[prp] curriculum vitae (leila + ezra)

[cibarium]

Ashdown's hospital had a decent physical/occupational therapy wing, and although Leila didn't have much of a reason herself to be there, her wife did. So she sat in the waiting area, as was the routine. There was a double-stapled document open on her lap with some notes in the margins in her small, even handwriting.

Her pen had been tucked away behind her ear for the moment as she adjusted her hair (again. Leila had kept messing with it on and off all day). While she slowly pulled and twisted it into a simple bun, the rest of her attention lingered over a list of publications.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

Ezra's familiar voice drifted over to Leila. "I don't care, Risha," he said. "Can I grip a cello? Yes? Then that's all I need. I would like to focus on my hands." His tone was loud and strident and generally just--he was not being a pleasant person, clearly. No one was pleasant after physical therapy, but this was taking it kind of far.

The therapist spotted Leila and lit up. "Dr. Townhome," she said, lifting a hand, "If I could bother you for a second? Your son and I are having a difference of opinion, and perhaps a third opinion would help settle the matter?"

cibarium

 

[cibarium]

Hearing Dr. Townhome and your son and opinion sent a shock through Leila's spine that made her drop all her hair, and when she stood up her paper fluttered to the ground in front of her. She had become the bumbling professor stereotype in half a second and a part of her was acutely aware of it as the rest of her frantically swam its back way to reality.

"Hi," she said. Smoothing her hair back behind her, she continued, "Um," and then her arms dropped to her sides. "Sure?"

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

"I love whatever you've done with your hair," said Risha, the therapist, brightly. "You look so much younger, I hope you don't mind me saying! At any rate, we're trying to convince Ezra that keeping up with his exercises for his legs will keep him playing piano and cello for many years to come, and that focusing exclusively on his hands will just make the tension worse--"

Ezra made a rude noise, and self-consciously shoved his hands in his pockets. "I stop when it hurts," he said. "And I'm not making progress fast enough, so--"

"You're progressing as fast as you need to go," said Risha, still brightly. "Don't you think, Dr. Townhome?"

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[cibarium]

< I didn't know this would happen, > Leila meekly beamed over. < I'm so sorry. > This was horrifying. She didn't have the parenting experience for this. And the compliments interspersed with the concerns were making her feel extremely weird.

Once the therapist had finished her spiel, Leila took a deep breath, and bent down to retrieve her papers before attempting a reply.

This took her a very long time, and even though her forensics work had trained her to keep a composed expression when she needed it, on the inside she was panicking. She had absolutely nothing to go on. Her opinions were threadbare, and insignificant against the ones she should actually have, which she didn't ******** know. What kind of mom had she turned out to be by the time Ezra was in his 20s? Was she a cool mom? A stern mom? Exactly like her own mother (which would honestly be fine)? She glanced to Ezra for a cue and realized that was ridiculous.

"Um," she repeated, gritting her teeth.

shibrgane

 

[shibrogane]

Ezra gave Leila look back that said I wish I was dead pretty clearly.

"I know you're not a medical doctor," Risha hurried to assure Leila, possibly misinterpreting the um. "But it's very important for his continued recovery that he continue doing all of his exercises at the pace at which they are set in order to avoid further injury to his hands. It's a very delicate time!"

Leila was clearly being used by the therapist to either guilt Ezra into compliance or else to explain, again, why Ezra was ******** up.

"Risha, I think your problem is with me," said Ezra, "so we should leave my mom out of it."

"Nonsense," said Risha. "A support system is vital in a situation like yours! Keeping your mothers in the loop is something you ought to have been doing yourself."

Ezra looked, again, like he was waiting for death.

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[cibarium]

"I..."

Leila continued to be speechless, her face going pale, posture shrinking, hands gripping her paper so hard it began to crumple and tear. They were shaking. This was too much. She was shivering and her eyes darted between Ezra and Risha as if the conversation were a starving wolf and she was an injured rabbit caged in with it. It was becoming an impossible struggle to think of what she could possibly say here, let alone say much at all in reality.

"I... don't think..."

This was probably because she was starting to have a panic attack.

"E-excuse me."

Slowly, shakily, Dr. Townhome set her things down on her chair. And then ran to the nearest bathroom. To throw up. Good job, Mom.

shibrogane

oops

 

[shibrogane]

Leila was not there to see Ezra and Risha finish their argument, but she probably noticed when there was a knock on the door to the bathroom. "Mom? Are you alright?"

cibarium

 

[cibarium]

Leila was finished throwing up after a minute or two. By the time Ezra knocked on the door she had moved on to the next phase of her supportive parental agenda, which was crying in the bathroom.

< I'm fine, > she replied, but the words dragged themselves over to Ezra's mind in an obvious lie.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

"You're also lying to me," said Ezra. "I'm sorry about that. Risha's got opinions, and... it's not fair that I didn't tell her to ******** off. Sorry." There was an awkward pause. "I grabbed your papers for you," he said.

cibarium

 

[cibarium]

There was another moment of silence, and then <Okay,> and another several minutes until she had regained enough of her composure to wash her face and open the door. She was still tense, and looked like a deer in headlights, which was probably understandable given the circumstances.

"Hi," Leila said. She swallowed back another 'um,' still uneasy about speaking. "That... it wasn't your fault."

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

Ezra shrugged. "Kinda feels like it," he said, "But it's immaterial anyway. How long 'til mom's done? Let me buy you coffee from the shitty hospital cafe thing. Or pellegrino, whatever."

cibarium

 

[cibarium]

Then it was Leila's turn to shrug. "It'll be a while. She's probably still mad at me for talking her into going today." Recalling that made her laugh a little bit. She didn't need to explain why, because the comparison was obvious.

They both knew well enough where the shitty hospital cafe thing was, and she wordlessly walked with him over there in apparent acceptance of his offer. Leila was grateful for the drink (partially because up until opening it and taking a sip, she still had vomit taste in her mouth). She also accepted the slightly crumpled document back, and busied her hands smoothing it out on the table. Her own name was centered on the first page, followed by institutional credentials and the beginning of a research statement -- it was her CV.

More accurately, it was the CV of the Leila she'd replaced.

Calmer, but still cautious, she said, "Looks like I'm not that much of a mom." Not that either of them could have anticipated a situation in which she'd be expected to, truly, act as a parent in such a way. She was still shaken by it, along with everything else on her mind.

shibrgane

 

[shibrogane]

Ezra got pellegrino too, though he was a loser who got the blood orange flavor. "Anyone would be unsettled by Risha," he said. "She's unsettling. How is she so chipper? Science will not ******** tell me."

cibarium

 

[cibarium]

"I'm usually that chipper," Leila frowned. "Or I was at one point. I think the me who knew what the hell she was doing would've chippered right back." Her own pellegrino was grapefruit.

"In, like. A helpful way."

shibrogane