A Prescription for Love ~ Chapter One

New Story: This is different from the norm. In all of the stories that I’ve read or that I’ve seen, all of the characters are disgustingly perfect unless they are written with very clear flaws. This story is about love (um, duh! Look who’s writing it. I’m the queen of romance), and finding it in the least likely place with the least likely person.

Now, this story is based in a hospital. My medical training comes from…WebMD. I’m not a doctor, nor do I claim to be. I’m a music teacher who has a wild imagination and a penchant for all things Twilight. Which brings me to my disclaimer: None of this is mine. I’m not, nor ever will be, Stephenie Meyer. If was, I’d be rolling in the dough from her insane imagination that gave us Bella and Edward. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter One

BPOV

“Here’s your extra pillow, Mr. Tomlinson,” I said as I fluffed it behind his head. “Is that comfortable?”

“You’re a lard ass,” he snapped. “Go on a diet.”

“I’ll take that into consideration, Mr. Tomlinson,” I said, ignoring the biting comment from our resident crazy man. He was found on the streets, mumbling that the rats were eating his eyeballs and that his shoes ran away. The police brought him in and he was staying in the ER until a bed opened up in the psych ward. I got the dubious honor of getting Mr. Tomlinson as my patient. That meant I had to wash his crusty old body and listen to his demeaning commentary about everybody in the ER. The main person receiving his barbs was me. Yes, I was, um, plump, but I wasn’t unhealthy. I was just fat. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Always thinking with your stomach, tubbo?”

“Mr. Tomlinson, please be respectful,” I sighed. “I didn’t make any comments about your hemorrhoids when I was cleaning your ass.”

“Bitch,” he barked. I rolled my eyes and shut his curtain, walking to the circulation desk.

“Tomlinson is being extra crotchety today,” my friend, Angela noted. “Really rude to you.”

“He’s a lonely old man with schizophrenia. I try not to take his words to heart,” I shrugged. “However, I will be happy when his scabby ass is upstairs in the psych ward.”

“How bad was it?” Angela asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I need a shower. Or twelve,” I shuddered. “These were not the scrubs I arrived in, Ang.”

“Yeah, they’re not your usual happy duckie scrubs,” Angela teased. “It’s standard hospital blue.”

“He shit on me,” I groaned. “Anyhow, I’m going to finish charting and then I’m heading home.”

“Bella, why don’t you come out with me and the girls,” Angela begged. “We’re going to this new club. It’ll be fun!”

“No, thanks. I have to get home to my dad. He’s still laid up from his injury,” I sighed. Honestly, I’d rather go out with the girls. My father makes Mr. Tomlinson look like a kitten. The hatred my father has for me is shocking but I couldn’t leave him. Not now. He lost his leg after a bullet wound got infected and he wasn’t coping. And he was taking it out on me.

“Fine. But next time, I’m not taking no for an answer. You hear me?” Angela asked, arching a brow.

“Yes, Ang. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I smiled. She waved and skipped to the lounge at the end of the hall. I finished making my notes, speaking to the nurse who was taking over my patients and walked to my locker. 

Opening it up, I slipped on my coat and checked my phone.

No messages.

But then again, why would there be. All of my friends are here at work. Well, scratch that, Angela is my friend. The rest are acquaintances. With a heavy sigh, I bundled up and headed out into the chilled Chicago air. I worked at Cook County Hospital as a nurse. I earned my nursing degree while working full time since my dad wouldn’t pay for my college education. I worked as a nurse’s aide in a nursing home, caring for elderly patients in the dementia wing while I completed my course work. I hated working there; seeing those poor people who were just shells of who they once were. I made the decision that I would not work in geriatrics once I got my degree, finding the time in the ER to be the most exciting and challenging.

You never know what’s going to come in next and sometimes, the puzzle of what was wrong was the most interesting part of working there. For the most part, the doctors were okay. There were a few that I hated, Dr. Mike Newton and Dr. Tyler Crowley, in particular. No matter who the nurse was, if they were female, they made crass and rude comments. Numerous complaints were made about them to HR but they still did it since it was a ‘good old boys’ club at the hospital.

I heaved a sigh and thought about my last run-in with Newton. God, he was such a snake.

“Bella, can you be a dear and get me a few samples of Cialis for Mr. Lautner? He wants to extend his prowess in the bedroom,” Mike purred. “Right, Mr. Lautner?”

“Yes, sir,” he smiled.

“I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve been with a man, Bella. Perhaps you can help Mr. Lautner in trying out his new medication,” Mike snickered. “But, probably not. With your broken arm, you don’t want to do any heavy lifting and Nurse Swan would be classified as that.”

