Cloud 69

13:

I stepped out of the shower feeling quite refreshed. Waking up early was not one of my hobbies, especially after spending most of the night awake. My entire body was aching and my head was pounding from how exhausted I was. 

I had no choice in the matter today. I had to get up early because my parents asked me to meet them at the hospital. And even though they're doctors, and have been my whole life, it is still a fact that nothing good ever comes from being told to go to the hospital. 

Beyond the annoyance of having to wake up early, I also had to dress nicely. The last time I came to the hospital, I rolled up in a hoodie and pajama pants with the Grinch on them. The way they looked at me, you would have thought I committed a double homicide or something. 

To me, it's not a big deal, but my parents worry about me looking "unprofessional" in case of the off chance that one of their investors just so happens to stop by. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been at the hospital (and I'm there more often than you might think) and I've run into someone who's actually slightly important.

The other problem I was facing with getting dressed this morning were the numerous hickeys decorating my skin. There were a couple on my neck, one on my collarbone, a few on my thighs, and other various places, some of which I don't even remember him touching. 

If it was anyone else, I would have said fuck it and leave the marks on display. My friends have all decided that it's better we don't ask each other questions when it comes to things like hickeys or oddly-placed bruises, because we probably wouldn't want to know the answer. 

However, my parents are nosy little bitches. They're hard on themselves for not being as involved as other parents can be, so they take any chance they can to get the dirt, whether it's through me or our schools' parents' facebook page. 

So, to appease their dress code, and the one that I had now set for myself, I settled on wearing a professional-looking pair of beige pants, a black shirt and a slightly oversized blazer. Not exactly Forbes fashion, but a definite step up from the Grinch pajamas, and everything was covered. 

On my way out, I stopped in the kitchen to grab an apple for breakfast. Of course, Carson just had to be sitting at the island, eating a bowl of cereal. He hadn't noticed me at first, and I was pretty sure that was probably a good thing. 

Eventually, he looked up from his phone for a second. He looked me over, curiosity knitting his brows for a moment before he ducked his head down again, and his attention returned to his phone. 

"Morning," I greeting, trying my best to be amicable. 

He didn't bother to grace me with another look up, and he didn't offer as much as a grunt of acknowledgment. His mood swings were becoming about as predictable as rain in Seattle. It didn't necessitate a reaction out of me anymore.

I rolled my eyes, "Great conversation."

*       *       *

The door to my mother's office was open when I arrived. The entirety of this section of the floor was just offices. There's a small section of cubicles in the far corner near the back wall, but I can't remember ever seeing anyone enter or exit from them– to be honest, I'm not sure they serve a purpose. Most of this floor is really just open space, with all of the private offices lining the left and right sides of the building.

The smaller offices are on the right side. I.T. and finance have their own area of offices and desks on one of the lower floors of the hospital, so these offices mostly belong to heads of departments and some of the administrators.