The Hospital Waiting Room

I am in the hospital waiting room.

My girlfriend is here for a routine mammogram.

There is a couple who just came in. Late 30’s, I guess.

They are familiar with this place.

I notice they embrace after they sit down. Holding each other too long for casual affection.

They are speaking softly. Whispering.

And both are weeping silently.

Each stares into the others’ eyes.

I can’t tell which of them is sick.

Helpless.  I feel helpless.  Because I am.

Whatever is wrong I can’t fix it.

Neither can they.

And I wipe away my own tears as I watch the beginning of an end.

Helpless.

I will never forget the looks in their eyes. Sadness, but not just about the illness, whatever it is. It is more a regret that they had not held each other, really seen each other, more often before now. Before this.

When they arrived I was planning the rest of my week and pondering the future of a life turned upside down.

Now I am here. Present.

There is no future. There is only now.

The mammogram.

Why is it taking so long?

Time passes.  Slowly.

I watch. I listen. I wait.

She appears.

“Why are you crying?” she asks, glancing around for a cause.

“Are you OK?” I respond.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

As we walk to the door, I turn to see the couple one more time.  They are still holding each other. Tight. As if something unseen was about to pull them apart. Forever.  Still weeping. Still filled with pain and remorse. I believe he is the sick one but I don’t know.

Then I stop and put my arms around my girl and hold her tight. She is uncomfortable with the public display of affection.

“Why now?” she asks.

“Because now is all there is,” I whisper into her ear. “Is there something more important you would like to do?“ I pull back to see her face.

She smiles.

“No, nothing. Nothing at all.”

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