"I'm not sick, but I'm not well.
And I'm so hot 'cause I'm in hell."
Harvey Danger
Friday, April 5th, Year 1
It's not raining, the birds are chattering away, and the sunlight is pouring into her eyes. Those are Dani's first thoughts as she greets the morning.
It's hard to even sit up. Five days in. Day five, ready to welcome her to the sunrise. She rubs her eyes furiously, attempting to orient herself to My Great Big Mistake. Her thoughts are clouds and her body feels like sawed wood, dusty and incomplete, as hollow as a dead tree. She needs to wake up, get up out of bed, face the new day and face her new life. But even her best efforts leave her against the bedframe, too exhausted to even find the motivation to see if any new sprouts have perked up from beneath the earth of her garden.
A new day. The sun continues to rise, the sky does not shatter and fall. Will she shatter and fall? No. Not today. She may be physically weak, but she knows that she has strength within her; no one can do the things she has done without having some sort of spine. Strength and soul, she has it in spades. Now get up, darling. You got this.
Lifting herself to a sitting position, she brings one hand down, feeling around the sheets surrounding her and clumsily finding her bag left at the ankles of her feet. Did she bring that to the bar with her? No, she didn't. That was stupid of her. She only paid her tab with the change in her pocket. Yeah, that was pretty naive. She should always be prepared at all times.
She doesn't have much to her name. Her wallet, which contains her identification papers; a blurry image of her face, the angle as unflattering as they come. A little bit of gold, though she keeps the rest of it in one of the drawers of her wardrobe, a habit carried over from her life in Zuzu City. A photo of her when her illness was at its worst; hollow eyes in a sunken face, a hospital gown draped over bones. A simple picture, yet her greatest motivation.
And, of course, her knife.
She only has the one. And it isn't even hers. Dani was gifted it by a boozed-up girl in a Zuzu bar bathroom, on a night when she had slipped out of her household to get some of the life experience she had been looking for. The stranger had thrust it to her, right against her stomach and thankfully sheathed, and she murmured to her, "I think you might need this more than I do."
Dani will never forget that lovely woman, drunk beyond her own reasonable comprehension, but still trying to look out for a little girl in a crowded bar on her own. And as a result, she loves this little knife. It's a small, cute thing, but steel nonetheless. And narrow. It reminds her of the towers that lined her old church, sharp peaks shuttering in the distant breezes that rattled them, and so this knife is her wind spire, staving off the cold gusts that just would not relent.
A trip down memory lane is captivating, but she's let herself become distracted, distant. It's only after she once again notices the glare of the sun against the threadbare curtains that she realizes that she is five days in, and she has forgotten what she is scheduled to do today.
She stumbles out of bed, doing her best to not look at the clock. Her anxiety gets the better of her. As soon as she glances at the electric numbers blaring themselves forward, desperate to be noticed, she presses her face against her palms in disbelief.
Fantastic. I'm late.
Shaking, she tries to get ready as fast as humanly possible. From the pile of used clothing at the foot of her bed, she snatches up a random sweater and pants, forgetting to even grab socks as she hastily gets dressed. She escorts herself out the doorway, more afraid of the consequences of missing this appointment than she is of fainting. And if she does, what then? They will see what she is made of soon enough.
The JojaBar remains on the shelf, right where she left it.
She doesn't feel all right. That is the most evident thing she notices about the walk to town today. Nothing seems real. It's as though she's walking on starlight, vibrant and impermanent. It's not a good feeling, at least, not right now. Today, it fills her with guilt. She trudges along, wondering how much longer she can keep this up. Shatter and fall. But she doesn't feel with it enough to care.
When she informed Dr. Sokolowski about her intention to move out of her parents' apartment in Zuzu City and into the distant countryside of Stardew Valley, he nearly laughed her out of his office. But that was sort of what she had grown to expect from him, that sort of give and take, and she shared his amusement with the plans still in her metaphorical hands. The rapport they had built up over the years had allowed for a modest amount of jest, but once he realized that she was serious, that may have been their first true argument.
But that didn't really matter, because her decision to leave signaled a greater understanding at large. She had been unwell for so many years, and almost every freedom had been limited in some way. But once she truly understood what privileges accompany adulthood, the whole game changed. Now she is trying her own life out on her own, seeing what will fit and what won't, seeing herself, the first true opportunity to discover who she is and what she is capable of. Maybe it is a fool's errand. But there is only one way to find out, right?
Lean in and learn. Understand her power. It's there within her, and she's legal, free to do whatever she wishes. They all lost their hold on her upon her ascension to adulthood; the only thing they had left was societal pressure. And that slipped from their grip sooner than they thought it would.
