The Love In Our Lungs

Chapter 3

While my mother takes forever in the bathroom, I remain stressed sitting on a chair near the cafeteria of the hospital waiting impatiently for her to come back, because as much as I love being alone, I can't stand it at this very moment. The tapping of my foot becomes much faster, and my breath quickens. If it weren't for the green-eyed guy that has a look of worry written all over his face, I would've had a panic attack. I feel overwhelmed by his worry and concern. He probably works here I thought. I'm not shocked that I almost fainted in front of this person, who can I blame rather than myself for having trust issues? Not my mom that's for sure, but maybe all those words that I let get to me all those years ago.

"Are you alright?" I nod at him, but he probably doesn't get the hint that I like to be left alone. Why would he be concerned for my well-being when probably not even this new doctor I'm seeing cares about me? I lick my lips waiting for him to leave, but he stays there. Does he expect me to talk?

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and not about to have a panic attack."

"It's okay, no need to worry," I replied. He makes me curious but in a good way. I still remember every time my mother would tell me "curiosity killed the cat", and I would simply roll my eyes at her remark. People die in horror movies because curiosity gets the best of them. This is real life. No such thing would happen unless I was a detective deciphering the murder of a housewife that was simply trying to do her job.

"I'm Dylan just so you know," after I introduced myself the question that has been clawing at my throat comes out sounding more like a statement than a question. I hope he doesn't find me intimidating. Who am I kidding? I bet no one in this hospital would be intimidated by a socially awkward girl.

"So I guess you work here?"

"It's pretty obvious, but yeah," well, he took my harsh remark decently, rather I was battling myself with anxiety because I was worried it would sound too rude.

"First day?" I question.

"Yep, that's why I'm not dressed like every other boring person in this place," his enthusiasm makes me crack up with a smile followed by a laugh.

"We are quite unique Olivia."

As time went by my stress diminished but came back the instant my mother gestured for me to go with her to what I assumed was the room I would be going to for who knows how long. I sent Dylan a quick wave to say "goodbye" to him, or maybe even a "later." Soon enough I was standing in front of a light gray wall that had what I assumed was the doctor's last name written on it. Gahn. My mother knocks on the door, and although the hospital is looking busy, many people are talking of most likely patients showing their pity for them, or even talking disrespectfully about them behind their backs. I can only manage to hear my fast heartbeats when the door opens, and we are greeted by a man with blue eyes, and hair darker than a miner's cloth after searching mines for an endless amount of coal.

We enter the room, and I'm greeted with white walls that are all too familiar to me. What is it with hospitals to have white everywhere? The color may as well represent some form of formality. I guess I'll probably never find out. The room gives me a cozy feeling once I spot the white couch that lays on a corner with a glass that allows sunlight to enter the office. The doctor greets us and gestures for us to sit on the couch.

"I'm Alya Sabey, and this is Olivia," I hear my mother say. They greet each other, but I can't catch the doctor's name because my focus is set on my thoughts. The man is sitting at a black desk with thousands of folders, mine in his hands. Meanwhile, he is scanning the pages of information on past medication, and vaccinations I have received, I take my time to look at him, and when I do I first glance at his furrowed eyebrows that show how concentrated he is, as well as his eyes that are a darker blue rather than the almost green in my mother's. The room has white cabinets with what I assume have medicine in them. I'm no longer stressed but rather intrigued. My mind is processing the possibilities as to how this appointment could possibly go. To deep into my thoughts I don't notice the voice of my new doctor talking.