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YoshiAnkoTay & Vatican Cameos
- Thread starter farewell
- Start date
farewell
thou mayest
The phone ringing made Lonnie prick her finger by accident. She sighed, jerking the little cushion away, with the threaded needle still hanging on. A tiny bead of blood welled up on the pad of her finger. Her phone almost never rang, and when it did, it was usually Miriam, who had her own distinct ringtone set so Lonnie knew without having to check who was calling. Sometimes work called, but as she was still only in her residency, it wasn't often, and it was only on days where she was actually supposed to be working. Today was her one day off per week, and she'd spent it relaxing. There had been little movement beyond the distance from her bed, to her bathroom, to her kitchen, and finally, to her couch. And there had been absolutely no changing out of pajamas, applying makeup, or making herself look presentable at all. Instead, she'd devoted her day to recreation. A few hours ago, after lunch, she'd decided to start a new project, and had gotten most way through embroidering a quote on a spare pillow, a soft, tiny mauve one that Miriam gave her a few weeks prior during a visit ("I figured you could always use something new to decorate, whenever you get the time nowadays"). On the glass coffee table in front of her couch, her phone had laid idly, softly playing music to fill the empty space of her apartment. Until it rang, that is, and startled Lonnie out of her reverie. And made her prick her finger.
Lonnie brought her finger to her mouth as she picked up her phone. At first, she was confused when she saw that the hospital was calling. It was her day off, wasn't it? Suddenly unsure, Lonnie checked the date on the calendar pinned to the wall in her kitchen. No, it was definitely her day off, and besides, if it hadn't been, wouldn't they have called her earlier? Finally, Lonnie swiped her thumb across the screen to answer the call and brought the phone to her ear.
"Dr. Royle," Lonnie said, unsure. How was she supposed to answer the phone if it was work related, but not really?
"Eilonwy," the person said, and Lonnie tensed. She recognized the voice, a nurse from her floor named Marcy. Marcy, who always politely smiled at her with pearly white teeth and said, "Good morning, Dr. Royle." Something in her voice...
"Lonnie is fine," Lonnie said. Talk faster.
"Right. Lonnie. Sorry." Marcy wasn't smiling. "Lonnie, I know today's your day off..." Spit it out. "...so I feel really bad about this... Like, especially bad..."
"Marcy." Lonnie's voice was as tight as her chest.
"Yeah, uh, I think you should get over here."
"This isn't work related, is it?" Lonnie asked, looking down at her pale red pajama pants.
"No, uh, no it's not." There was a sigh on Marcy's end. Lonnie pressed her palm to her thigh, her fingers stiffly splayed out. "Lonnie, your mother's here."
"Wh- " Lonnie started to say, but her thoughts caught up. Instead, she cradled the phone between her head and her shoulder as she started hurriedly changing out of her pajamas. Her mother obviously wasn't there to visit her eldest daughter.
"Stroke," Marcy said. Before Lonnie could ask, Marcy said, "Dr. Kearney."
Lonnie knew Dr. Kearney, but not terribly well. They'd interacted here and there in med school, and then reunited after Lonnie graduated. Now they worked within the same circles, dealing with pretty similar occupations. Except Dr. Kearney was a doctor, and Dr. Royle just a lowly neurosurgeon still in her residency. That's how she was treated, anyway - mostly by doctors, who refrained from deigning to fraternizing with the surgeons and vice versa. Then again, Lonnie didn't exactly have any friends from any area of expertise, so she supposed it didn't matter either way. She just focused on doing her best work. Although right now, her best work wasn't going to help jack shit. She just had to get her ass in gear. Fucking jeans won't -
"Lonnie?" Marcy asked. Lonnie had forgotten why she still had the phone cradled against her ear. "I'm gonna hang up now. I'll see you soon, okay?" There was some hesitation as Marcy debated on what to say while Lonnie finally yanked her jeans over her hips. "Don't - don't worry. She'll be fine." Lonnie hummed, fixed her button and zipper, murmured a thank you and hung up the phone, which she then slipped into her pocket.
It was undoubtedly getting chillier as autumn took over the country, but it wasn't yet cold enough, even though it was dark by now, for Lonnie to need anything more than a heavy sweatshirt with the name Wellesley printed across the front in big white block letters. The hospital was close enough that she could walk, but it'd take a few minutes. Lonnie, not quite looking herself at all, walked quickly, head down, mind somehow blank. The streets were empty and quiet, blissfully still, devoid of any people or cars. It made the walk a little easier on Lonnie.
Once she arrived, the hospital lights she was so used to glaring painfully and making her wince, Lonnie rushed up to the floor she knew her mother must be on - the floor Marcy called from. Had Marcy even told her what happened over the phone? Was Miriam there? Oh god, Miriam...
