The Wait

Bells ringing, phones screaming, heels clicking on marble, stress at an all time high. Thank you’s and Sorry’s being muttered. Calls dropped, the ringing continues.  

“Well there’s nothing I can do, is there!?” A door opens, followed by a shouting voice. “I don’t know what you want from me! Everyone’s already here, I did what I could!” A pause, a scowl etched onto his face, blue eyes dark and cold. A scoff, he pulls the phone from his ear, finger pressing the red button on his screen, a faint voice heard screaming from the other end.

“Tsk!” He turns, glaring at the onlookers, phone calls forgotten as they gaze at the impeccable dressed man, suit pressed, but black hair disheveled, face flushed with anger. Upon his fury directed at them, the other turn, fear floating in their wide eyes, words being muttered. The ringing hasn’t stopped. 

His frown deepens as he storms across the room, shoving the door open, cool air stinging his warm cheeks. Striding to the alley beside the squat structure, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Staring at the white sticks, his brows furrow, a promise to quit ringing in his head. Muttering curses, he pulls one out and places it between his lips, flicking the lighter, the wind stuffs out the flame. Cursing the weather, he turns his back on the cold, clicking the lighter again, a slight flame sprouts, flickering in the cold.

Leaning down, the end of the cigarette glows orange, a thin trail of smoke rising from the tip. Drawing a breath, he exhales, a cloud of poisonous smoke floating away in the breeze. He rubs his temples, eyes screwed shut as a headache builds behind his eyes. He leans against the alley wall, gazing out at the street, the frown still present.

A muffled ringing has him reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone. The screen glows, a name flashing on the surface. His frown deepens. Rolling his eyes he presses “answer” and waits for the call to go through. 

“What?” His voice harsh as his patience wears thin. 

A chuckle. His eyes narrow, suspicion rising. “Just checking in,” a voice says, humor lacing every word. “How’s it going? I heard the news, congratulations.” The smile is palpable as the man over the phone speaks.

“Cut the crap, Robert, what do you really want?” He wastes no time in getting to the point, irritation with his brother only growing.

“What? No more Bobbie?” The man growls. “Aw, and here I was, thinking you finally loosened up.” The voice chuckles again. 

“I’m busy, Robert, I don’t have time for your games,” his fingers press into his temples again, trying to rub away the migraine his brother always manages to cause him. “What do you want? He repeats his question.

“I really did want to check in, Lucy,” the man laughs, clearly amused by his brother’s annoyance.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” His voice is low, temper rising. 

“I know you love it,” another chuckle.

He sighs, “What do you want, Bobbie?”

“Oh, nothing really, just wanted to chat.” The man’s face darkens, his head pounding. He glares at the phone before rolling his eyes and hanging up. 

Clicking the phone off the screen goes dark. Shaking his head he drops the cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out with the heel of his shoe. 

Grumbling, he makes his way back to the building, instantly warming as he steps inside. 

“Any news?” He asks the slight girl seated behind the counter.

She shakes her head timidly, not wanting to anger the man anymore, “No sir, not yet,” her voice comes out a whisper. He nods and takes a seat in one of the many chairs lining the wall. 

Eyes shut, he leans his head on the wall, trying to quiet the throbbing in his head. The sound of phones ringing, lines clicking on only to be hung up, followed by mutterings. More Sorry’s and Thank You’s sounding. 

Leaning forward, he places his elbows on his knees, holding his head between his hands, waiting. 

His phone rings, the sound shrill in the growing silence. His head snaps up, and surging to his feet, he snatches the device from the side table, finger hovering over the pulsing green circle. Pushing the doors open, he steps outside, away from any prying ears and wandering eyes, the cold causing shivers to slide down his spine. Sliding his finger across the screen, he hesitates before placing the cool glass to his ear, a breathless “yes?” leaving his lips.

“Hey,” comes a quiet voice, worry lingering in the word. They clear their throat, “Hey, we’re on our way.”

The man lets the breath he didn't know he had been holding out, the breath fogging in the air, a pale cloud lingering momentarily as his shoulders slump with relief. “Oh, thank god,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” the voice trembles, “We just got caught up and you know how traffic is in the city.” The person on the other line sniffles, trying to keep their fragile composure.

“Hey, hey,” the man says, voice soft and comforting, “It’s alright, it’s not your fault. Don’t cry, it’s alright.” For the first time that day, a smile tugs at his lips, glad to be hearing from the one person that can sooth his aches. 

Another sniffle. “Okay,” they say, voice calmer, more leveled. 

“Okay,” the man repeats, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

A smile can be heard, the joy palpable in the singular word, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says again, “I love you, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know,” they say. Then, a pause, and muffled murmerings. “Sorry, I got to go, we’re almost there. I’ll see you soon.” And the call clicked off.

The man stared at his phone, the name going dark. He nodded to himself, looking out into the street, watching the occasional car pass by, not many people come this far out, the city a few miles back down the road. 

Glancing down the street one last time, he nods again before going back in. The few still lingering look at him, a question in their eyes. He smiles, head typing forward slightly. 

“Let’s head on in and get this wedding started.”