A Moderna Love Story
by toad
I wait patiently in the waiting room, bouncing my leg as the clock ticks on and on. The fountain bubbles up in the corner, a feeble attempt to easy the anxiety of all who step foot inside. The clock ticks louder and louder. My heart is about to jump out of my chest. I swallow hard to keep it down. The door swings open.
"Are you ready to come back?"
I hear the voice and turn around. I am greeted by a tall, blonde, handsome doctor who most likely models on weekends. His white lab coat trains behind him, his crisp blue button up and matching tie well-fitting. Our gaze meets, and he returns it with a warm smile.
"Come on back." His pale hand motions for me to follow him. I get up, push in my seat, and follow him, my heart pounding with every stride I take. He leads me into a sterile white room, with an examination table in the middle. The walls, normally covered by informational posters, are bare. A chill runs up my spine. The room is as cold as the arctic, or at least compared to the normal temperature of the waiting room.
"If you don't mind taking a seat for me right there," he says while motioning to the exam table. I hop up onto the exam table and swing my legs over the side. As I look up to him, our gaze meets again. The world stops for a second as we study every detail on each other's faces. His eyes are a shade of, yellow? That can't be. Maybe it is the fluorescents. They burn light into every corner of the room. His face is pale, but the warm smile on his face makes up for it. His blonde hair. All I want to do is run my fingers through it. I focus once again on his warm smile. Just staring at it for one second warms up the frigid exam room.
"I'm Dr. Cullen, and I'll be administering your vaccine today. Is that alright with you?" His calm tone matches his caring demeanor. I shake my head yes, although my heart is still beating a million miles an hour in my chest. "Do you have any questions?" He asks, seeming to perceive my anxiety. I try to swallow my anxiety down again, but it wells up in my throat. He tries to meet my gaze again, but I look away, swallowing hard.
"Not really… I'm just not the biggest fan of needles."
Dr. Cullen grabs his chair from the corner and pulls it close before sitting down. He wraps his arms around the back of the chair and rolls over to me. I wish he would do that to me. I thought to myself. His stark white lab coat drapes over the sides of his chair. I focus on the embroidery on his coat: Carlisle Cullen, M.D.
"Everyone is afraid of needles – it's totally normal. You aren't going to feel a thing, I promise." I look up from his lab coat and Dr. Cullen's warm smile turns into a friendly smirk. A wave of calmness rushes over me, and for a second, I feel at ease. "I believe in you. We can get through this together. You ready?" He asks.
A mischievous smirk stretches across my face.
"Yeah. Let's do it."
"Great." The warm smile returns. Even though his face is remarkably pale, there is such a warmth around him. He gets up and heads over to the sink.
"So how do you like living in Forks?" He starts the water and begins lathering his hands. His skin looks almost as if it is glistening.
"It's really great, especially with all of the sunny weather we have," I answer sarcastically.
Dr. Cullen turns off the water with his elbow and lets out a laugh as he dries his hands. His laugh sounds genuine.
"You know," he begins as he slips his smooth hands into a pair of gloves, "the weather is what brought me to Forks in the first place."
"Really?"
"Yep." He slides back down in his office chair, rolling towards the counter. "My wife, family and I love it here. We're not the biggest fans of sunshine, believe it or not."
His wife. Of course, he was married. Of course, he had a family. I know this shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how alluring Dr. Cullen is.
"I take it you guys burn really easily?" I ask, wondering if my question that could be considered as a snide comment is too harsh.
He forces out another laugh. This one does not sound as genuine. "You could say that." My eyes gaze back over to the counter, and I try not to focus on the syringe that stares me down from across the counter.
"I'm going to load up the syringe, and we'll get you out of here in just a few minutes." Dr. Cullen takes the cap off of the syringe, turns it over and sticks it in the vial, slowly pulling it up. The clear liquid rushes into the syringe, just as my anxiety floods back into my body. I squint and try to read the label on the side of the vial. Moderna.
He pulls the needle out of the vial, turns it right side up and flicks it a few times. The room is so silent that the sound of Dr. Cullen flicking the syringe seems to echo around the room. Dr. Cullen caps the needle, places it down, grabs an alcohol pad, and heads towards me.
"Would you mind rolling up your sleeve for me, please?"
I grab my sleeve and roll it up.
"Good girl." Those two words send chills down my spine, as if is touching the most intimate parts of my soul. "I'm just going to wipe your arm with this alcohol pad really quick." The cold alcohol pad touches my skin, and electricity courses through my entire body. Is this a normal reaction to somebody cleaning off your arm? I think to myself. Even from the first glance, however, I know Dr. Cullen isn't normal.
He tosses the alcohol wipe in the trash and picks up the syringe. He takes the cap off and drops it on the counter, and then rolls back over to me.
"Alright, here we go."
I look away as he pinches my arm. As he touches my skin, another volt of electricity spikes through my veins. I can't help myself but look at his face once again. Even though he's looking at my arm, I get the feeling of being special. Like I am his only patient in the world.
In goes the needle. I feel a tiny prick, but mostly I feel the same electricity of when he touched me the first time. He plunges the syringe down and pulls it out. He walks over to the counter, caps the needle, and places it into the sharps container all in one swift motion. He pulls a band aid out of the cabinet, takes off the plastic and walks over to me. He delicately places the band aid over the injection site, and my heart flutters as he touches my skin again. He takes his gloves off and throws them into the trash. I roll my sleeve down, lingering a second to remember where he touched my arm.
I feel a pang of sorrow as I realize our time together is ending.
"Well, you're all done. You did great!" A combination of his warm smile and flirtatious smirk stretches across his face. It is comforting and playful at the same time. "If you don't mind waiting in the lobby for 15 minutes just to make sure you don't have any adverse reactions," he said with a wink. He winked at me!
I hop off of the exam table and turn to him with a bout of courage.
"Dr. Cullen-"
"Please, call me Carlisle." Another wink.
"Carlisle, thank you so much for the pleasant experience. My anxiety can be debilitating at times, and-"
He cuts me off again. But for some strange reason, I don't mind.
"It's my pleasure. I'll see you in three weeks for your second dose!"
He leads me into the lobby, waves for a quick second and disappears. Just like that, he's gone. The handsome, pale doctor who took me by surprise.
My arm is sore but is a pleasant reminder of him. I know that I am going to spend the next three weeks obsessing. Every flutter of breath, every thought, thinking, dreaming, hoping, longing for him. This is going to be a long three weeks.