the most unlikely of places

Jane

January 22. This week’s letter is d.

The time is 7:42. but not PM, much to my dismay. And I’m awake, not by choice but because my mom has sentenced me to sit in the holding place for disappointed hopes, the derision of darkness, the-

“Mrs. Kelly?” a conventional blond woman makes eye contact with me across the waiting room.

I like to think when she looks at me, she sees the passing look of horrific dread in my eyes.

When I look at her I see the disgruntled look of what 20 years does to a person working in customer service. Or maybe it’s just work that generally does that to a person.

“Mr. Bentley is ready to see you If you’ll follow me.”

I stand up, wishing to stall, but not knowing how. I’m not great at coming up with things under pressure… and her look of disappointment is definitely putting a little pressure on me. The look makes me think that maybe she lives alone with 4 cats, maybe she only seasons her food with salt, and maybe her house is entirely white and, the only splash of color is in the one throw blanket she splurged on 3 years ago at Home Goods in an attempt to make herfeelsomething. Needless to say, the look is a bit of a load. I feel likeIneed to be the one to make this woman feel anything other than… defeated.

But I don’t. I don’t move to talk to her, to make her smile, or even to learn her name. My mom pushes me slightly toward her in an attempt to get me moving. I silently follow the blonde down the hallway. The hallway I’ve memorized. Down to every pattern on every wall. Every gash in the white trim separating thegreywood floors, from the baby blue walls. I follow her down the winding hallways that smell of the cleaner they used to scrub down every surface of every room once the occupant moves out.

So many occupants. The empty wheelchair next to room five. So many rooms. The smell of citrus-scented Clorox wipes. The occupants that aren’t here anymore. The subtle buzz of the machines that just never goes away. The occupants that will never be here again.

They will never be here again.

He will never be here again.

breathe

I choose to focus on the blonde woman still leading me through the hallways.

I name her Darla. Disappointed Darla, Downcast Darla, Discouraged Darla.

She leads me to room 27.

My room.

Dr. Tony Bentley sits on the small yellow couch, that sits horizontally to a green chair, both facing directly toward the window.

Tony is what some may call…. pretentious. He always wants the people around him to think he is better than what he is. He wants people to know he is good.

But Tony is good. He has a nice heart. I know he doesn’t like to break other people’s.

“I’m sorry Sadie, he’s not here anymore, he didn’t- ”

I shake the memory from my mind.

Mr. Bentley looks up from his paper.

“Jane.” He greets with a small smile and a nod. “Come join me, sit please.”

Despondent Darla leaves without a goodbye.

I think of August

My heart aches at the thought.

I move across the room. I feel detached like my movements are not my own. Like this is a dream, some weird sense ofdejavu.

I make it to the green chair.

I sit.

“Tony.”

“Jane.”

“Is It back?”

He looks solemn as hegageshow I may react.

Disheartened, downcast, distressed, depressed, dismayed.

“Yes.”