annoyance vanished.
"Maybe later, alright? Bye, I have to go." Putting an urgent end to the tragic phone conversation, Edith gave her mother no time to reply as she flipped the phone closed.
Throwing the phone into the purse, Edith dropped her head onto the desk with a groan. With the stressful demands of work, a wedding just around the corner and the pressures of dealing with a dramatic, meddling, bipolar mother, Edith was headed towards an early grave.
Letting her eyes flutter close, Edith tried her best to push the issues troubling her out of her mind. In doing so, Edith became completely oblivious to her surroundings.
"Rough day?"
The sudden voice came out in an amused chuckle. Not hearing anyone come into the office, Edith's body jolted into a sitting position and stared at the short brunette standing in the doorway.
The edges of Edith's lips curved into a polite smile as she looked at the older nurse named Alice. "How can you tell," she joked.
"Well it's not every day I walk in on a doctor, taking a nap when they should be working."
Standing up, Edith ran her hands down the front of her outfit to rid it of any wrinkles that might have emerged during her short moment of rest. "I wasn't sleeping," she explained. "I was just resting my eyes."
Nodding her head, Alice gave the young doctor a look of disbelief but kept her warm smile. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. But anyways I came in here to let you know, Mrs. Vinyard is here for her appointment." Running a hand through her hair once more, Edith made her way to the door, taking the clipboard from the nurse's hands. "She's on the room on the left at the end of the hall," the nurse informed.
Giving her a thankful smile, Edith reviewed the information about the patient as she made her way down the hall. Edith could clearly hear the sounds of harsh wheezing as she came to a stop in front of the room. As the coughing subsided, Edith gracefully entered the room.
Sitting in the chair in the corner was an older woman. With restless eyes, dry skin, and a look of discomfort, it took little realize she was her patient. Next to her was a younger man; brown hair, goatee, and dressed in a black jacket, white shirt, black denim, and black boots. There was little resemblance but Edith could tell by the way he comforted her by holding her hand in his while; the other rubbed her back soothingly that he had to be the concern sun.
A smile tugging at her lips, Edith walked over to the pair. She greeted them with an extended hand. "Hi, I'm Dr. Donovan."
Slipping her hands into Edith's Mrs. Vinyard returned the smile. "Nice to meet you, I'm Doris Vinyard." As she let Edith's hand go, she pointed to the handsome young man that occupied the seat next to her. "This is my son, Derek."
With a quick firm handshake and a simple nod and smile, Derek greeted Edith. "Nice to meet you."
Edith held her gaze for quite a while, feeling as if she had seen him around before. "Same here," she spoke quietly. Her brain searched for any recollection connected to his familiar face. Coming up blank, Edith quickly tried to rid the silent atmosphere of any awkwardness by means of breaking eye contact. Clearing her throat, Edith placed the chart on the counter next to the sink and took a seat. "So what brings you here, Mrs. Vinyard?"
"For the past three years, she's had this nasty cough. And over time it's gotten worse," her son spoke up for her. Edith noticed the glare his mother gave him and so did he but chose to ignore it.
Jotting down the information, Edith proceeded with her next question. "Have you gotten it checked out before?"
"Yes." Edith mentally cringed when she heard the distinct harshness of the voice; she guessed was caused from the heavy coughing.
"Did they prescribe you any medicine?"
"Yeah," she spoke with a nod. She slid the beige purse off her shoulder and sat it on her lap. She unzipped it and reached inside. Seconds later, she pulled out a prescription bottle. Her arm extended to Edith, offering her the bottle. "I brought the prescription with me just in case," she pointed out.
Writing down what the bottle said, Edith handed the bottle back to Mrs. Vinyard, who wasted little time throwing the bottle back into her bag. "Have you taken any other medication besides that prescription?"
"Besides a few aspirins every now and then, no."
"I see." Placing the pen between her teeth, Edith lightly gnawed on the cap as she read over her notes. In one swift movement, Edith spun around to face the woman. Edith studied her before removing the pen and speaking. "Mrs. Vinyard, have you ever coughed up blood?"
