by deav - 11 mar 2008
Round lunch time
As I walked in she was already there. She seemed small in the waiting room crowded with furniture too big for the tiny space. It crossed my mind that it had not changed in thirty years, as far as I could remember: the same dark oak desk opposite the entrance door, the pair of two-seat leather couches facing each other, the low wooden table with a glass top placed between the couches in a way that made moving quite hard. The twelve year-old I once was called it “the penguin dance” and laughed in silence as people did their best to walk sideways, hopping from left to right in the narrow gap, to sit down at last with a grunt or a sigh. The long-legged were the funniest. Now I was the long-legged hopping penguin.
Damn. I ventured a slant and thanked God she was not paying attention, too busy trying to wipe her red nose with one hand while tucking a dirty tissue in her bag with the other.
“Good afternoon”, I said, just to be polite. She raised a pair of red tired eyes to me with a nod, an effortful faint smile partially seen under the new tissue, the other quickly tucked in the bag. Poor thing. I tried to concentrate on the magazine that seemed the newest one among the others on the table. Wow, Pearl Jam is playing next week? How could I have missed that? Oh, ok, last year, I was there. Damn, Dr. Mac should really upgrade his library.
She coughed, coughed and coughed again, in spasms, as if having difficulty in getting the air in her lungs. As she fussed about in the bag the empty box of tissues fell down through the gap between the couch and the table.
“Er… There’s a toilet… That door on your right…”
She raised the wet eyes again in a mixture of despair and gratitude and made her own penguin dance towards the toilet. Gracefully, I had to admit. Nice ass, I could not avoid thinking.
As I went through last year’s news, one ear was paying attention to the noises coming from the toilet. Running water… Cough, cough… Cough, cough… Man, the woman knows how to blow a nose for sure. I wondered why I was not disgusted; maybe because I had been in her shoes growing up. Dr. Mac would fix her too.
“A little better?” I asked as she came out of the toilet, hopping gracefully again towards the couch and sitting with a sigh.
“Yes, thank you.” Visibly she was not, but her effort was quite moving. Her lids were swollen and probably burning. Fever only made her eyes brighter. Dark blue. Hmm…
“Don’t worry, Dr. Mac will fix you in no time.”
“I hope so…” She gave that faint smile back to me again for only one second, reaching inside the bag for the new stash of tissues. Then she just put on what I use to call a subway look and sank in the leather, miserably trying to control the flood from her nose.
As I picked up another magazine and went through what was news a year and a half ago, I had to admit that she was beautiful. Not particularly hot, certainly not the big rack type. The golden light from the long narrow window above Mrs. Kent’s oak desk gave her brown hair a dark copper tone.
Where is the old cow, anyways? I had told her I only had a little time before a meeting; it was only a follow-up appointment, for Christ’s sake. She was probably inside the exam room with him, debriefing the last patient.
Great legs. I swear I tried not to stare. She looked younger than she probably was. A little younger than myself, I calculated. Not married… Not at present, probably divorced. I wondered if she had kids… No. And why was I wasting time wondering about her again? There was something about her. Vulnerability? Well, she looked quite vulnerable now, all swollen and sore. Maybe she was just another crazy woman who had driven her ex-husband mad. The bitch.
Man, get a grip. She is not “her”. Damn. Those pretty eyes could not lie. But I had been lied to by pretty eyes before.
“John, my lad! Tae wha’ do I owe the pleasure of yer visit?”
“Dr. Mac, hi, you asked me to come as soon as I finished the treatment…”
“Och, aye. Come in, lad.”
I could feel it when she trembled.
“Er… Dr. Mac, I think this nice lady here needs you more than I do… She can go in now, I can wait…”
“Verra nice, then! Dinna fash, lad, it wilna be loung!” Yes, Dr. Mac, I know, not more than a couple of hours, I thought trying to conceal a laugh.
“Come in, lassie!”
I almost climbed the glass tabletop to grab her arm as she struggled to stand up. Or carry her inside in my arms. But I did not.
“Thank you, sir. You’re awfully kind”, she said in a whisper, a broader smile on her face of relief.
Man, you are fucking beautiful… I was afraid I had said it out loud but what came out was simply “Don’t mention it.” And I watched her walk inside with him as if she were entering a sanctuary.
I penguin-danced back to the couch, a stubborn smile making my jaw hurt. It had been a while since I had felt like smiling like that. I sat down, sighed and searched for my mobile.
“Greg? Hi! Er… Something came up and I have to re-schedule our meeting… Really, you too? … Great! … Five is good for you? ... Five thirty is fine. See you. Bye.”
As I tucked the phone in my pocket it hit me: I was feeling relaxed, invigorated, actually. Somehow I knew that everything would be all right now. Strange…
Round lunch time II
She had been there for a while when he walked in. Right, she thought. Of course it had to be a handsome man, sure, just now that her nose looked and behaved like a big red dripping tap. Damn. It was probably the mould, that old carpet must be crowded with acarids. She could almost feel them crawling up her legs. Long boots had been a good choice. And jeans. She closed her brown velvet jacket round her neck and quickly replaced the wet tissue for a new one. I should have bought another box. Damn.
