The Waiting Room - short story

 The Waiting Room by Michael Peterson

It was a fun, beautiful summer day. My friend Stephine and I were driving along. Listening to music, laughing, and just enjoying life. In love with life but not each other. A rare platonic relationship between a man and woman. We were goofy and silly. People always made the assumption that we were together. But she had a husband and kids, and I had a proclivity to others like myself. It was our “therapy time”. Just getting in the car, with no destination, no plan, no expectations. Just get in, buckle up, and drive. We drove for what seemed like hours. Just enjoying the warm summer air coming through the windows. We pulled over to watch the sunset over a lake. Still listening to our music. The day was perfect. Just two really good friends, hanging out. As the light dimmed it began to feel like I was floating. I looked to where Stephine was and she wasn’t there. But there was a door. “What the fuck is going on” I said out loud. The music was softer now, more tinny. I noticed that the lake was nothing more than a mural on the wall. Confusion set in as I tried hard to remember what was going on. I felt drunk, and lightheaded. Like it was the first time I had ever stood or walked. None of the usual pains, or heaviness. Almost like gravity was somehow less, and that it was less effort to make simple movements. I opened the door and saw a small hallway with a few chairs and what looked like a woman with a clipboard. I walked up to her and said “hey how did I get here?” To which she said in a super cheery voice, “My name is Stephine, and you’ve been here for several hours now sir, just looking at a painting in the hall. What was it that you were looking at?” Puzzled, I said “a lake at sunset.” She smiled. “Where am I? I dont remember coming here, or where here is? Where is my friend Stephine?” my voice trailed off as I struggled to piece things together. My memory and thoughts were like trying to read a book under cloudy water. Bits and pieces came but it was fuzzy. “Oh, well this is a waiting room. A new corridor seemed to just appear to the side of her. That or I was just in so much of a daze that I didnt notice it. In this area with another set of hallways, one of them painted grey, the other well lit, and bright. There was what appeared to be a reception desk. There was an older woman with long grey, unkempt hair, in an old worn nightgown. She didn’t say anything, but anytime someone would come and write something on the clipboard on the counter by her, she would throw her arms up like she wanted a hug, and people would just walk by. She looked like she was straight out of a nursing home or an asylum. The lady behind me said “hospital! Poor dear has been her for years. This is kind of her job. Day in and day out she stands there and does the same thing over and over.” I turned to look back at her. The same repetition over and over. “Has anyone ever talked to her or asked her what she's doing here? Does she ever go home? What’s her story?” I questioned. “No. Just one day she was there. We just kinda let her be.” Stephine said. I noticed that sometimes people would come out of the Grey area and other times they would come in from the door that I had walked in through and just took a seat. But each person stopped at that clipboard, read it for a moment and signed it, and then walked past the old lady and either turn to the right or went through a set of double doors. I walked over to the clipboard. As I did I looked down the grey hallway but didnt see much as it made a right turn. There was a big picture window that I hadn’t seen behind the counter with the clipboard on it. I looked at the clipboard and there were all types of names, with little pictures next to them. Some of the names were in crayon, some fancy scrolled signatures with little doodles of a cloud, or a cat, or a heart. “You may sign it anytime you are ready to sir.” Stephine said. I looked at her and said “what is it for?” at which point a middle aged man about five foot five, heavy set, and naked and looking wet, came walking in from the gray hall. His bare feet slapping the floor with every step he took. “Excuse me” he said as he reached for the clipboard. “Um hey buddy why are you naked?” I asked. “Just happens sometimes. You never know, I guess.” And he signed his name, and drew a little car. Looked at the window, smiled and then turned to walk past the old lady, who like clockwork threw her hands up and smiled, he went over and hugged her, and continued on, and he stopped and looked at the other grey hallway, and then at the double doors like he didn’t know which way to go. “Sir” Stephine called “You want the hallway to the right.” He looked over his shoulder, and took a deep breath and sighed and turned and walked down the hall. “Is it ok for him to be naked like that?” I said to Stephine. “Oh it happens more often than you’d realize.” She said. “Well sir, its your time to sign the