She hated this.
The door remained closed.
She stared out onto the flat black letters stenciled on the frosted glass that read:
She knew his round little face was bouncing behind those huge glasses of his somewhere in the next room. Waiting was the worst part. The insignificant decor of the standing lamp. The old magazines strewn over the coffee table by people who didn’t give a shit. The happy little artwork on the walls: That cat saying “Hang in there!”, the sailboat poster in the corner. Everything was a distraction from whatever people had come here for. This was a place no one wanted to be. The smiling faces on the brochures for Alzheimer’s or Skin Cancer sickened her. She hated it.
How could that cat “hanging in there” on the wall possibly take her mind away from that one word. That word that returned over and over in her mind. The illness, the thing that had taken her as it’s home. That word that spread sadness and pity faster than any disease or or infection could. How could the magazines about last year’s Emmy Awards make her feel any less damaged, afflicted, subhuman. Bitterly she stared at the frosted glass, awaiting for the moment that the perky nurse would open it and call her name like nothing was wrong. They were distractions too, their small talk, like she needed to be pandered to.
She sat on the deflated cushion of the ridged chair along with the other empty chairs in silence. Her eyes wandered to the poster of the small sailboat, it’s huge sail billowing with wind going out into a vast ocean, glittering with sunlight.
“Nothing but a distraction.” she thought.
As her eyes looked over the poster in the corner, the side of the picture in shadow revealed that one side of the sky was dark and crumpled. The ocean was black and ominous, she even made out the thin white stalk of a lightning bolt in the clouds. The boat was alone and being tilted by the waves. On either side of it was fate. The glittering waters or the lightning lay before her. The moment stretched on as she took the poster in, perhaps more than any piece of artwork she had seen, perhaps more than any picture had tried to demonstrate to her.
It would be far better to sail into the bright sky and the glittering ocean than to accept the approaching storm. Perhaps that hang in there cat was what she needed far more than the doubt that plagued her mind. The alternative would be a life insurance advertisement. Or perhaps very concerned doctors on the Alzheimer’s pamphlets looking worried.
However horrible the world she was stuck in was. Whatever word that was that pounded through her brain, she needed to be reminded. That other things were occurring and continuing in the world. That works far greater than her were performing around her.
That Hope is never a distraction.
The door opened, “Ms. Deller” said the perky nurse.