She averted her look as he clumsily made his way to the leather couch opposite her. Funny. And kinda cute. But she was not going to laugh; she was not really in the mood for laughing, not after the last sleepless nights sitting up on the bed to prevent the coughing attacks, the headache, the fever, the running nose, the pain all over her body.
“Good afternoon.”
She was sure he had just said that to be polite. She nodded and forced a smile under the next tissue. And she was really grateful when he grabbed a magazine and tried to look really interested in last year’s news. She would not venture a read this time. Old magazines plus doctor’s office equals acarids. The last thing she needed now was a sneezing crisis. Or another session of coughs.
She looked around. Although the pieces of furniture were too big for the waiting room, she had to admit that they were beautiful. She wondered that the oak desk must be two hundred years old. The leather crackled beneath her – and him, for that matter - every time she moved, as if it were new and had been recently polished. Polish. Oh, no, the cough! She screamed in her mind trying desperately to hold back the spasm and get some air in her lungs.
Fuck me. She just could not believe when she realized that the box of tissues was empty. She searched hopelessly in the bag for that last single piece of tissue that could be hiding under her wallet. No. Ok, she could try to reuse the ones she had tucked in there. Eew!
She was about to try to rescue the empty box that of course had fallen down that impossible gap between the couch and the table – what nut, sadistic person would place those humongous pieces of furniture in that impossible fashion?! – when the handsome man came to her aid:
“Er… There’s a toilet…” - where, for the love of the Goddess? – “That door on your right…”
She raised her wet eyes to him with a mixture of despair and gratitude and made her way through that ridiculous half meter towards the toilet as graciously as she could. At least she would preserve her dignity. Go ahead, check my butt, you pervert. At least that part of her was presentable. She locked the door too thin for her taste and tried to control the attack. Fuck it, this is a doctor’s office, I’m fucking sick, I just can’t be a fucking lady now! She was really mad at handsome man when she gave her nose a deep and thorough blow. She stared at the reddish-green thing in the sink with disgust. My Goddess, I’ll never be able to kiss anybody again, ever, for the rest of my life! She sighed and fiercely attacked the tissue dispenser, staring at her running nose that seemed to defy her from the other side of the mirror. Now I’m ready for you. She looked at her wasted face, tucked a stubborn lock of hair behind her ear and felt like crying. You’re a mess, woman. She wished she could just hide there, at least until handsome man was gone, maybe let her nose drip straight into the sink. No? Go, woman, be brave.
“A little better?” he asked as she hopped back to her couch.
“Yes, thank you”, she replied through a clogged nose. Beautiful baritone…
“Don’t worry, Dr. Mac will fix you in no time.”
“I hope so.” She smiled faintly. He’d better. She rushed to get another tissue as her nose started running again. And now her eyelids were burning. Fever. She knew the symptoms too well. She sank in the leather and surrendered to a terrible feeling of exhaustion. She had always had those episodes, but it had all got worse since the divorce. New home, new job… She knew she was turning all the stress into illness. All of a sudden she felt ashamed of her private tantrum against handsome man. She had to admit he had tried to be nice. He was not him, for the Goddess’s sake. By now he would be quite mad at her, actually blaming her for being sick. She wondered it had been a blessing after all that they had not had kids. Fifteen years. She knew she looked younger than she was, but lately she had been feeling a lot much older. She wondered if handsome man was checking her, but she was too tired to worry. Ok, did he really stare as she crossed her legs? Or was she hallucinating? The fever, perhaps…
But he was really handsome. Grey eyes. Sad eyes. She could tell that he had suffered, that crease between his eyebrows could not lie. Tissue after tissue provided good shelter for a closer watch: light brown hair turning grey on the sides; tall; broad shoulders; strong arms visible beneath the sleeves of the suit; business man, probably self-made; a little older than herself; she could bet he was divorced. But his most striking feature was the eyes. Sweet, softening the grave expression of the square jaw, the nose almost too long, the hard thin lips. Lips… Kiss…
“John, my lad! Tae wha’ do I owe the pleasure of yer visit?”
“Dr. Mac, hi, you asked me to come as soon as I finished the treatment…”
“Och, aye. Come in, lad.”
For no particular reason she trembled. It could be that she was shivering. It could be the perspective of another long wait. It could be that he would go away and she would never see him again. Damn fever!
“Er… Dr. Mac, I think this nice lady here needs you more than I do… She can go in now, I can wait…” She held her breath.
“Verra nice, then! Dinna fash, lad, it wilna be loung! Come in, lassie!” Handsome man made an almost imperceptible funny face.
“Thank you, sir. You’re awfully kind”, she smiled and sighed with relief. I love you, you’re my hero, I want to marry you and be the mother of your four children. She was afraid she had said it out loud. Crazy fever!
“Don’t mention it.” He had the most beautiful smile and she thought that he was actually glowing. Blessed fever!
A smile frozen in her face made her jaw hurt. She wondered it had been a while since she had felt like smiling that way. She suddenly felt light and safe and entered the office with that nice old doctor as if it were a sanctuary. Somehow she knew that everything would be all right now. Good…
* * *
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