It Doesn't Do Well to Dream

Chapter 3

Clara didn't give Peyton a choice about going to the hospital. The minute Peyton proved she knew her own name and the date, Clara shoved her in her old station wagon and sped off to the nearest clinic. Peyton didn't argue. She was still trembling after finding out that she'd slept until well after noon, and after being told that Clara had been trying to wake her for five minutes before she had finally stirred.

"I'm sorry you had to be disturbed when you should be sleeping," Peyton said. "I could have driven myself."

"Shut up." Clara rolled her eyes. "I'm just glad you have me as your emergency contact. Can you imagine if you had your mom down first? She's over an hour away."

Peyton's eyes went wide as she let go of a shaky breath.

"You're right," she said. "Can you imagine if my mom found out? Oh my gosh, she would freak."

Clara winced.

"No, please- no. Clara, please tell me you didn't call her. Oh no! When did you even have time?"
"I was freaking out, ok," Clara snapped. "I thought maybe she'd know if there was medical stuff in your family! You slipped into a coma or something, Peyton! What did you expect me to do? She deserves to know."
Peyton groaned and buried her head in her hands.

"She's coming, isn't she."

"I think she was in the car before I hung up. Your dad too."
"Oh, lord."

The hospital was in a lull when they arrived, but Clara went screeching into a parking spot like they had to race three gurneys for the last few rooms. Peyton was feeling better, though still thoroughly worried, and was able to keep a calm head while Clara crashed into the front check-in desk of the ER. The woman behind the counter appeared surprised.

"Clara! I thought you had the night shift."

"I do, but my friend needs to see someone right now. Probably a neurologist too, to be safe. Who's in?"

The nurse began handing over a clipboard with the standard check-in paperwork which Peyton accepted while Clara continued to stand in on her behalf.

"Well, Dr. Rosenquist is in, as well as Dr. Adams. I'm not sure who's upstairs."

Clara waved her hand in dismissal.

"Dr. Rosenquist should be good. Do you have that filled out yet?"
Peyton scowled.

"Give me one second. I don't exactly know how to explain what's going on."

She chewed her lip as she ticked off a few boxes and scribbled a note in the designated area on the back of the page, then passed the clipboard back to the nurse.

"You'll be called back when a doctor is available. Shouldn't be too long; it's not busy today. Not yet at least."
She thanked the woman and followed Clara over to the waiting area to park herself in one of the uncomfortable plastic seats in an exercise of patience.

Peyton slumped in the chair as she waited and sighed. Despite sleeping until two, she felt exhausted already. But more in the way that stress exhausts you than actual tiredness. There was a pulling, heaviness to the feeling and it wasn't helped with the knowledge that her parents would eventually be bursting through the hospital doors.

The quiet murmurings of the hospital filled the room for a few minutes before Clara spoke again.

"What's going on, Peyton? This is the second time you've slept in way later than normal, and the other day you woke up with a panic attack? Is work going that badly?"

"No." Peyton turned to find Clara's worried gaze locked on her. She ran a hand through her tangled hair and wondered about how much she should really say. How much truth could she tell before people thought she was crazy?