Lonnie rushed right up to Marcy's station, where she was tapping away on her keyboard. There wasn't much activity at this time of day, so Marcy's attention was diverted. "Marcy," Lonnie said. Marcy looked up, appraising her carefully. The conviviality wasn't there. If anything, Marcy seemed uncomfortable. The situation was strange for any two professionals, but especially with someone as aloof as Lonnie, standing there dressed as casually as ever, looking and feeling her meager 5 feet and 2 inch height. Her hair was mussed, a big puff of curls that completely surrounded her face, and Lonnie wanted to snap at Marcy for making her conscious of it.
"Where's my mother?" Lonnie asked. "Where's Dr. Kearney?"
Lonnie brought her finger to her mouth as she picked up her phone. At first, she was confused when she saw that the hospital was calling. It was her day off, wasn't it? Suddenly unsure, Lonnie checked the date on the calendar pinned to the wall in her kitchen. No, it was definitely her day off, and besides, if it hadn't been, wouldn't they have called her earlier? Finally, Lonnie swiped her thumb across the screen to answer the call and brought the phone to her ear.
"Dr. Royle," Lonnie said, unsure. How was she supposed to answer the phone if it was work related, but not really?
"Eilonwy," the person said, and Lonnie tensed. She recognized the voice, a nurse from her floor named Marcy. Marcy, who always politely smiled at her with pearly white teeth and said, "Good morning, Dr. Royle." Something in her voice...
"Lonnie is fine," Lonnie said. Talk faster.
"Right. Lonnie. Sorry." Marcy wasn't smiling. "Lonnie, I know today's your day off..." Spit it out. "...so I feel really bad about this... Like, especially bad..."
"Marcy." Lonnie's voice was as tight as her chest.
"Yeah, uh, I think you should get over here."
"This isn't work related, is it?" Lonnie asked, looking down at her pale red pajama pants.
"No, uh, no it's not." There was a sigh on Marcy's end. Lonnie pressed her palm to her thigh, her fingers stiffly splayed out. "Lonnie, your mother's here."
"Wh- " Lonnie started to say, but her thoughts caught up. Instead, she cradled the phone between her head and her shoulder as she started hurriedly changing out of her pajamas. Her mother obviously wasn't there to visit her eldest daughter.
"Stroke," Marcy said. Before Lonnie could ask, Marcy said, "Dr. Kearney."
Lonnie knew Dr. Kearney, but not terribly well. They'd interacted here and there in med school, and then reunited after Lonnie graduated. Now they worked within the same circles, dealing with pretty similar occupations. Except Dr. Kearney was a doctor, and Dr. Royle just a lowly neurosurgeon still in her residency. That's how she was treated, anyway - mostly by doctors, who refrained from deigning to fraternizing with the surgeons and vice versa. Then again, Lonnie didn't exactly have any friends from any area of expertise, so she supposed it didn't matter either way. She just focused on doing her best work. Although right now, her best work wasn't going to help jack shit. She just had to get her ass in gear. Fucking jeans won't -
"Lonnie?" Marcy asked. Lonnie had forgotten why she still had the phone cradled against her ear. "I'm gonna hang up now. I'll see you soon, okay?" There was some hesitation as Marcy debated on what to say while Lonnie finally yanked her jeans over her hips. "Don't - don't worry. She'll be fine." Lonnie hummed, fixed her button and zipper, murmured a thank you and hung up the phone, which she then slipped into her pocket.
It was undoubtedly getting chillier as autumn took over the country, but it wasn't yet cold enough, even though it was dark by now, for Lonnie to need anything more than a heavy sweatshirt with the name Wellesley printed across the front in big white block letters. The hospital was close enough that she could walk, but it'd take a few minutes. Lonnie, not quite looking herself at all, walked quickly, head down, mind somehow blank. The streets were empty and quiet, blissfully still, devoid of any people or cars. It made the walk a little easier on Lonnie.
Once she arrived, the hospital lights she was so used to glaring painfully and making her wince, Lonnie rushed up to the floor she knew her mother must be on - the floor Marcy called from. Had Marcy even told her what happened over the phone? Was Miriam there? Oh god, Miriam...
Lonnie rushed right up to Marcy's station, where she was tapping away on her keyboard. There wasn't much activity at this time of day, so Marcy's attention was diverted. "Marcy," Lonnie said. Marcy looked up, appraising her carefully. The conviviality wasn't there. If anything, Marcy seemed uncomfortable. The situation was strange for any two professionals, but especially with someone as aloof as Lonnie, standing there dressed as casually as ever, looking and feeling her meager 5 feet and 2 inch height. Her hair was mussed, a big puff of curls that completely surrounded her face, and Lonnie wanted to snap at Marcy for making her conscious of it.
"Where's my mother?" Lonnie asked. "Where's Dr. Kearney?"
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