I find it a struggle to keep my eyes open as the car drifts down the road. It’s barely ten in the morning; but it ought to be nighttime for how tired I am. The trip to the doctor’s office only lasts a short twenty minutes, but my sleep deprivation makes it just long enough for my mind to fight consciousness. A sudden stop of motion breaks my hazy daydream. We’ve arrived at the doctor’s office. I rub my eyes and try to prepare myself for the long battle ahead. I don’t want to leave the safe haven of this truck. My dad is already waiting at the entrance with the door open. I appreciate his kindness, but making me walk in first only makes my heart pound faster. A smiling woman sits behind the counter. Her eyes follow me as I enter the room and beckon me to say something. I give her a nervous smile and take a seat in the waiting area. I can’t do this. My dad checks me in before taking a seat next to me. The only other people in here are a mother and her toddler-aged son. The mom is quiet as she reads a magazine and her kid busies himself with a toy car from the play-center. The boy makes fake car sounds in between his sneezes and coughs, making for an anxiety filled wait. Before long, he becomes tired with his plastic car and crawls into his mom’s lap. He sniffles a little and cuddles into her neck, and then he notices my dad and me. The boy takes small glances toward us, trying to be as subtle as possible. On one particular glance, I decide to look back at him. Our eyes meet for a split second, and then he dives back into his mom’s neck. This little guy is cute. His curiosity keeps causing him to look back. I offer a warm smile, and it seems to make his day. A squeal, followed by a cough, comes from his mouth, and then he hides away again. The boy’s mom looks to me with a warm smile before going back to her magazine.
For the next five minutes the boy and I trade off looking, smiling, and giggling. This game we’re playing is helping more than just him; my anxiety has all but gone away. The boy finally stops his game for a brief second to whisper something to his mom. With a smile, she explains that I’m sick, and need to see the doctor, just like him. She then points to my leg. The boy’s curious eyes follow her finger and gasp at the sight of my nearly thigh-high cast. The boy’s mom explains the different types of injuries. I’m sure the boy doesn’t understand much of what his mom has said, but that doesn’t stop him from smiling and nodding like he does. After another few minutes, the boy goes back to his car, and we plummet back to the silent wait.
Finally a woman opens the door that leads to the examining rooms. She smiles at her patients and calls out the boy’s name: Michael. Michael’s mom stands up and beckons him to her arms. He turns to give me a goodbye smile. Our eyes meet again and I smile back. Something changes in that split second. Michael’s eyes look away from me for just a moment, and a frown creeps onto his face. He whispers something to his mom, who looks toward me and gains a confused expression. She whispers something back to Michael and walks out of the waiting room.
My head swings around so fast, I may have whiplashed myself. I don’t know what Michael just saw, but I don’t see anything. I do have the uneasy suspicion that Chase was behind the little boy’s frown, but I’m not for sure. If the demon was in this room, then why? Is he here to make sure I don’t screw up? Why does he care if I do? He won’t be even slightly effected if I come out sounding like a lunatic.
Moments go by before another woman opens the door and calls my name.
“Do you want me to come?” My dad nudges me.
“Uh… no, it’s alright. I’ll be okay.” I smile and grab my crutches.
“Alright, good luck, Alex.” My dad smiles and goes back to reading his magazine.
With a deep breath, I stand my crutches up and follow the woman behind the door. I’m led to an exam room where a nurse checks some basic things and asks some basic questions. I’m left alone for minutes after that; it feels like hours are going by. I can hear shuffling outside, and it’s making me nervous. I just want this to be over with. I finally hear a quiet knock at the door, and then the doctor walks in. We exchange greetings, and I tell the middle-aged man how I’m feeling. I’m honest for the most part. My leg hurts a little; but overall, it doesn’t really feel that bad. It’s the cast that I can’t stand. The doctor laughs and agrees.