She reaches the first-aid sign in the town square, knowing that this must be the only clinic in town. The Pelican Town Clinic, the one she was told to find when she first booked this appointment. The sight of the sign relieves her; at least it wasn't hard to find. She presses against the door, finding it easy to open, unlike every other forsaken door in this town. The hatch clicks open with the slightest press of her palm.
A bright-eyed nurse snaps her head up at her arrival.
"Hi," Dani rasps, her voice still gruff from sleep. "Um, I'm here for my appointment."
Dani hasn't met this person before. The nurse writes down something, scribbling away on a pad of paper that Dani isn't close enough to read. The nurse nods, her expression friendly. "Hi. Daniella Wright? Please come with me to the next room."
Dani steps forward down a short hallway, suddenly self-conscious of her footwork. White walls and clean tile flooring, though she can see the grime within the cracks. Her guide pauses at the end of the room, smiling with genuine kindness. "My name's Maru. It's nice to meet you, Daniella."
"Likewise," she mutters uneasily. It is not the nurse's fault. All doctors, all nurses, all medical professional, they make her feel closed in, as though someone had shown a bright light against all her habits. It had taken Sokol several years to finally break through those walls she put up. Dani gives Maru a nervous smile, trying to circumvent her own sharp response.
Who is this woman? It is hard to say. She seems so young, but so convincingly professional. Dani guesses that they are around the same age, give or take a few years. It is possible to get your LPN license at her age range; she only knows that because she had researched it at some point in her life. Even BHTs are not qualified enough to administer these types of treatment, however limited. But little towns have their little quirks. Perhaps she is just a receptionist who merely dresses the part.
Maru jots down more in her checkbook. A pen scraping against paper. Dani tries her best not to fidget with her sleeves. They notice that, after all. Maru finally says, "Okay, Daniella, are you feeling well today?"
"As well as I get," Dani responds, trying to make a joke.
A pair of serious eyes stare her down. "Do you feel unwell at all?"
"No, not at all." Dani states, another forced grin.
"All right. Please wait here; Dr. Hoffmann will see you shortly." A glimpse of teeth, a pristine uniform pacing away from her. A wooden door painted white shutting behind a flurry of steps.
Dani waits until the doors close behind Maru before she frets with her sleeves, wanting to be somewhere, anywhere else. It is exceedingly difficult, trying to stay so composed. No vitals from Maru, no difficult questions quite yet, but it leaves her unnerved all the same. Every time she walks into a doctor's office, she feels like a wounded animal, baring her teeth and snapping; it's not out of malice, but genuine fear. It's almost impossible, thinking of nurses and doctors in any sort of positive light. Shouldn't she feel justified in this?
It wasn't always this way. This is a learned phobia.
Medical professional were the guardians of inpatient, and they displayed their humanity in damning ways. At the end of the day, they were imperfect, and they often were unable to reach the necessary qualifications that were required of them. Maybe they should be faulted for that, or maybe not. Dr. Sokol was the only one who deserved to be there, caring for others in such vulnerable states. Dani eventually grew to rely on him as not only a doctor, but as a trusted counselor and confidant. And though they bickered like cats and dogs, she trusted him to the fullest extent. But now she was miles away from him, and he was likely still furious with her. Time will tell if they will ever speak again. Somehow, leaving him behind was more difficult than severing her ties with her parents.
The lack of his presence is just another reminder of how much she has removed herself from her former life, and the consequences of her actions are continuing to haunt her. She finds a stray string on her right sleeve and she tugs at it aimlessly, not wanting to pull it and ruin the sweater but leaving it be seems intolerable. She toys at the frayed ends, rattled to her core, thinking about the right way or the wrong way. There is no way. There is no goddamned way.
Dr. Harvey Hoffmann finds Dani in the waiting room, holding one end of a string between two fingers, with half of her sleeve unraveled at the seams.
"Good day," Dani says brightly. She waves her hand, her right one. Countless stray strands hang from her sleeve, reaching all the way down to her lap.
"Er..." The doctor clears his throat loudly, a crackle of discomfort. "Good morning, Daniella. Thank you for coming by."
"Sorry I'm late." Dani stands up, trying to bundle up as much of the string as she can. It hangs uselessly from her forearm. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."
"It's no trouble at all." Dr. Hoffmann moves ahead, directing her down a hallway with two entrances to her left. For such a small doctor's office, it's shocking that even have two rooms to spare. It's such an odd thing, how different this clinic is from old one, while her new practitioner is beside her, somehow as perturbed as she is. "Why don't you sit down?"
