Carlisle looked over the chart he'd written out for the adventurous young lady that had just left the office.
Esme Platt, he thought to himself. What a unique name. Esme.
He began to think of the stipulations that women had to live up to and abide by, and how truly sexist and ridiculous they were. Sure, things had gotten better since the 1600's but women were still considered secondary citizens in the eyes of society. The fact that this girl, Esme, had broken through that barrier, even in the slightest of ways by climbing trees, gave Carlisle a sense of utmost respect for her bold character.
She could turn into some pioneer woman, he thought. A smile crossed his face at the thought of her leading a reform of women in the workplace, or making a salary equal to that of her future husband's. If there was one thing Carlisle thought was for certain, it was that Esme would lead a long, fulfilling life.
She will definitely be one of the rare ones who makes a difference.
"Dr. Cullen." A nurse entered the room with a smile, giving off a flirtatious vibe. "Would you like me to take that chart back to your office for you?"
Carlisle looked up for a moment, finding more of a spark from the name written on the sheet of white paper than from the attractive woman's glowing expression as she waited with a smile to hear his answer.
"I'm still looking it over," he told her, "But thank you for the offer."
"Anytime," she said, still lingering in the doorway. "Anything you need just let me know."
Carlisle nodded, letting his eyes fall back to the woman's short biography. He didn't mean to be rude to the nurse, who awkwardly left the room upon his lack of interest in her, or the double-meaning of the comment she had just laid out onto the table.
He grinned to himself again at the thought of Esme Platt making a difference in the world, and he hoped that his thoughts were accurate. With that, he brought the sheet down to be filed and left for the day with a smile on his face.
"Esme Ann, we are having company tonight and I will not have you hobbling around this house in front of our guests." Mrs. Platt hadn't had enough of scolding her daughter. "I would rather not explain to our friends about what lead you to this condition." She motioned her hands down to her broken leg as she spoke just as exasperated as ever.
Esme didn't want to spend the evening with her parents' friends. They were dull, boring and rather stuck up. She always felt edgy and uncomfortable when they would visit, and so she welcomed her punishment, but didn't let it show in her features.
"Okay." She gave a pouty look to her mother.
"Your father will be home soon. I can't wait to tell him the in's and out's of our afternoon."
"I need help getting up the stairs so I can attempt to shower and sulk for the rest of the evening."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic Esme," her mother said, "It will do you no good in getting out of your punishment." She aided her daughter up the stairwell and into her bedroom.
"I've got it from here," she told her mother. "I can manage to give myself a bath and get into my pajamas for the night. I won't bother you and Dad at all."
Mrs. Platt looked at her daughter. "Very well. If you do need me to help you get dressed, give a holler. I'll be in the kitchen cooking."
Esme nodded and her mother shut the door. She looked around the empty room, knowing she would be in for a long, boring night.
It's still better than hanging around with those stiffs downstairs, she thought. Oh, and I can't wait for what my father will have to say about all of this. A repeat of my mother's words I'm sure, only more harsh.
She managed her way down to the wash room and cleaned up, being careful not to bump the leg, or ruin the cast that Dr. Cullen had assembled for her.
Esme smiled to herself at the passing thought of his name. She splashed some cold water onto her face, then leaned her hands onto the cold sink, being instantly reminded of the feel of his icy hands. A chill ran down her back, but it wasn't the cold surface that caused such a reaction.
Gosh he was handsome, she thought.
Esme continued to wash her face before eventually making her way back down the hallway to her room. She tried not to hobble around too much, as she didn't want to be bombarded and smothered by her mother.
As she slipped into her pajamas, she heard her father's voice as he made his way into the house after a long day's work. Immediately, her mother told him the story of their day, and she waited for him to barge into her room as his heavy footsteps bounded up the staircase.
"Esme." He knocked on the door, but didn't wait for her to call him in. His eyes fixed on her cast, and then the crutches and he shook his head with disapproval. "You disobeyed your mother's wishes. Playing in trees? Trees are no place for a young girl."
"I'm sorry, father. I know. It won't happen again."
He glared at his daughter, feeling embaressment washing over him at the thought that someone might have seen them in town.
The next fifteen minutes or so, Esme blocked him out. He yelled, and cursed once or twice, stating his disappointment over and over again like a broken record of a terrible song. She nodded monotonously and spoke each "Yes sir" with a blandness in her voice that made her want to vomit.
"Stay in here for the rest of the night." That was how he ended it, then left before she could respond a final time.
Esme sulked for a minute or two before she finally found a comfortable spot in the center of her bed. She eyed the white paint on the ceiling as it chipped away in certain areas.
Bored already, she thought with a sigh.
Downstairs, her parents chatted anxiously back and forth as they prepared for an evening with their stuck up friends. She hated the sound of their voices. They didn't care about who she was or what she wanted. Sure, every teenage girl feels that way at some point right? But she recognized that it was a permanent feeling, not just a passing by thought because she was angry with them. They really didn't listen.
Esme thought about her conversation with Dr. Cullen.
He listened, she thought. He really listened. He wasn't pretending, or yessing her to death. His eyes spoke the truth, and his responses were equally as uplifting.
She couldn't get the image of him out of her mind. She had never been instantly captivated by someone in her life. Something about him was unique and comforting.
"What was his first name?" she asked herself aloud. He hadn't said it to her directly, but she was sure someone would know, her mother perhaps.
Esme looked down at her leg and ran her hand across the cast. She closed her eyes, picturing the color of his eyes as he looked deeply into hers. They, too, were unique. She had never seen anyone with eyes of topaz and gold. Somehow the cold temperature of his hands provided her with more warmth than any touch she'd ever experienced in her life.
Her mother's hugs were rigid and stiff, and her father rarely showed any type of affection. There was no one else to throw in the mix of things, but she was sure her parents should have provided her with some sense of warmth and comfort. Esme hadn't had a boyfriend before, so she had no romantic experience to go by.
She knew Dr. Cullen was older than she was, if not by much.
He couldn't have been older than twenty-one or twenty-two, she thought, and he would never be interested in a dumb, young girl like me anyway. He's probably married.
Esme thought for a moment, knowing her eyes actively scanned his fingers for a wedding ring. She smiled to herself, knowing he hadn't been wearing one.
Maybe not.
She reached under the mattress of her bed and took out a journal she liked to write in on occasion and scribbled the day's date on the top of an empty page.
Her entry began with: I wonder if I'll ever see him again...