clipboard.” She smiled. “What is it for? And where am I? Why do I have to sign it at all? And where is my friend Stephine?” I demanded. “Sir, Im the only Stephine here right now. And this is a waiting room.” I walked over to the clipboard and the words had changed on it, but the signatures were the same. But it now said “Please inscribe your name,and draw a little picture of what makes you happy, doesn’t have to be artistic, just a doodle.” I looked at the window and it seemed to be playing a movie now. Some familiar scenes. My first dog. The christmas that I got a new bike. Swimming at a pool party. Sitting in history class doodling in the margins of my book. A dental appointment I had to get fillings. A balloon that I got at a circus when I was 5yrs old. Random unsequiencial images and events, that were personal to me. Things I had forgotten, things that had just happened. But how and why were they playing on this screen? “What…?” “You know hun” Stephine cut me off. My eyes began to well up. “You mean?” I forced the words, “but how? Why?” She furrowed her brow “why not?” I then heard a little voice behind me “‘scuse me” and a little hand pushing past me. It was a little girl about 5yrs old. Short blonde hair, and a little yellow dress with white flowers on it. She picked up the board and scribbled Sussie in a blue crayon and drew a little cat. She then went skipping toward the double doors, and the old lady crouched down and threw her hands up and Sussie went over and gave her a hug, and the lady walked her to the door and opened it for her “thank you nice lady” she said as she walked through. The old lady returned to her post, and looked at me. “Did she...was she…” my voice cracked as the realization began to set in. “Yes” Stephine said softly. “Did I ever have a friend Stephine? In the car? I mean…” again my voice left me. “You and your friend were together yes. But her name wasn’t Stephine. That is my name. And it was in the car too. I was sent to be with your friend Sarah that day. And for whatever reason you saw me and new my name, and didn’t see Mandy sitting there in the passenger seat, or standing with you at the lake. But I guess none of that matters now.” She said. “I began to write my name. And drew a balloon. I dont know why a balloon, but it was the first thing that came to mind. The old lady turned to me and threw her arms up. I knew it was now my turn to go. I looked at the elderly lady and smiled and hugged her. I got to the door and the hallway. “Oh sir” Stephine called out urgently as I reached for the door. “Apparently there's been a mistake. Not now.” I awoke. The light was blinding. My head was hurting. The beeping of machines, and the out of tune sound of voices. “Where...where am I” My voice was shaky and raspy. “You're at St. Peter’s hospital. You were in an accident over by Lake Pleasant. But you and your friend are going to be fine. You’ve been out for a few days. She’s already gone home. A car lost control while you were at the lookout and ran into the back of your car and pushed it over the embankment.” The doctor explained. Bits and pieces of those moments came back. Mandy screaming. That floating feeling. The dimming light and the muffled sounds of the radio. “You are lucky to be alive son. It was only a small drop but still someone was watching over you two that day. But now that you are awake, im going to keep your for observation for the night and you can go in the morning. Get some rest.” The doctor said. I fell back into a dreamless sleep. The next morning my discharge was early. I got up, and dressed. Still a bit weak. Mandy was there to drive me home. As we were walking we came up on a door that was opened. In there was an older woman hooked to all manner of machines. Long grey hair, and a worn nightgown. “It cant be!'' I exclaimed. “What?” Mandy asked. “I know this woman.” I went into her room. It was the same lady from the waiting room. The old lady who offered hugs to those who signed their names. I walked over to her, and took her hand in mine, and leaned over and hugged her and whispered “thank you”. For a brief moment it felt like she squeezed my hand. But she laid there motionless. A reflex perhaps. As we left the room, and nurse with a clipboard rounded the corner and cheerfully smiled “oh good morning, on your way home?” “Yes.” I quickly said “The lady in there, how long has she been here?” I asked. “Well I really cant say much, but its been several months. But I have the feeling that she is a lovely woman, who just feels that everything is better with a hug” she smiled. “Well you take care hun, we dont want to see you any sooner than you need to be.” And as she walked past I noticed her name tag said Stephine and there was a little red balloon sticker next to it. To this day I dont know if my experience in the waiting room was real, or just a delusion. I do know that Stephine and the old lady were somehow connected, and that I was changed for my interactions with them.