The Impossible Children
Medical Leave
“Would it be too melodramatic to call this the first day of the end of my life?” Kurt pondered aloud.
The girls answered simultaneously. Santana affirmed that it would be, and Rachel said it would not. He shot them both looks.
“Rachel, you can't judge what is or isn't melodramatic since you practically run on melodrama, and Santana's just looking for an opportunity to judge and ridicule,” he said. When they both froze, he added, “Relax, I'm kidding...mostly.” After gathering his belongings, he said, “I'll see you guys later.” With that, he exited the apartment.
One week. He had given himself one last week of normal life, and now it was up. He sighed. It was only a matter of time now, it seemed, before things got so much weirder and so much worse. He shook his head as if to banish the thoughts. He could not go there right now; he had some important errands to run.
He had already done one of the hardest tasks. He had given Vogue his two weeks notice at the beginning of his “last normal week”, which understandably already made it less normal. This week would be his last there, his one last tie to his normal existence about to be unfortunately severed. He tried but failed not to think about how he would absolutely never again be so lucky as he was to land such a dream job. This was it, his one chance at it, and it was being ripped from him by cruel and highly unusual circumstances.
Presently, he was about to board the subway. He absolutely dreaded what he was going to attempt to do, and for that reason he had put off doing it, refusing to do so during his precious “normal week”. With a note from Dr. Samuels that Kurt had not even tried to read yet (and he was unsure if he could, given the doctor's atrocious handwriting) and all the nerve he could muster, he was about to try to get a medical leave from the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts.
He had never heard of anyone trying to get any sort of leave from the academy, and he could only assume that was because it was simply unheard of. No one would dare to even ask probably. There was no telling how difficult it would be to obtain a medical leave. So, he would probably fail, but he had to try. Failing that, he would simply have to quit, and he knew there would be no coming back from that. At least with this, he had some semblance of a chance (ignoring the distinct possibility that he might still not be able to return.)
It was amazing, all of the little stupid things that he took for granted in daily life that he was going to miss. He might even miss taking the subway, or at least he knew he would miss the utter normality of it. He probably only had a couple of ordinary subway rides left. He looked around at all the other passengers, just living their normal lives and probably taking little stupid things for granted.
He decided to try and decipher the handwritten doctor's note that he was clinging tightly in his hands. Try as he might, Kurt could only make out fragments. He found the phrase “rare medical condition” but could not figure out the surrounding text. He gathered that Dr. Samuels was probably neither lying nor telling the whole truth. The phrasing he could pick out seemed to indicate as much; it all seemed very carefully worded, very thought out, like the man wanted to give the school administrators enough information to hopefully satisfy them but not enough to reveal the true yet unbelievable nature of what was really happening to Kurt. Kurt greatly appreciated that, this was going to be hard enough without the true nature of his situation further complicating it and further humiliating him.
His heart leaped into his throat when he reached his stop. “Okay. Okay. Breathe,” He mentally coached himself, “You can't do this without breathing.” He stepped off the subway and onto the platform, and he began walking briskly toward his destination (or as it presently felt to him, toward his probable doom.)
He made the rest of the trip rather quickly, and before he knew it he was looking up at the intimidating fortress that was NYADA. He stood before it for several moments, mentally coaching himself once more and trying to maintain some illusion of calm. He took a deep breath, let it go, and moved forward. Madame Thibideaux was expecting him, so he absolutely could not be late.
Despite his best efforts, he was a nervous wreck. At this point, he would just have to work hard at hiding it. He pocketed the note from Dr. Samuels and tried to dry his sweaty palms. He focused on breathing normally, like a calm person who did not suffer from any sort of occasional shortness of breath and who was most certainly not on the verge of panicking presently. His expression he forced into something far more cool than he felt.
Arriving at Madame Thibideaux's ever-foreboding office, he placed a knock on her door with a hand that shook slightly. He saw her glance up from her desk. “Come in,” she beckoned and went back to the work on her desk. Kurt was not sure he'd ever felt so much respect and terror for any other individual on Earth. He hoped he didn't seem as terrified as he felt inside, but he felt his eyes had gone a bit wide as he gazed upon the woman before him expectantly.
“Please, have a seat, Mr. Hummel,” she said and soon after he obliged her request she turned all her attention to him, which proved to be so much worse than when she had only been giving him maybe half.
He wondered if she gave everyone she spoke with mild panic symptoms, or if he was just a mess. He got the note out of his pocket and smoothed it back out, anxiously fidgeting with it to occupy his nervous hands. Madame Thibideaux cleared her throat, and his attentions shot upward.
“Now, Mr. Hummel, I understand that you wanted to meet with me to discuss a medical leave,” the intimidating woman said.
Kurt nodded. “Yes, ma'am. I have the note here, from my doctor.” He extended his hand holding the note toward her.
She took the piece of paper and read over it. The silence was practically screaming at Kurt, but he took it as another moment to try to regain and maintain some composure. If he was going to pull this off, he was going to have to be cool and collected, or at least as much as he could be in the presence of Madame Thibideaux.