Dani nods, plopping down on one of the leather seats nearest to the door, knowing that the doctor had meant for her to sit on the edge of the cot in the center of the room. It feels like a first date, a chaste brush with destiny. And this is all health stuff, needed to make her better, but the tension building in her chest tells her that this is nothing more than her old routine with a new person, watched over and stared at and documented. As sexy as it gets, with sarcasm dripping with every thought. Just some girl, another sack of flesh to be examined for the day, yet another reason to be wary of medical professional.
Dr. Hoffmann is quite different than Dr. Sokol though, even at just a first glance. Dr. Sokol is graying prematurely, his years of service in the industry leaving him sarcastic and bitter with a zero tolerance for bullshit; all of those reasons were why Dani and him had such a close bond. If he said something, he meant it, he believed it to its fullest extent. And while she only listened to his counsel maybe twenty-five percent of the time, that type of educated yet no-nonsense approach from a doctor is something to be valued. Dr. Hoffmann, on the other hand, is far younger; perhaps mid-thirties, but it is difficult to tell for certain. His demeanor is completely at odds with Dr. Sokol's approach, as well; it almost feels that he is the guest, gingerly following a lead that she is reluctant to take the reins of.
Her new doctor begins penning something down to paper. Already? Dani tries to figure out what the hell he could possibly be writing. "Okay," Dr. Hoffmann says. "Time to get your temperature."
The basics, Dani thinks, grinning as the reader is under her tongue. After this is where the fun begins.
Her temperature comes back fine. Dani tries to best to steady her stance. You're fine. You're fine. He's gonna see what you are. Accept it.
"Hold your arm out, please, ma'am."
Dani lifts up the arm closest to Hoffmann, letting the doctor wrap it in whatever meter they use to measure blood pressure. Not the arm that has her tattoo; if he was to see it, would he know what it means? She stares ahead, trying to stay as calm as she can. She steals a glance at his face, waiting to see his reaction when the results come forward.
Dr. Hoffmann's expression shifts slightly when he sees the reading. A small change, but she saw it. "Quite low," he says. He sounds a little disquieted. "Are you sure you are feeling okay today?"
"As well as I get." Dani responds, meeting his eyes. Brown eyes, warm. And if I pass out now, at least I'm at the doc's, right?
Dr. Hoffman gives her the tiniest of nods, and Dani feels a pang of guilt. He's just trying to do his job. She truly is the enemy of any well-meaning doctor; her surroundings may change, but some things stay the same. But her remorse fades when Dr. Hoffmann attempts to do the next part of his task. Dani waits patiently as the doctor reads over his scripture, and he says in a quiet voice, "Um... I need to get your weight. But... I need you to face away from the scale. Please."
Dani smirks. "Certainly."
She is used to this. She is used to being kept in the unknown. Not knowing what is going on with her own body, her own vessel, her own birthright. The doctors tell her what to do and she jumps through their hoops, aiming to please. Otherwise, it just goes far harder for her. It's better to be upfront and honest, or she risks more unpleasant issues down the line. Only with Sokol was she even somewhat transparent. Not that she won't risk a little lying along the way, though, especially now. After all, it's only habit.
Facing away from the magic number, she takes a deep breath, and steps onto the scale.
Then the unexpected happens. Dr. Hoffmann says in a soft voice, "Thank you. That was very brave."
Dani pauses, staring at the wall. That's not part of the sacred verse. No one has ever called her brave before. Not in this context, at least. Now tongue-tied herself, she stares at her hands, wondering why she ruined one of her sleeves.
"Daniella," the doctor says. She turns to look at him, getting her own reading of her new doctor. He is a tall man, slight-framed, with a soft mop of light brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and a moustache that seemed to be his most prominent feature. It seems to suit him, though. Makes her think of the seventies. "I understand you inherited the Wright Farm."
"That's the one." She responds, still taking him in. He isn't so bad, as far as doctors go. She's met far worse. "I still have yet to think of a better name. It's hard to call it 'Wright Farm' when things go wrong."
His moustache tilts upwards at the corners, and sure enough, Dani is smiling too. The first real one since she stepped into the Pelican Town Clinic.
"Um... Taking in your medical history... Are you sure this is the safest thing you should be doing right now?"
Ah yes, that's the doctor talk she's used to. Sokol has told her pretty much the same thing, but with much less nuance and much more frustration. Suddenly Dani feels her mood plummeting. "As opposed to what?"
Dr. Harvey clears his throat. "Well... Your vitals aren't looking too much better from the last time they were taken. You last had them checked by, a-"
"Dr. Sokolowski, that's right." Dani focuses on his face, hoping that he'll meet her eyes again.
