The stiff blue chairs of the hospital waiting room sat there, mocking me. Piles of old tattered magazines awaited my approach. 'At least I brought my iPod' I thought. The receptionist at the front desk ruffled through untidy stacks of documents, while my boyfriend, Hayden, waited patiently.
"Can I help you?" asked the woman, her dull eyes twinged with annoyance behind her leopard print-rimmed spectacles.
"Yes", he answered coolly. "I do believe I have a wrist surgery at approximately nine o'clock? My name is Hayden Elliott."
"Elliott, let's see..." she answered, typing professionally into her ancient computer.
"Promise me you'll be okay..." I pleaded him, my voice cracking.
"Don't worry about me, Ava, I'll be fine," he reassured, giving me a peck on the lips. He smiled, holding my gaze with his ocean eyes.
"Here are your papers, sign the required areas and fill out the information on the back," interrupted the receptionist.
Hayden winked at me, and obeyed. While he entered his height (6 foot 1) and birthday (March 7th), I noticed the woman's gaze on my hair. I blushed, remembering my lack of a hair brush this morning.
"Alrighty then," he commented cheerfully, handing back the clipboard. "What room should I go to so I can change into my ultra sexy hospital dress?"
I smiled, holding back a giggle.
"Room D17, down the left hallway," the receptionist growled, obviously not amused.
"Let's go!" he announced, taking my hand in his.
We walked, the cold bright lights reflecting off the hard linoleum floor. We passed nurses in their blue uniforms, patients with walkers, a couple leaving with their new infant, and empty wheelchairs awaiting weak bodies.
None of this was new to me, as Hayden is always injuring himself. The last time we were here, he almost lost use of his arm. There was much nerve damage after he got distracted while working with a table saw. It was a miracle he healed, but Hayden is so carefree about everything. I'm always the worrywart, planning ahead and stressing about the smallest things. Maybe that's why we're so good together, he's the only element in my life that links me to some sort of freedom...
This time, he broke his wrist in four different places from complications at his band's concert. It healed too fast, and needed the surgery to re-break it. Then they would insert these little metal pins to hold it together, like some Frankenstein pincushion.
"Look, don't worry about it!" he assured. "This time my surgeon is the same one who fixed my cracked ribs. His name is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. I don't know him very well, but he doesn't really talk a whole lot. You know, the guy who's kids go to my school?"
Of course I knew who he meant. The Cullens were known all over Forks. I've only seen one of them, a tall burly guy with thick black hair. I think his name was Emmett or something like that.
I'm homeschooled, which is why only Hayden goes to Forks High. My mom has to travel often for her work as a businesswoman, so I end up going with her. If I was in public school, my attendance record would be as absent as food left on a fat kid's plate.
"I know, but I'm still worried. What if something goes wrong this time? Not all surgeons know what they're doing, you know..." I argued.
"Has anything gone seriously wrong all the other times we've been here?" he replied. "I'll be fine, Ava. Besides, you're here with me."
That still couldn't console me. My father had the same carefree attitude when he went in for open-heart surgery. The surgeons had to explore the valves after his heart attack. He died on the operating table.
Even though I was only 9, I could still remember that feeling I had when the doctor told us. That empty, lost feeling of being in some alternate universe that can't possibly be real. Ever since then, hospitals have always given me the creeps...
We finally arrived at a nondescript door that was identical to all the other ones in the dull hospital. In peeling letters on a plaque above it read "D17".
"Shall we enter?" asked Hayden mischievously. I still don't understand how he can act like an excited little kid at Disneyland amidst such depressing atmosphere.
He held the door for me, and I reluctantly walked through. Although I've never been in that particular room, it wouldn't have made the slightest difference. The same row of beds surrounded by the same 360 degree pastel yellow curtains. A few dormant TV sets were perched in the ceiling corners.
A nurse was waiting. She looked way too pretty to be a nurse, though. She might have been in her late teens or early twenties, maybe my age of 17.
"Hello, you must be Hayden Elliott," she gleamed, showing perfect white teeth. I couldn't help but stare. Was she really human or just a robot fashioned after an angel? I was too mesmerized to check if Hayden had the same reaction.
She flipped her perfect blond hair. I felt even more ashamed of my appearance than I was when the receptionist was staring me down! Why oh why couldn't I have atleast run a comb through my hair?!
"Right this way, Mr. Elliott..." the model instructed. We went to a miniature room about the size of a broom closet, containing an old-fashioned height-and-weight scale. "I need to take your current height and weight so we can measure the correct amount of anesthetic for your IV."
Hayden looked a little distracted, staring at her perfect breasts. I know he's a guy and all, but couldn't he have been a little more discreet? I didn't really worry about it, though. He doesn't ever stare at other girls. Then again, other girls don't naturally look like supermodels.
"Mr. Elliott?" she reminded.
"Oh, right. Sorry..." he blushed the shade of her red nail polish.
After the awkward measuring and such, we were set free from the broomcloset.
The model led us to a vacant bed by the back wall, its curtains closed on both sides.
"The doctor will be right with you. I'll be back in about 10 minutes to drop off your gown." Then she left, leaving a sweet, nonhuman smell behind her.
I sat down on the bed, exhausted from all the rushing around this morning. I had woken up almost 20 minutes late! Hayden sat down beside me.
"That's one of Carlise's adopted daughters," he said, a confused look on his face. "Her name's Rosalie. But why she would be here, I'm not sure..."
"You mean you know that girl?" I asked, puzzled at why I never knew that Forks High was attended by supermodels. "I thought you had to go through years of post-secondary schooling to be a nurse. Wait, are you completely sure that's her?"
"Positive. She always has this weird sinister look in her eyes, and doesn't really talk to anyone. The Cullens are strange, though. All five of them sit at the same table at lunch everyday, along with that new girl who seems somewhat normal. My friends say her name is Bella, her dad is with the police force."
"Then how come she seemed so talkative and nice?" I inquired.
"That's what confuses me..." he trailed off, talking halfly to himself.
Then we heard footsteps. I peeked my head around the curtain to see who had entered the room. Dr. Carlisle Cullen had arrived.