“Anything else, Dr. Newton?” I spat, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Nope. Just the samples, sweet cheeks,” he bellowed. I huffed and stomped away, going to the drug locker. I swiped a handful of Cialis samples, stuffed them into a bag and thrust them into Mr. Lautner’s hands.

When Dr. Newton was on the job, I steered clear of him after that incident. He was a tool and he made me feel small. Thankfully, he was at a medical conference for a few days and I wouldn’t have to see his smug face while I worked.

With a resigned sigh, I walked up to the el platform and waited for the next train to take me home. I pulled out my book as I sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chairs. The train traveled to my home in the Ravenswood neighborhood. Our tiny two bedroom apartment that I shared with my dad. I stomped up the stairs and unlocked the door to our home and was blasted with the sounds of Sports Center.

“Where the hell have you been, Isabella?” Charlie demanded. “I’ve been waiting here for an hour to eat.”

“Sorry, Dad. I had to work. You knew this,” I sighed. “Give me a half hour and I’ll have dinner ready for you, okay?”

“Isabella, I’m hungry now,” he snarled.

“You know, you could cook your own meal, Dad,” I said as I leaned forward against the wall, pressing my face against the plaster. “Just because you’re on crutches doesn’t mean that you’re completely incapable of cooking.”

“Watch your tone, missy!” Charlie glowered. “My leg fucking hurts. If it wasn’t for your incompetence, I’d still fucking have it.”

There was no fighting him when he was like this. He would not see reason. I stripped off my coat and hung it up. I walked into the pathetic kitchen and searched for something that I could feed Charlie within three minutes or less. Thankfully, there was a frozen mini pizza that I could pop in the microwave. I grabbed a beer for him and swiped his medication from the cabinet. As he bellowed in the living room, I readied his dinner and put it all on a tray. I carried the tray and put it on the small table next to my dad’s recliner. Pushing it to him, I glared at my father as he continued to rant and rave about how I was a lazy ass.

“Enough,” I snapped. “I get it. I’m fat, lazy and incapable of taking care of you. If you hate me so much, why don’t you let me leave?”

“Because, you insolent brat, despite your crappy job of taking care of me, you’re all I’ve got,” he snarled. “Go do some jazzercise or something. Lose some of those disgusting rolls.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” I spat. “You’re one to talk.” He had put on a ton of weight because of his injury. Prior to his getting shot, he was in pretty decent shape, for a middle-aged cop. Now he was fatter than me because he refused to do his physical therapy. His non-existent leg hurt too much.

Charlie picked up his pizza and threw it at me, splattering it on my scrubs. I narrowed my eyes and walked out of the room. I ignored Charlie’s screams for fresh food. I stripped out of my scrubs and showered in our tiny, dingy bathroom. As I washed my body, I was disgusted at what I saw. My pale skin was lumpy and dumpy. I was fat. No denying it, but hearing it come from the one person who is supposed to  love me hurts more. My mom can’t tell me that she loves me or that I’m beautiful since she’s dead. She passed when I was in high school from a car accident. Her car hit a patch of black ice and she flipped into oncoming traffic. She was decapitated and killed instantly. Once she died, my dad turned into a douche and I found solace in Twinkies and Ho-Hos.

I finished my shower and dried my body, wrapping the bath sheet around me. I put on my favorite pajamas and walked into my bedroom, closing and locking the door. I didn’t want to deal with Charlie anymore tonight. He acted like a brat and he has to deal with his actions. I pulled out my journal and began writing in it.

December 15^th, 2012

Have you ever woke up and looked around and asked yourself, how in the hell did I get here? Today was one of those days for me. I woke up in my bedroom, still decorated in pink roses from when I was a kid and I shook my head at how pathetic my life is. I’m thirty years old (just turned in September) and I still live with asshole father. I’m thirty years old and I’m still single with no prospects.

Not that anyone would want me anyway.

I’m a fucking fat ass.

Who would want to see this body without clothes?

I mean, it happened one time and that guy NEVER came back.

Then, at work today, I get stuck with one of our frequent flyers and he shits on me. A huge heaping pile of crap onto my thigh. It was foul and all I wanted to do was shower for days. He continues to rag on me all day, calling me fat and stupid and I couldn’t do anything but smile. He’s my patient and well, it would look bad if I gave him a black eye. I mean, he’s a cantankerous son of a bitch but he’s sick: schizophrenia and dementia.