He nods, but keeps his sights trained on his papers. "You were last inpatient at the Zuzu Central Hospital four years ago, yes?"
Why do doctors ask questions that they already know the answer to? "Yes," Dani responds, her voice tense. "I've been working on myself ever since. I am in a much better place now."
Dr. Harvey finally looks up at her. But now it's Dani who is avoiding the stare. "I believe you. But please be aware of how taxing that the physical labors of farm work can be. I understand that Dr. Sokolow... Um, I understand that your previous medical practitioner didn't request any outpatient supervision following your last appointment. But based on your history, I would advise that you take it slow and steady. And if you are ever feeling lightheaded, please come see me."
Dani tries to give him a convincing nod. "Of course."
"Have you been feeling lightheaded at all, recently?"
"No." Straight expression, all of the muscles in her face relaxed. Practiced and perfected.
"Have you been doing your best to stick to a meal plan? I'm not sure what your former medical practitioner recommended for the future, especially since you've only just moved here. I know that it can be a bit harder to adhere to a rigid plan in the valley, but I am sure you can find the same or very similar products at the JojaMart in Pelican Town."
"Don't worry about it, Doc." Dani mutters, staring at her hands. She attempts to resist the overwhelming temptation to shred the rest of her sleeve, all the way up to her shoulder. "Fresh air and farming, forests and freedom. I have never been better."
A moment of uneasy silence. And then Dr. Hoffmann says, "Is there any way I can convince you to schedule another appointment here next month?"
"What? Why?" Dani jerks her head back up. These visits were typically once every three months when she still lived in Zuzu City. She only saw Dr. Sokol that frequently when she was at her worst in her teenage years.
"In order to ensure that you're gaining weight. Your current meal plan may not be enough to sustain someone with your energy output. And if that's the case, we can make adjustments."
"My weight isn't as low as it used to be, though. I've made progress." She cannot keep the desperate edge out of her voice. She thinks of the photograph hidden away in her wallet and thinks, you want progress? I can show you true progress.
"I know, but you still haven't reached the goal. You're still a bit under..." underweight, she muses to herself, finishing the end of his sentence. A small shiver of thrill runs through her. "Well, you are nearly there, but with the changes in your lifestyle to come, it is better to be safe than sorry. I can see that you are trying. But this is what I am recommending, as a medical professional. I would not worry if I thought that what you are doing is particularly safe. So, please, will you come again next month?"
That feeling of frustration, of helplessness, returns to Dani, and she simply stares straight at the floor, not knowing what to do. A caged critter in a steel crate, resisting the temptation to snarl and fight back. But there doesn't seem to be any way out of this, not if she wants to continue the way she is living. Comply and it will go easier. It always does.
She looks up to see Dr. Hoffmann staring at her, awaiting her answer. Right away, Dani realizes that he isn't going to be easily fooled. She finally gives him a nod, and he looks visibly relieved. The polite smile returns to his face. "And if there is anything you need before then, please, don't hesitate to give me a call. I have left the clinic's number along with your report."
That was as painless as they come, she has to admit. She stands up, letting the strings from the end of her sleeve run seamlessly through her fingers. Dr. Hoffmann hands her the form to take home with her, and even just at a glance, his penmanship is easy to read, unlike the typical illegible scribble she has come to expect from most doctors.
Dr. Hoffmann opens the door for her, and she steps forward towards the hallway of the clinic, her thoughts all a jumble. There is much to think about, much to be done, and she couldn't get out of this building fast enough. "Thanks," she murmurs, not looking back.
"Oh, and Daniella?"
"Yeah?"
"Happy belated birthday." The door shuts tightly behind her.
(A/N: Hello and good day!
Man, do I love all of the different weapons in Stardew. The Forest Sword was always my favorite. How come the slingshots are so impossible to use? Question for the philosophers, I suppose.
Remember when I posted the first chapter and I said I had twelve chapters done? Well, lol, that has remained stagnant. I'm sorry. I'll get to writing soon, but it's been difficult lately. I think my best course of action is to accept that Hemingway wasn't right about everything.
I'll keep on editing the chapters that I have already written. Hopefully I can get the next chapter up by next Wednesday.
Thanks for stopping by! I'd offer you a cup of coffee on me, but you're likely not in my domain and I can only drive so far.)
This chapter's song lyric is brought to you by Flagpole Sitta - Harvey Danger. You know the song, I know the song. It's a good song. Plus, their band name has "Harvey" in it, so it's only fitting for this chapter. The best part about growing up is that I am now incapable of feeling shame.