“I see,” she said and set the note down on her desk. “Mr. Hummel, do you realize how rare it is for this school to grant anyone medical leave? For anyone to even ask?”
Kurt nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma'am, I do. I wouldn't even dream of it if it weren't absolutely necessary.”
"And you do realize what sort of a position this puts us all in, what with you having just been accepted and registered for classes?” she continued with her interrogation.
Kurt nodded again. “Yes. I realize just how unfortunate the timing is.”
She considered the note again and looked at him skeptically. “And if this were a shorter leave, I might grant it with fewer questions asked, but nine months is a long time. I mean, are you having a baby?”
“No!” His response was a little too quick, a little too frantic and defensive. “No, no, of course not,” he added, trying to soften it. He could feel his face turning crimson.
“Relax, Mr. Hummel, that was a joke. I would hope that would be more obvious,” the lady said dryly.
“Oh yeah,” Kurt said, mentally cursing himself. He laughed nervously.
“But really, why should we grant you such a long leave when you've only just begun to prove yourself here?” Madame Thibideaux questioned.
“B-because...” God, he was losing his cool. He swallowed. What was he supposed to say? He frantically searched his brain for all of his rehearsed material. He took a deep breath. “I-I know how unfortunate the timing is with this, believe me I've spent plenty of time agonizing over it.” He paused. Okay, that was a start at least. “But I can and I will make up for it. I will work ten times as hard to catch up, to prove that I belong here and that I'm not just wasting your time or space on the roster, to prove that your decision to reconsider me for this school was a sound one. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure my place here. I'll do anything, anything at all—”
She cut him short. “Please, Mr. Hummel, don't start grovelling. It's not at all becoming.” She paused and studied him until he thought the immense pressure of her gaze was going to destroy him. “But I believe you.”
He was prepared to apologize for everything, for ever asking, for ever bothering her at all and wasting her and the academy's time and resources. He was ready to resign and run away, until her words shocked him back to reality. “W-What?”
“I believe you, Mr. Hummel, and I believe in you. I know you will work hard, and I know how much your place at this academy means to you. I know you would not miss a day that was not absolutely necessary,” she continued. Kurt was utterly floored and stared in awed disbelief. She went on, “I respect and admire your passion and dedication, and for that, I will see what I can do to grant you this unfortunate leave.”
“I— thank you,” Kurt responded completely flustered and amazed, “Th-thank you so much. I- I promise you won't regret this.”
“Okay, Mr. Hummel.” She somehow seemed both amused by him and utterly tired of him. “I'm holding you to that. You may go now.”
The girls answered simultaneously. Santana affirmed that it would be, and Rachel said it would not. He shot them both looks.
“Rachel, you can't judge what is or isn't melodramatic since you practically run on melodrama, and Santana's just looking for an opportunity to judge and ridicule,” he said. When they both froze, he added, “Relax, I'm kidding...mostly.” After gathering his belongings, he said, “I'll see you guys later.” With that, he exited the apartment.
One week. He had given himself one last week of normal life, and now it was up. He sighed. It was only a matter of time now, it seemed, before things got so much weirder and so much worse. He shook his head as if to banish the thoughts. He could not go there right now; he had some important errands to run.
He had already done one of the hardest tasks. He had given Vogue his two weeks notice at the beginning of his “last normal week”, which understandably already made it less normal. This week would be his last there, his one last tie to his normal existence about to be unfortunately severed. He tried but failed not to think about how he would absolutely never again be so lucky as he was to land such a dream job. This was it, his one chance at it, and it was being ripped from him by cruel and highly unusual circumstances.
Presently, he was about to board the subway. He absolutely dreaded what he was going to attempt to do, and for that reason he had put off doing it, refusing to do so during his precious “normal week”. With a note from Dr. Samuels that Kurt had not even tried to read yet (and he was unsure if he could, given the doctor's atrocious handwriting) and all the nerve he could muster, he was about to try to get a medical leave from the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts.
He had never heard of anyone trying to get any sort of leave from the academy, and he could only assume that was because it was simply unheard of. No one would dare to even ask probably. There was no telling how difficult it would be to obtain a medical leave. So, he would probably fail, but he had to try. Failing that, he would simply have to quit, and he knew there would be no coming back from that. At least with this, he had some semblance of a chance (ignoring the distinct possibility that he might still not be able to return.)
It was amazing, all of the little stupid things that he took for granted in daily life that he was going to miss. He might even miss taking the subway, or at least he knew he would miss the utter normality of it. He probably only had a couple of ordinary subway rides left. He looked around at all the other passengers, just living their normal lives and probably taking little stupid things for granted.
He decided to try and decipher the handwritten doctor's note that he was clinging tightly in his hands. Try as he might, Kurt could only make out fragments. He found the phrase “rare medical condition” but could not figure out the surrounding text. He gathered that Dr. Samuels was probably neither lying nor telling the whole truth. The phrasing he could pick out seemed to indicate as much; it all seemed very carefully worded, very thought out, like the man wanted to give the school administrators enough information to hopefully satisfy them but not enough to reveal the true yet unbelievable nature of what was really happening to Kurt. Kurt greatly appreciated that, this was going to be hard enough without the true nature of his situation further complicating it and further humiliating him.
