...Dickinson POV…
Being a man is not easy. I giggled as I looked at her slanted masculine eyebrows.
The waiter arrived at our table with the bill. Emile and I had been arguing good-naturedly throughout the meal about who would pay the check, but now that it was actually in front of us, I was starting to regret my bravado.
"I'll get this one," I said, reaching for my wallet.
"No, no," Emile said, waving his hand. "I insist. You paid last time."
"But you always pay," I countered.
"It's my treat," Emile said with a smile.
I opened my mouth to protest, but then I remembered that all of my cards were in my other jacket, which I had left at home. I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck as I realized that Emile was going to have to pay after all.
I could see the smirk on Emile's face as he pulled out my card and handed it to the waiter. But then, something strange happened. Emile's smile faltered, and his hand trembled as he tried to enter his pin code.
"I'm sorry," Emile said, stepping back from the machine. "I don't know the password for this card. You'll have to pay, Dickinson."
I could feel the eyes of the other diners on us, and I could hear the cashier muttering something about "weird pairs." I stepped forward and punched in the pin feeling a sense of regained pride wash over me as the transaction went through.
As we left the restaurant, the men from the table we had been sitting next to waved goodbye to us. I could see the confusion on their faces as we walked out together, and I couldn't blame them. Emile and I were an odd pair, with our vastly different backgrounds and personalities.
I could feel my eyebrows furrowing in frustration as we made our way to the door. I didn't like feeling indebted to anyone, especially not someone like Emile, who seemed to take pleasure in these kinds of power plays.
But then, Emile turned to me with a smile, and I could see the genuine warmth in his eyes.
"Thanks for picking up the check," he said. "I really appreciate it."
I felt a strange sense of camaraderie with Emile at that moment. Despite our differences, we were both just trying to get by in this world, trying to find our place in it.
I waved goodbye to Emile as we went our separate ways.
I pulled up by the hospital and came down from the cab, feeling a sense of unease settle in the pit of my stomach. I walked on in, kicking a few pebbles on the sidewalk as I made my way to the entrance. The hospital was bustling with activity today, and I could feel the tension in the air. There were people rushing around, doctors and nurses moving quickly from room to room, and anxious families waiting for news.
As I entered the hospital, I couldn't help but pick up bits and pieces of information from the conversations around me. There had been an accident, it seemed, and there had been a case of an auto crash. My heart sank at the thought of the pain and suffering that had taken place.
I made my way to the front desk, where a tired-looking nurse greeted me. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice low and subdued.
I am here on an appointment with Dr Jones, I said as I handed my card to the nurse. She looked at it and then backed up at me. "Your number is 54," she said, her voice monotone.
I took the card from her and looked around the crowded waiting room. There were people everywhere, sitting in chairs or standing against walls, all waiting to be seen by a doctor. I sighed and made my way over to an empty chair, where I sat down and waited.
As I waited, I noticed a young woman sitting next to me, holding a one-year-old child on her lap. The child was fussy and crying, and the woman looked exhausted.
"Is she okay?" I asked, nodding toward the child.
The woman looked up at me and smiled weakly. "She's fine, just a little tired and cranky. We've been waiting here for hours."
I nodded sympathetically. "I know how you feel. I've been here for a while myself."
We fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in our own thoughts as we waited for our turn to be seen. The child continued to cry, and I could see the exhaustion on the woman's face.
"Here," I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out a small stuffed animal. "Maybe this will help her feel better."
The woman looked at me in surprise, then smiled gratefully and took the toy. "Thank you so much. That's very kind of you."
I smiled back at her. "It's nothing. I remember how hard it was when my own kids were little. You could use all the help you can get."
We continued to talk, sharing stories about our families and commiserating about the long wait. Her number was thirty two and she was called up.
We said goodbye and I watched walked out of Waiting with her baby in hand.
I crossed my legs and glanced at my watch, impatiently tapping my foot on the ground. Half an hour had passed, and I was still waiting for my turn to be seen by a doctor. I was never a fan of patience, and this situation was certainly not helping.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, trying to distract myself by people-watching. I watched as patients were called, one by one, to go see their doctors. It seemed like an eternity before my number was finally called.
I stood up, adjusting my shirt and grabbing my bag, and made my way towards the exam room. But before I could reach it, I heard a voice call out my name.
"Hi, Emile," Dr. Jones said, approaching me with a smile.
I turned to face him, a bit surprised. "Good afternoon, Dr. Jones," I replied, returning the smile. "I was just going to get a document. When I saw you, how long have you been here?"
"Just half an hour," I replied, my impatience clear in my voice.
Dr. Jones nodded sympathetically. "I understand. It can be frustrating to wait, but it's necessary to ensure that everyone gets the care they need."
I sighed, knowing he was right. "I know, but I just don't have the patience for it."
Dr. Jones chuckled. "Well, luckily for you, I have an alternative solution. Follow me."
Dr. Jones led me down a long hallway, away from the busy waiting room, and into his office. The cozy space was a welcome change from the sterile atmosphere of the hospital, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I sank into one of the comfortable chairs.
As he shut the door behind us, Dr. Jones turned to me with a kind smile. "So, Emile, let's take a look at what's been going on. How have you been feeling lately?"
I smiled back at him, feeling excited and nervous all at once. "Actually, I'm pregnant," I said, my hand instinctively moving to rest on my belly.
Dr. Jones grinned in delight. "Congratulations! That's wonderful news. How far along are you?"
"I think about six weeks," I replied, feeling a surge of joy at the thought of my growing baby.
"Alright, let's go ahead and do an ultrasound then," Dr. Jones said, standing up and grabbing some supplies from a nearby cabinet. "You'll need to change into this gown over here first."
He handed me a thin, blue hospital gown and motioned towards a small changing area in the corner of the room. I quickly changed and laid back on the exam table, feeling a bit nervous but mostly just excited to see my little one on the screen.
As the ultrasound machine beeped and whirred, Dr. Jones applied a warm gel to my abdomen and began to move the wand around. "There we go," he said after a moment, pointing to a small, flickering image on the screen. "That's your baby's heartbeat." He said as he leaned on a table and folded his arms his eyes locked on the screen and beamed a smile.
I gasped in amazement, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Oh my god," I whispered, reaching out to touch the screen even though I knew I couldn't. The joy and the happiness I felt was beyond bounds.
This whole body swap thing might not have been a completely bad idea. If I was in my body I would still feel overjoyed but I doubt it would have been so intense.
Dr. Jones smiled at my reaction. "Looks like everything is measuring right on track," he said, pointing out various structures and features on the screen. "And here's the head, and the arms, and the legs..."