- T h r e e Y e a r s L a t e r -
"Everything seems to be great. Vitals are healthy; mentality seems to
be healthy as well . . . ." A male doctor flipped pages over a
polished dark wooden clipboard, eyes that were shielded with large
glasses shifted from right to left. "All appropriate shots have been
given." He added with a nod before flipping all the pages previously
turned over back to their rightful side, he shifted his gaze up to the
woman standing in front of him, a smile gracing his forty eight year
old features. "Little Rhiannon is perfectly healthy for a girl her
age. Though, she seemed a little shy when I asked her questions, every
kid that age is though. My little girl was the same way." He chuckled
lightly as he set the clipboard upon his desk, averting his train of
thought back to the woman with the brown bob standing in front of him.
"Any questions or concerns, Mrs. Young?" The man asked, doing his duty
as a doctor making sure that every base that needed to be touched was
touched on.
Rachel Young, not looking much different then she had three years ago
except a few settle signs that she was now just as middle-aged as her
husband. "Why yes, I do." She spoke firmly and curtly, tucking a
strand of hair behind her medium sized ear. "Her accent . . . I'm well
aware that it's British mixed in with something else, which I don't
know, but . . . is that normal? She lives in America, and has been
here ever since she was born. You'd think she'd have a voice like the
rest of us." She bit her bottom lip revealing a line of pearly white
teeth.
The doctor nodded his head as he leaned against the desk, crossing his
arms in a casual manner. "A very good question." He said kindly,
taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes before placing them back
upon the bridge of his straight nose. "You see, accents can actually
be genetic. This is a fact lost within assumption that if you're born
in a certain place then you will automatically take on the type of
voice everyone else around you has. That is usually the case, but
accents are genetic as well and when they're genetic it is impossible
to change. If the parents have strong accents in their own genes then
it will no doubt pass onto the child. Oh and you mentioned something
about her accent having something else mixed in, I noticed that too."
The man paused for a moment, as if trying to think of something. "My
father in law's stepdaughter is German and she had a much similar
accent to Rhiannon's except, of course, taking away the dominating
British part. It is not my job to assume so I will leave it at that."
The explanation seemed good enough for the young woman as she spared
a small nod, taking in the words that he spoke to find any flaws that
didn't make sense, in the end Rachel found nothing. Something that
should be very well expected from a doctor, for an imperfection that
they could make could lead to death or inaccuracy. "I have one more
question." Rachel said plainly, glancing to the doctor who looked her
straight in the eye to prove that he was paying attention. "Her eyes.
They're beautiful but they look as if someone slapped two different
colored contacts in. Obviously there has to be something wrong if her
eyes are two different colors and the shades of blue look unnatural."
She sighed, thinking of how many times she would steal glances at her
daughter's precious eyes. Her left iris a striking bright pristine
blue and her right iris a dark ocean blue which made a strikingly
beautiful yet cryptic combination.
At the woman's words the doctor nodded his head, something he did very
often. Reaching for his clipboard he flipped the attached pages to a
precise page. "Your daughter has a severe case of heterochromia." He
looked up to see Rachel's frightened expression. "It's a disease in
the iris that causes the pigments to shift at different times thus
creating two different colors. Now, in minor heterochromia the iris
usually takes on two natural colors like perhaps a dark green and a
gray blue, but in Rhiannon's case, since she has severe heterochromia
the pigments create unnatural `contact' looking colors." After the
doctor spoke he closed his clipboard and set it gently back onto his
desk. "However, heterochromia can spread to the retina and cornea and
cause blindness. There is a very small, one to one thousand chance of
that happening, but when there is a severe case you must always be
cautious. At her age, it is nothing to worry about."
Soon words of thanks and goodbyes were exchanged before Rachel exited
out the office, a sigh escaped her lips from relief knowing that her
daughter was indeed healthy despite her diagnosis of severe
heterochromia, but the doctor said it wouldn't pose as a threat so she
decided not to hang onto worry much longer. A moment was spent
checking out and then her slim black nylon adorned legs carried her
into the waiting room where her husband, Micheal Young, was waiting
with a little pale blonde girl who was playing with a random toy
truck. Once she saw her mother she snapped her gaze up, a toothy grin
was shown as she stood up and rushed over to the woman. "Mummy!" She
cried out, her accent blocked the `o' out and created a `u' instead. A
couple people in the office glanced at the little girl, surprised by
the way she sounded.
Micheal pointed to the restroom once his daughter made her way over to
his wife; Rachel caught his gesture and nodded her head before smiling
down at the adopted daughter who still thought of Rachel as her birth
mother despite the many differences they obviously held. Once Micheal
was inside the bathroom Rachel took her daughter's hand, still smiling
down at her, about to say something until the young girl eagerly
interrupted. "Guess what, mummy? That guy asked me tons of weird
things! Like my favorite color, I told him pink because pink is
awesome and prettyful!" She slipped her pale hand out of her mother's
and curled two of her fingers on each hand into circles as she placed
them over her eyes. "He also had huge things around his eyes! Like
this! I thought he was an alien!" Rachel smiled at her daughter,
watching her hop around for a moment, her long pale blonde hair
bounced and those beautiful irises sparkled amorously. "What was he,
anyways, mummy?" Rhiannon asked, that toothy grin diminished into a
look of curiosity.
"A doctor, sweetheart. He helps people." The mother answered her
daughter, smiling down at her. Seconds later Micheal exited the
restroom, putting on his coat and telling Rhiannon to hold out her
arms so he could put on her puffy pink jacket and cute homemade
mittens courtesy of Rachel. The three of them walked out of the door,
Micheal holding firmly onto his daughter's small three year old aged
hand as they ventured to their car.
"Really? I want to help people! I shall become a doctor too! The best
of the best!" She grinned that toothy grin, determination showed not
only in her expression but in posture as well. Her childlike naivety
covered the truth of what it would take to become a doctor, but a
three year old never did take such factors into consideration. They
had the state of mind that they could do anything, and Rhiannon was no
different, she had the confidence of the world only because she barely
knew what the world really was. "I'll even wear those thingies!" She
said, referring the doctor's large glasses. Rachel giggled and Micheal
gave her a look, not sure as to what she was talking about. He wasn't
sure he could ever get used to Rhiannon's goofy demeanor and random
words, even if she was only at the age of three.
