Wendy

Chapter 22: You Again

Margret ignored her phone when she heard it buzz again. Sighing heavily, she stood from her chair behind her desk and did a few stretches. Her legs felt sore and a bit cramped. How long had she been sitting? When she checked the clock on her desk, she winced. It was three in the afternoon.

You can't run away from your life, a part of her scolded.

Margret ignored the admonition as she walked to the water dispenser at the far corner of her consulting room. She had been working since the afternoon before, trying desperately to drown out the sound of screeching tires with the sound of her little patients. Why she felt one could drown out the other was beyond her.

Pick your call. Rose is a good person, don't push her away. A soft voice whispered at the back of her mind.

Margret shook her head in a bid to expel the voice. Though the voice was more appealing than those that screamed at her sometimes, she still didn't want to hear it. She liked Rose a lot but she couldn't help believing she was a danger to the woman.

As Margret gulped the chilled water, she stared at the framed pictures of her deceased daughter. The frame was shaped as a cube, each part showing her daughter in different cute poses.

The pain still felt raw. Therapy only gave her tips to manage her grief but they didn't give her the will to move on. A part of her was simply determined to hold on to the pain.

She had placed those pictures of Wendy there intentionally, it was a reminder of her carelessness. A lifetime of self-loathing wouldn't help in assuaging her guilt but it was something.

When Margret heard a sharp rap at the door, she dragged her eyes from her daughter's smiling face. A porter poked his head into her office with a slight smile on his face. What was his name again? Duke...David? When nothing came, she just stared at him with a hard expression on her face. The young man's smile instantly vanished.

"Erhhh...Dr. Michael had a family emergency, he asked me to 'beg' you to attend to his last patient." The porter waved the patient's file to prove his point.

Margret frowned. She was about to tell him her shift ended exactly two minutes ago when she recalled how the other doctor had helped out in her time of absence. She bit her tongue before nodding.

Margret dragged her aching feet to her upholster chair. "Okay, send them in," she said with an exhausted smile. The porter quickly dropped the file on her desk before rushing out.

"Just one more and I'm through... just one more," She mumbled under her breath as she stared at the patient file.

When she heard her phone buzz again, she glanced at the device to see who the caller was.

Rose.

Margret couldn't get herself to pick the call. She felt like a bag of bad luck. It was almost as if anyone she came close to had to get dipped in disaster. She liked Rose enough to stay away from her; she didn't want anything bad to happen to the woman. The last time they hung out was still engraved in her mind.

Sighing warily, Margret switched off the phone immediately it stopped buzzing. When she focused on the file on her desk, she let out a groan.

"Shit." He had to come around when she looked and felt like a hurricane survivor.

..............................

Ken hummed under his breath as he tried hard to stifle the feeling of impatience. He had been waiting for nearly, what? An hour? And to think the hospital was privately owned.

"Little man, stop playing with those plants." Ken called out as he saw his son pluck away at some poor decorative plant.
Bodunde looked up from the bunch of mutilated leaves clutched in his hand then at his father.

"But I like the leaves, want to play with them," Bodunde said with dark brown eyes shinning with innocence. He watched his son turn back to the leaves and resume his plucking frenzy. Ken was not ready for this.

"Stop it and come sit down." He made sure to make his voice sound sharp enough. In no time, the boy came rushing back with a subdued look on his face. Ken lifted him to his seat next to him and tried hard not to freak out at the boy's high temperature. His nose was running and tiny beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"We are to see a doctor and not kill innocent plants, okay?"

"Okay," Bodunde said miserably in-between sniffs.

Taking his son's little hands in his much larger one, Ken removed the leaves he held and used his handkerchief to wipe the green grime from his palms.

"True super heroes don't go about fighting plants except they're mutated villains." Ken said with mock seriousness.

"I want to fight them. Where are they, daddy? Are they here?" Bodunde asked eagerly as he bounced on his seat in anticipation.

"They aren't here," Ken said in 'duh' tone. "They are in the TV at home. If you behave yourself throughout our little visit with the doctor, I'll watch Ben 10 with you when we return. Deal?" Ken asked with an outstretched hand.

Bodunde sniffed then wiped his running nose with his palm before shaking his hand.

"Deal," He repeated, slapping his catarrh smeared hand on Ken's palm and blessing him with a toothy grin.

Great, I guess that seals it more. Ken wiped his hand and son's nose with another hanky. Good thing he always had extra of those.

"Mr. Kenneth Deji?"
Ken looked up as he heard his name.

At last, he sighed.

"Yes, that's me," Ken said as he grasped his son's small hand and stood.

"Please come with me," The lanky porter said then led them down a brightly painted corridor.

Ken had to literally wrestle his son away from the walls. How was he to explain to a four year old that the walls of a hospital was not something to trail one's fingers across? What made it harder to keep Bodunde away were the cartoon characters painted on them.

"Second to the last door," the young man said and turned to leave.

As the porter walked away, Ken resorted to carrying Bodunde in order to prevent him from trying Spiderman stunts against the wall. Apparently, his son believed he had super powers. He groaned in frustration as his son wiggled his little frame in his arms. Where did the boy get his energy from? Wasn't he supposed to be ill?

As Ken knocked and pushed the door open, he prayed his son wouldn't be diagnosed with something nasty.

When Ken stepped into the spacious consulting room, he didn't expect to see a familiar face. He couldn't stop himself from smiling when the pretty pediatrician's eyes met his.

Wow, what are the odds? Ken thought in pleasant surprise.

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Hello people,
What do you think of Ken's son? I tell you, toddlers can be such bundles of pure energy (gets really tiring). 😧

I really hope you liked this chapter. Votes and comments would be like Olympic medals right now *wink*😉
Love you lovelies. 😚❤

P.S. the picture attached is Margret.