Finally, I get home from a crap-tastic day at work and my dad is in rare form. He’s such a douche and he makes me feel like I’m less than nothing. I hate him. But, I can’t leave him. I should, but I can’t. I want to go out with my friends and drink and have a good time. But no. I have to come home and deal with Charlie and his childish tantrums when I don’t cook him what he likes or take his insults without fighting back.

I desperately want to change. I desperately want love but have resigned myself that it’ll never happen.

Not at this rate.

xx APFL xx

“Have you seen the new attending?” Jessica Stanley gushed. “Holy sex on a stick, he’s hot.”

“Who is that?” I asked as I stared my co-worker. Jessica was one of the slut sisters. Her partner in crime was Lauren Mallory. There was no man in the hospital that they hadn’t fucked.

“His name is Dr. Edward Cullen and my GOD!” Jessica panted out, fanning her blond curls. “He’s going to be working the ER and he’s mine.”

“What makes him so hot?” I asked, arching a brow.

“He’s 6’2”, muscled with bronze-y, coppery, brownish hair and eyes that are the color of emeralds. AND he’s single.”

“Who’s single?” asked Lauren as she dropped of her chart, leaning against the counter. “Swan? Of course she’s single. Look at her.”

“I’m standing right here, Lauren,” I seethed.

“Sorry,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “Seriously, who’s single?”

“Dr. Cullen,” Jessica giggled.

“He is?” Lauren purred.

“Back off, bitch. He’s mine,” Jessica scoffed. “Once I’m done with him then you can pounce all over the deliciousness that is Dr. Cullen. Dr. Feelgood.”

“You know, relationships between nurses and doctors is highly frowned upon,” I said as I glared at them.

“So?” Jessica snorted. “I want to nab me a rich doctor and this is where I’m going to find it.”

“Excuse me,” came a velvety smooth voice. “Who is assigned to the patient in curtain three? Bed number two?”

“That’s me,” I said as I turned around and holy GOD. There was an angel in a white lab coat standing in front of me. He wore a pair of adorable glasses but his eyes were glittering behind them in a bright green. 

This is Dr. Cullen? He’s not a doctor! He’s a damn super model.

“And you are?” he asked, smiling softly.

“Isabella Swan, but everyone calls me Bella,” I replied, holding out my hand.

“More like Belly,” Lauren snickered.

I flinched and felt traitorous tears prick the back of my eyes. Dr. Cullen’s hand wrapped around mine and he smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bella. I’m Dr. Edward Cullen.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “What’s wrong with Ms. Dutch?”

“Can we chat as we walk to her?” he said as he pulled on my hand. I grabbed her chart and followed him down the hallway to curtain area three.

“Did I do something wrong, Dr. Cullen?” I asked, frowning slightly.

“No, Bella. I just wanted to get you away from Nurse Stanley and Nurse Mallory. I heard they said and I’m appalled,” he said as he looked at me with kind eyes.

“I’m fine, Dr. Cullen,” I said as I waved my hand dismissively.

“Please, call me Edward,” he replied with a crooked grin.

“Edward,” I whispered, trying it out. “Okay. So, Ms. Dutch?”

“Can you add some antibiotics to her IV drip? She’s running a fever and her white cell count is elevated. I heard rattles when I listened to her lungs and I don’t want the infection to turn into pneumonia,” he said as he reached for the chart. He scribbled down his orders and handed the chart back to me. “Now, seeing as I’m new, can  you direct me to a local coffee house that doesn’t serve sludge and is within walking distance?”

“Oh, um, there’s Perkalator down the street. It’s a five minute walk from here. Just go out through the ambulance bay doors, hang a right and it’ll be on the corner,” I answered. “It’s good coffee.”

“Thank you, Bella,” he said as he smiled widely. “The coffee in the cafeteria is toxic waste. When I was hired, I was warned but didn’t heed said warnings. As a token of my appreciation, what kind of coffee do you want?”

“That’s not necessary,” I blushed.

“I insist. You’re the first friendly face I’ve met and I want keep you close,” he winked. “If not, I’ll buy one of each blend.”

“Okay, okay,” I giggled. “A grande eggnog latte with no whipped cream.”

“Done,” he said. “Do I need to sign out?”

“Just tell the clerk that you’re stepping out and your estimated time for arrival,” I explained.

