An Appointment

by Clark

The waiting room was small, but not so small that John could reach out his hand and touch the opposite wall. Not that he had particularly long arms, but he also didn’t have particularly short arms. That is to say, he had perfectly average arms and his fingertips couldn’t brush the wall if he sat at the edge of his seat and stretched, so that had to count for something. The room was small enough, though, that, if he stood up, he’d have to tilt his head to keep it from going through the ceiling, but that was easy to deal with. He just wouldn’t stand up.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting. He’d forgotten his watch in the rush to get to this appointment, and there weren’t any windows in the room to help him guess the time of day. But it couldn’t have been too long. His legs always started to cramp when he sat down for too long, and they hadn’t started hurting yet.

He twiddled his thumbs. He tapped his foot on the gray-flecked floor which bordered gray-flecked walls which rested on gray-flecked air. He sat for an eternity, or maybe a minute.

A door on the right hand wall swung open. John stood up and hit his head on the ceiling.

An orderly in scrubs the color of chewed mint gum stepped partially into the room. They barely looked up from their clipboard, and didn’t seem to notice John, who was rubbing his head.

”John?” they asked, a question that was actually a statement. John was the only person in the room.

John nodded and hit his head on the ceiling again.

The orderly gestured towards the open door. “Right this way, please.” They walked through the door without waiting to see if John would follow. He did.

The next room was taller, so John didn’t hit his head on the ceiling. In fact, he was pretty sure that if he stood up to his proper height and stretched his arms as high as they could go, he still wouldn’t touch it. He almost wanted to try it, just to see if he was right. But he was already sitting, so he didn’t.

John started counting in his head. He lost count somewhere in the thousands the first time, and was in the hundred thousands when an orderly in pale yellow scrubs stepped in.

”John?” they asked. A nod. “ Right this way, please.”

The next room had tan carpet that stretched across the floor. There was another smaller carpet on top of it that was almost the same shade of tan, and John busied himself by trying to figure out if there was any difference between the two. He didn’t think there was.

The next room was done up in shades of sticky burnt orange. The chairs here were upholstered but uncomfortable. John watched the next door with quiet anticipation.

To pass the time, he started humming, tunelessly, because he had heard somewhere that humming makes you feel better, but the walls ate the sound and made the room feel emptier. He stopped humming.

Another door opened and another orderly stepped through, this one wearing watery blue scrubs. They opened their mouth as if to speak, but John beat them to it.

“Hello, yes, I’m John, are they ready for me?”

The orderly only responded, “John? Right this way, please.”

The orderly went through the door and John followed.

The next room had a fish tank pushed up against one wall, except there were no fish in the tank, and the glass had turned a cloudy green, though the water filter burbled on. There was no rhythm in its gurgle, and John tried to turn it off but couldn’t find the plug.

The next room was an airy cornflower blue, and John thought he might not mind waiting here, but an orderly in dusty red scrubs walked in as soon as he sat down.

The next room had a single issue of LIFE Magazine on a coffee table, but, when he picked it up, John found that the pages between the covers had been torn out.

John’s legs started to cramp.

The next orderly had sickly yellow scrubs. The orderly after that had muddy brown ones. One of them had gray scrubs. Each orderly, each room, perfectly unique, and all exactly the same.

The next room was a study in beige, and John was staring at the walls when an orderly in salmon scrubs walked in. John stood without prompting, waiting, patiently, for the orderly to ask him his name.

”John?” the orderly asked. John did not nod of his own volition, but his head moved up and down regardless. He waited to be told to move right this way.

”You’re John?” the orderly asked again. That was new.

”Yes, I’m John, I’ve been waiting for my appointment. Should I go to the next waiting room?” John rasped. He wasn’t sure when he had last used his voice, but he was sure how this went. He waited.

The orderly blinked. “Oh, there’s not another waiting room,” they said. “This is the last one.”

            John didn’t move. He kept waiting.

            The orderly blinked again. “John,” they asked, “Did you hear me? This is the last waiting room, they’re ready for you now.”

            A crease appeared on John’s forehead. He just kept looking at the orderly.

            The orderly started to fidget. “John, could you please follow me?”

            The crease disappeared, and John’s eyes lit up. “To the next waiting room?” he asked, hopefully.

            The orderly started. “No,” they said, “there’s no more waiting rooms, it’s time-“

            But John had stopped listening at “no.” He put on a placid smile. “That’s alright,” he said. “You can come back and get me when it’s time to go to the next waiting room.”

            ”But-“ the orderly began, but John had already sat down. He waited. To pass the time, he tried to touch his tongue to his nose.

Bio:
Clark is a college student from Santa Clara University who likes theater, books, and power tools that go fast.