And The Winner Is...
by TheBucketWoman
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with LWD. There'd be more episodes (and probably way more drama) if I did.
Chapter Six
Part One: Derek
Derek came downstairs and walked through the living room as Marti, satisfied that he was going to eat, sat down in front of the TV, taking the remote from under Edwin's leg. Edwin was sprawled on the couch with a magazine, probably one of Derek's, he couldn't tell which. Lizzie had her nose in a paperback. Marti switched channels.
"Hey!" Edwin said.
"What the heck!" Lizzie said. "We were watching that!" Then Marti happened upon an episode of The Powerpuff Girls, and Edwin and Marti said, "Ooh!"
Lizzie rolled her eyes and went back to her book. Derek tried not to smile. He got to the kitchen and found his Dad and Nora sitting at the table looking way too serious.
"Just got off the phone with your doctor," Dad said, standing up. "We gotta go to the hospital."
What? Derek tried to say. Absolutely nothing came out.
"She was actually pretty emphatic about it," Dad said. "So come on."
Please don't make me, he thought, and gave his dad his best pleading look. Nora put her head in her hands.
"Not an option, kiddo," Dad said. "We're going to the hospital. Let's go."
He spoke to him in a voice half an octave lower than usual. He meant business. Usually Derek wasn't intimidated by this type of thing; it was a tactic. It was the voice he used when he cross-examined people. But he also knew how rarely the lawyer voice came out of his father outside the courtroom, and he also saw the worry on his father's face. He came up to where Derek was standing and tried to put an arm around him, and Derek couldn't help taking a step out of the way. He would have tried to run if he thought that he could get away with it.
His father reached for him again and this time got an arm around his shoulders and turned him around and began to march him toward the door. Both of them saw Casey in the doorway at the same time.
"What are you doing?"she asked.
"I'll explain, you two go," Nora said.
"Explain?" Derek heard Casey say as his dad was dragging him out.
Casey ran out after them before his dad had had a chance to start the car. She opened a door in the back and got in. Derek watched his father take a breath and put the key in the ignition without another word.
Part Two: Casey.
Casey was the only one who'd remembered to give Derek something to write with. She gave him the pad her mom kept by the phone in the kitchen. It had a picture of a paper grocery bag on the top, an egg carton and French bread sticking out of the top. She didn't do it on purpose, but she was really starting to feel bad that every writing pad she gave him had something cutesy on it. Hello Kitty was probably next.
You worry too much, he wrote and handed it back to her.
"I worry just enough," she replied. She noticed that George had his eyes glued to the road and he was going twenty kilometers over the speed limit.
"George," she said. "Slow down. Seriously."
"Sorry," he said, glancing at the speedometer. He slowed down for all of a minute, then the needle started to inch upward again. They were so lucky that there wasn't much traffic yet. People were due to start clogging up the highway on their way to the mall any minute now.
Both Casey and Derek let out the breath they'd been holding when he pulled into the parking structure. He nicked a pole when he tried to park. Any other day, Derek would have really enjoyed making fun of George's driving, but he didn't even seem to notice the bump—or the Jaguar that George had come within an centimeter of scraping when he opened the door.
Derek opened his door, but didn't get out right away. He took a couple of deep breaths and the second one sounded a little watery, which made her eyes water.
"Let's go," George said, from a few feet away. "Move it!" He started back toward the car.
"C'mon Derek," Casey said. She got out and stood in front of his door. He got up with supreme reluctance. She pulled him into a hug. "It'll be okay," she said into his hair. Not the most original thing she could have said, but it would have to do. As they walked to the elevator that took them to the ER, she whispered things like "You can do it," and "You're doing great," into his ear. Like a Lamaze coach. Derek, for his part, was avoiding all eye contact, but he let her hold his hand. He gave it a worried squeeze when they reached the ground floor where the ER was.
Part Three: George.
In order to get to the Emergency Room, they had to leave the parking lot elevator and cut through the hospital's main lobby, or go around to the other side of the building. George put one hand on the back of either neck and gently led the both of them inside that way.
Dr. Trent took him right away. George felt quite a bit of deja vu as he stood outside a curtained cubicle clipboard in hand, filling out paperwork as she did the preliminary exam. He overheard her standard litany of questions.
Dr. Trent: Can you swallow? (pause) okay.
Dr. Trent: Pain on a scale of 1-10? (pause) okay.
Dr. Trent: Okay say 'ah.'
Derek: (squeak)
Dr. Trent: okay.
The rest of the preliminary was more of the same. She said the word okay in such a way, that George couldn't tell if they were good okays or bad okays. If George never heard the word "okay" again, he'd be happy.
She came out.
"Gotta go up to the ENT department," she told George. A nurse wheeled Derek out. What George could see of his face (he was doing his best to cover it with one hand, the way Casey looks at horror movies, the other hand gripping the hell out of the armrest) was red, maybe a little blotchy. His eyes were closed so he didn't see George standing there.
"Meet you upstairs in a couple minutes, Der," he said. Derek nodded. "I'm gonna tell Casey what's going on," George added.