“Thanks!” he said as he turned on his heel. “I truly appreciate it, Bella.” He jogged down the hall, his white coat trailing behind him. I let myself smile softly as I turned into curtain area three. I checked on Ms. Dutch and wrote down her vitals. She was sleeping, a quiet wheeze filling the room. I’d have to ask Dr. Cullen, Edward, if a nebulizer treatment would benefit her. I left the room and grabbed the antibiotics that Edward had prescribed. I added them to her IV and noted the time her treatment started.

As I was finishing up with her, Ms. Dutch woke up. “Oh, Nurse Swan,” she said in a raspy voice. “Can I get some water?”

“Of course, Ms. Dutch,” I said as poured her some water and held the straw to her chapped lips.

“Please, call  me Heather,” she said. “Ms. Dutch reminds that I never found my prince charming.”

“Oh, Heather,” I giggled. “You can still meet him.” She was an older woman, probably in her mid to late 

seventies. She lived in an assisted living facility but couldn’t kick this respiratory infection. They sent her here since it was all her insurance would cover.

“Nurse Swan, I’m eighty-two. I never met my prince charming and it sure as hell ain’t going to happen now,” she chuckled. “I lived my life and I’m ready to be with my family.”

“Heather, you have family. Your niece is coming down from Milwaukee today,” I said. I spoke with her this morning when the ambulance dropped her off.

“No. My parents. My younger brother who died in Vietnam,” she sighed, looking into my eyes. “My family is waiting for me.”

“Okay, Heather,” I said as I tucked her into the bed. “Would you like another blanket?”

“Please, dearie,” she smiled.

I nodded and grabbed her a warm blanket from the heater just outside her room. I tucked it around her and smiled as I left her.  I walked back to the circulation desk and added the notes to her chart on the board. I turned to a computer and checked on several labs that were ordered to see if they were up.

Edward came back with pink cheeks and two steaming cups of coffee. “For my favorite nurse,” he said as he put the cup in front of me.

“Thank you, Dr. Cullen,” I blushed. “Where’s your coat?”

“Um, in the locker room. I didn’t realize how epically cold it was until I was halfway to Perkalator,” he chuckled, wrapping his hands around his cup of coffee. He smelled and sighed. “I’m from Seattle and it’s much warmer there than it is here.”

“Welcome to Windy City,” I said as I held up my cup. Edward chuckled and tapped his cup with mine. “Um, I’m concerned about Ms. Dutch’s breathing.”

“The wheezing?” he asked as he slipped behind me, staring at the chart that I pulled up.

“Yeah. I’m also concerned that she’s depressed,” I said.  “She said that she’s ready and her family is waiting for her.”

“I’ll have a psych consult come down but she’s old. She is probably ready to be reunited with her family,” Edward said. “Any children?”

“No. She was, um, never married,” I whispered. Fuck, I’m going to end up like her. Alone in a county hospital, praying for death.

God, quit being morbid, Bella.

I felt Edward stare at me and I hid my left hand, desperately wanting to crawl into a hole. I cannot let this beautiful creature behind me see that I’m a single, FAT, loser who lives with their emotionally abusive dad. 

“Um, do you think a nebulizer would help the wheezing?” I asked, barely raising my voice.

“Let’s get a chest x-ray first and then we’ll go from there,” Edward said as he put his hand on my shoulder, massaging my neck slightly. I bit my lip at his slightly cold hands on my neck and tried NOT to moan. He squeezed my shoulder one more time and he left. He winked as he walked down the opposite hallway. I blushed.

I ordered the chest x-ray for Ms. Dutch and went to do my rounds to check on my patients. I was nearly done when Lauren cornered me in the drug locker. “You think that that GOD would ever notice you?” she sneered. “You’re a lazy, fat, fuck with shit-colored hair and pasty skin. When  you walk, your ass jiggles and your boobs are uneven. Don’t try to flirt with him, Swan. He’s never going to want you.” She shoved me and stomped out of the drug locker.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I realized that it was true. He wouldn’t want me. Why would he?

Keep it professional, Swan. Be courteous and do your job.

I took a deep breath and left the drug locker, going to check on Ms. Dutch. When I walked into the room, Edward was in the middle of a code, pounding on her chest. I darted to the edge of the bed and looked at him. His eyes said it all, she was gone. “Time of death, 19:18,” he said as he stepped off the table. I bit my lip and walked to her side. I gently closed her eyes, covering her face with a sheet.

This is your future, Bella. Dying alone.

A/N:  And there you have it. Chapter one of A Prescription for Love. Up next will be a glimpse into Edward’s brain. How does he see our Bella? Anyhow, not a big author’s note on this one. . Also, check out my facebook group: Tufano79 Twilight Fanfiction Appreciation. We’re fun! Leave me some!