Number 52 Please

“Number 27 please”

I looked down automatically. I knew my number wasn’t 27. I knew it was 52, almost twice 27. Every time that voice came over the speaker, announcing a new number, I still couldn’t help but look down to see if that number had somehow, magically, made it’s way onto my slip of paper. It hadn’t this time, just as it hadn’t the previous five times that I had heard a number and looked down.

I looked around. I wanted to see number 27 get up and go through the door, but nobody did. There definitely weren’t enough people in the room for each of them to have a slip between 27 and 52. Some of them had come in after me, so their numbers had to be more than 52. There were maybe a dozen people, counting me. Sorry, there were exactly 13 people, I had counted them 3 times now. I just didn’t want you to think I was the type of person to obsessively count the other people waiting to have their numbers called.

I had to be careful counting people. If you look at anyone too long they think you’re creepy, or else they think you want to talk to them. I definitely did not want to talk to any of them. I just wanted to count them and see them go through the door so I could know that I was closer to going through the door myself. Out of the five numbers that had been called so far three of them had inspired people to get up and go through the door.

The second person had been the most interesting person in the room, with a head half shaved and the other half decorated with spikes each dyed a different color. I wasn’t sure if they were a boy or a girl, could be neither or both nowadays I suppose. When I had looked at them they had looked right back, with a very direct gaze from eyes that didn’t match. One dark brown, the other clear blue. The look wasn’t a glare really, more just that they knew they were interesting to look at, and they wanted to see who was doing the looking. I don’t know if their eyes were naturally that color or if they were wearing contacts. I didn’t ask, or say anything to them, and I suppose now most likely I never will. They left a candy wrapper when they went through the door. An interesting looking litterbug.

I started counting again. A woman, probably in her mid thirties, saw me look at her as I counted her (number 7) and held my eyes just long enough for me to be able to tell that she had noticed and that she wasn’t comfortable with me looking at her. I looked away, but I couldn’t help but look back, and when I did she was definitely glaring. That made me look down, but I was afraid I had lost count and when I looked back up she wasn’t the only one looking at me. A man who was older than the woman, maybe around 50, was looking from her to me. He looked like he’d caught me peeking up her skirt or something. She wasn’t even wearing a skirt. She was wearing a worn and faded pair of jeans but he still looked at me like I’d been somehow peeking through them at her and he didn’t approve of the sort of person that I was.

“Number 28 please”

This time someone did get up. Not the woman who didn’t like me looking at her, not the man who I didn’t like looking at me, just one more person who had been sitting in the room. A younger person who had been reading a book and looked almost surprised that their number had been called already. I watched them go through the door enviously and thought that maybe if I had brought a book I wouldn’t spend so much of my time looking at people I really didn’t want to have look back. The man was still looking at me. I don’t think he liked how I looked at the person who went through the door either. I didn’t look back at him, well, not anymore than I had to to see that he was looking at me. I leaned back and closed my eyes and pretended that I was trying to take a nap.

I opened my eyes when the door opened and another person came in. A very fat person. They went up to the number dispenser and got a number. I watched them, until I saw that man looking at me again. I looked away at the wall and hoped he wasn’t looking any longer. At least he hadn’t said anything. Nobody had said anything yet, aside from the speaker calling out numbers. I suppose that was to be expected really, we all had our own reasons for being here and none of them were anyone else’s business. I glanced back to see if the man was still looking at me but he was looking at the new person as they settled into a seat.

I looked down at my number. It hadn’t turned into 29. I suppose the speaker could call out 52. That was probably more likely than the number on my paper changing. It still wasn’t very likely but it was more pleasant to think about than thinking about where to look so that nobody would look back at me.

“Number 29 please”

The number on my paper was still 52. Nobody went through the door this time. I glanced at the man who didn’t like me, hoping maybe he was number 29. If he was he didn’t seem to know it because he was looking at the floor by his feet, not at his paper. I resisted glancing at the woman who didn’t like me looking at her. I could tell she wasn’t number 29 though, because she hadn’t gone through the door. Except maybe she was about to because she just got up.

She wasn’t walking toward the door though, she was walking toward me. I didn’t look at her face, just at her feet. She sat down, right next to me. She put a piece of paper on my leg. I looked at it. I looked at her. She smiled, and nodded. The paper said “30”. I looked down at it, then at the paper in my hand. I moved my hand over by her, not on her leg though. She took my piece of paper with “52” on it. I took the piece of paper from my leg with “30” on it.

“Number 30 please.”