He went to the waiting area to find her. She wasn't curled in the fetal position this time, so that was a good sign, but she was sitting very stiffly with her arms crossed, fingers of her left hand tapping her right upper arm. This was a Nora-ism, reserved for family visits, especially visits from Fiona and her people. She crossed and uncrossed her legs until George walked into her field of vision.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"He's going for more tests," George said.
"Well, what did the doctor say?"
"Very little," George said. "She said the word 'okay' ninety seven times while she examined him."
"What kind of okay?" Casey asked. "Like o-kay time for a lollipop, or like okaaaaay, I'm gonna break this to you slowly?"
"Neither," George said. "Drove me crazy. Her voice was completely flat and uninflected during the 'okays'."
"I hate that!" Casey said. "But doctors do that all the time, don't they?"
"Think so," George said. "Come on; we can wait upstairs."
"I should call mom first," she said. George excused himself to go to the men's room while she called home. When he got back, he said:
"So, what'd you find out?"
"Marti's being jumpy, didn't touch lunch, Mom says. Lizzie and Edwin are okay, mainly because they were busy trying to distract her," Casey said. "Edwin apparently did something involving tater tots and his nose. Glad I wasn't there for that."
"I taught him that," George said.
"I figured," Casey said. "And according to Mom, Lizzy is right now sitting in a pile of DVDs trying to get Marti to pick something."
"There will be High School Musical from here to the end of the world," George predicted.
Part Four: Derek
"Okay," Dr. Trent said. "It's laryngitis."
Derek gave her a look of infinite scorn after she took the scope out.
I needed to be rushed to the ER for this? He wrote. I could have figured it out for myself.
"Yes," Dr. Trent said, without a trace of guilt. "I know. It's my job to rule out anything more serious. You could have had laryngitis and a polyp, or laryngitis and a cyst; shall I show you a picture of a polyp or a cyst to show you why you don't want one of those?"
He shook his head.
"Because a cyst or a polyp or even a node would mean surgical removal of same," she said. "You're gonna be pretty susceptible to these things because of the previous injury, this is why you were rushed over here."
He nodded.
"So about this job your father told me about..." she said.
Gonna quit, he wrote. Can I go home now?
"Yeah, in a couple minutes," she said. "I'm going to give you the number of the speech therapist on staff here. I want you to set up an appointment for an evaluation; get checked out by next week if they can get you in. Your voice is weakened and we want to make sure you don't reinjure it. Or else you'll be right back here again."
He nodded again.
"Now how about we find your Dad," she said beckoning him over.
They met up with Dad and Casey in the waiting area. Casey hopped off of her chair like it goosed her.
"Well?" she asked.
"What she said," Dad said.
"Seems like we got lucky for now," Dr. Trent said. "He has laryngitis, a pretty nasty case, but that's all. Mr. Venturi, you wanted to know about speech therapy, and I gave Derek the phone numbers, and I told him that I think he should go in for an evaluation as soon as his voice comes back; I'm guessing by next week. There will be no talking for a good seven days, sorry about that—"
"Um," Casey began.
"Yeah?" the doctor said.
"Forget it," Casey said, waving a dismissive hand. "Not important."
"No," Dr. Trent said, "Go ahead."
"I was wondering about what he's allowed to do," she said. "Can he go swimming? What can he eat? Can-he-kiss? How bout air conditioning?"
"Oh yeah," Dr. Trent said, smiling like she had Casey's number. "Mainly we want to limit the activities that might cause him to cough or have to clear his throat, so swimming, I'd say you wanna limit to a dip in the pool. With ear plugs and nose plugs. Not too much time completely under water and no diving. Nothing too strenuous, no lifting weights. You remember that from last time, Derek. Kissing's okay, but again, don't go nuts. Limit the dairy, try soy instead. No hot peppers. Drink lots of water. That enough for you?"
"Yeah," Casey said, a little dazed. Derek nodded. The doctor was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
What's so funny? He thought.
"Anything else we need to know?" Dad said.
"Not really," Dr. Trent said. "Everything's covered in the papers I gave Derek, but if you have any questions, call me."
"Will do," Dad said.
"And you," Dr. Trent said, turning to Derek. "As cute as I think you are, I don't wanna see you in here again under these circumstances, got it?"
He nodded, blushing a little.
"Now, might I recommend some Italian Ice?" Dr. Trent said.
"Yeah," Casey said, dreamily. Derek stifled a laugh.
"We can use some food in general," Dad said.
A few minutes later, in the car, Derek's father turned to the both of them and said: "We have a couple of errands to run, and now we're getting a late start."
"Shouldn't Derek go home to rest now?" Casey said. She sat in the back with Derek. His head was on her shoulder.
"Do you wanna go home and rest, Derek?" Dad said, looking at him through the rear view mirror.
Derek shook his head.
"Let's just hit the diner first then." Dad said. "Some chicken soup, perhaps."
"Why chicken soup?" Casey asked.
"Couldn't hurt," Dad said grinning.