His heart leaped into his throat when he reached his stop. “Okay. Okay. Breathe,” He mentally coached himself, “You can't do this without breathing.” He stepped off the subway and onto the platform, and he began walking briskly toward his destination (or as it presently felt to him, toward his probable doom.)
He made the rest of the trip rather quickly, and before he knew it he was looking up at the intimidating fortress that was NYADA. He stood before it for several moments, mentally coaching himself once more and trying to maintain some illusion of calm. He took a deep breath, let it go, and moved forward. Madame Thibideaux was expecting him, so he absolutely could not be late.
Despite his best efforts, he was a nervous wreck. At this point, he would just have to work hard at hiding it. He pocketed the note from Dr. Samuels and tried to dry his sweaty palms. He focused on breathing normally, like a calm person who did not suffer from any sort of occasional shortness of breath and who was most certainly not on the verge of panicking presently. His expression he forced into something far more cool than he felt.
Arriving at Madame Thibideaux's ever-foreboding office, he placed a knock on her door with a hand that shook slightly. He saw her glance up from her desk. “Come in,” she beckoned and went back to the work on her desk. Kurt was not sure he'd ever felt so much respect and terror for any other individual on Earth. He hoped he didn't seem as terrified as he felt inside, but he felt his eyes had gone a bit wide as he gazed upon the woman before him expectantly.
“Please, have a seat, Mr. Hummel,” she said and soon after he obliged her request she turned all her attention to him, which proved to be so much worse than when she had only been giving him maybe half.
He wondered if she gave everyone she spoke with mild panic symptoms, or if he was just a mess. He got the note out of his pocket and smoothed it back out, anxiously fidgeting with it to occupy his nervous hands. Madame Thibideaux cleared her throat, and his attentions shot upward.
“Now, Mr. Hummel, I understand that you wanted to meet with me to discuss a medical leave,” the intimidating woman said.
Kurt nodded. “Yes, ma'am. I have the note here, from my doctor.” He extended his hand holding the note toward her.
She took the piece of paper and read over it. The silence was practically screaming at Kurt, but he took it as another moment to try to regain and maintain some composure. If he was going to pull this off, he was going to have to be cool and collected, or at least as much as he could be in the presence of Madame Thibideaux.
“I see,” she said and set the note down on her desk. “Mr. Hummel, do you realize how rare it is for this school to grant anyone medical leave? For anyone to even ask?”
Kurt nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma'am, I do. I wouldn't even dream of it if it weren't absolutely necessary.”
"And you do realize what sort of a position this puts us all in, what with you having just been accepted and registered for classes?” she continued with her interrogation.
Kurt nodded again. “Yes. I realize just how unfortunate the timing is.”
She considered the note again and looked at him skeptically. “And if this were a shorter leave, I might grant it with fewer questions asked, but nine months is a long time. I mean, are you having a baby?”
“No!” His response was a little too quick, a little too frantic and defensive. “No, no, of course not,” he added, trying to soften it. He could feel his face turning crimson.
“Relax, Mr. Hummel, that was a joke. I would hope that would be more obvious,” the lady said dryly.
“Oh yeah,” Kurt said, mentally cursing himself. He laughed nervously.
“But really, why should we grant you such a long leave when you've only just begun to prove yourself here?” Madame Thibideaux questioned.
“B-because...” God, he was losing his cool. He swallowed. What was he supposed to say? He frantically searched his brain for all of his rehearsed material. He took a deep breath. “I-I know how unfortunate the timing is with this, believe me I've spent plenty of time agonizing over it.” He paused. Okay, that was a start at least. “But I can and I will make up for it. I will work ten times as hard to catch up, to prove that I belong here and that I'm not just wasting your time or space on the roster, to prove that your decision to reconsider me for this school was a sound one. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure my place here. I'll do anything, anything at all—”
She cut him short. “Please, Mr. Hummel, don't start grovelling. It's not at all becoming.” She paused and studied him until he thought the immense pressure of her gaze was going to destroy him. “But I believe you.”
He was prepared to apologize for everything, for ever asking, for ever bothering her at all and wasting her and the academy's time and resources. He was ready to resign and run away, until her words shocked him back to reality. “W-What?”
“I believe you, Mr. Hummel, and I believe in you. I know you will work hard, and I know how much your place at this academy means to you. I know you would not miss a day that was not absolutely necessary,” she continued. Kurt was utterly floored and stared in awed disbelief. She went on, “I respect and admire your passion and dedication, and for that, I will see what I can do to grant you this unfortunate leave.”
“I— thank you,” Kurt responded completely flustered and amazed, “Th-thank you so much. I- I promise you won't regret this.”
“Okay, Mr. Hummel.” She somehow seemed both amused by him and utterly tired of him. “I'm holding you to that. You may go now.”