Looking down at the napkin, in her hand, Mrs. Vinyard slowly nodded her head.
"How often does this occur?"
"It's only happened twice in the past year." This time it was her son who spoke.
"Are you a smoker?"
Once again, Mrs. Vinyard nodded as oppose to using words. There was no doubt that she was nervous about what the outcome of her doctor's visit would be.
"How many cigarettes do you smoke a day?"
"Two packs," Derek answered, again, looking at his mother. There was no comfort behind the look he gave his mother. It was a look a parent would give a child after the child did something wrong.
Writing one last thing down, Edith placed the cap on the pen and turned to the mother and son once more. "Mrs. Vinyard it sounds like you are suffering from chronic bronchitis but to make sure, I want to run some tests."
Derek's features seemed to soften as he looked from his mother and to the doctor. "Will she be okay?"
"As of right now, you guys have nothing to worry about." Standing, Edith took the chart with her as she made her way towards the door. Before stepping outside the check-up room, she turned around to see, Mrs. Vinyard, gazing at the wall across from them and Derek dropping his face in his hands, no longer comforting his mother. "Nurse Brown will get you for your tests in just a moment," she spoke in a soft voice. When her notice was not acknowledged, Edith wasted no time walking out of the room.
"How are we going to pay for that Derek?"
Walking into the apartment, right behind his mother, Derek stared at her with sympathy. Locking the door, he slid of his jacket and flung it on the coat rack next to the door and did the same with hers as she handed it to him. She muttered the same thing over and over again; on their way to the hospital, when they got to the hospital, and on their way from the hospital. Although, she was driving him crazy with her worrying, he couldn't help but run that question through his head, also.
Their rushed move to Huntington Beach after Danny's murder put them in debt but there was not one ounce of regret on his part. He did as he promised and got them out of Venice and he didn't plan on heading back anytime soon.
"We hardly have enough money to pay the bills and the rent."
"Don't worry about," he spoke, standing next to the couch as she took a seat. He winced as she began to cough. Her face twisted with discomfort as she held the napkin to her mouth. "We'll figure it out."
He watched as she dropped clasped her hands together and held it in front of her face while she closed her eyes. At times like these-when he wasn't so busy being the man of the house- he realized that the weight of the family didn't just fall on his shoulders but hers as well.
"Mommy! Mommy!" The sound of the youngest Vinyard brought a smile to his face as he watched her run past him and into his mother's awaiting arms. With her arms wrapped tightly around her mother's neck, she looked up at her face with her brown doe eyes and slight pout. "Davina told me you went to the hospital today. Are you going to be okay?"
Looking down at the seven year old, Doris ran a hand over her baby's blonde hair and gave her a reassuring smile. "Of course I am, sweetie." Dropping a kiss on her forehead, Doris pulled Ally into her lap. Looking up from Ally's face, she looked past Derek, to see her oldest daughter, walking into the living room, her wavy blonde hair tied back as strayed strains fell over her face.
Stopping next to Derek, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder as she stood on her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "How was it," Davina asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Derek could tell that, she too, had been worried.
"The doctor ran some tests. They say it's Chronic Bronchitis," Derek muttered, looking down at the discolored rug as he spoke.
"Will she be okay?"
"I'll be fine," Doris declared with a triumphant smile, the first in a few days.
"There's no cure but they say the right treatment can prevent it from getting worse."
"In other words, I'll live," she added, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.
Shaking his head, Derek looked at her in disbelief. Marching over to the couch, Derek grabbed the cigarette pack out of her hands. She looked at him with wide eyes as he ripped open the pack and took out the rest of the cigarettes. Breaking them in half, he threw them in the ashtray. Turning to Doris, he pointed a finger at her and, his tone matching the look he gave her. "No more of that shit, okay?"
Watching him with desperate eyes, Doris responded. "She didn't say to quit. She told me to cut back."
Derek stood his ground. "No more."
"Yeah, mama, no more," Ally told her mother, mimicking her brother.
Breaking out into another smile, Doris looked down at Ally. "No more, baby," she whispered, pulling Ally's body closer to hers as she held her tighter. "I promise."