Permanent Stay

"I'm waiting here for you."

"What a coincidence. I was too."

That is the last line I expected to hear that would lead to a union. Yet today is my wedding day, so I know it to be true. Here I am donned in a long white gown, pearls around my neck, and a Victorian-style veil. It's nearly time to walk down the aisle, and my heart is starting to beat faster. My father looks at me with such love in his eyes as he takes my arm in his.

"Are you ready, Darling?"

When I first saw you, it was undoubtedly my darkest hour. My father was gravely ill in the hospital, and I was sitting that dreadful waiting room. The doctors told me I could not be in his hospital room for the procedure, so I found myself in the waiting room. You were just a seat apart from me, but I'm sure a world away in your thoughts. You fumbled with the edge of your camel-colored pants and mumbled, "…How long now?" You look over to the clock on the wall before looking back down. "…I wish I knew," I replied softly.

He looked up at me surprised, only now realizing I heard him. Even now, I do not know what compelled me to answer him. Maybe it was a tiredness in his face? Eyes dull and gray, with hope fleeting from them every second. The lines in his face so thin, fragile, and detailed drip down to his shoes. I am unsure, but I'm happy that I did. I looked away embarrassed for a split second, and then I looked him straight in the eyes. I forced out a small smile, and he nodded apologetically. "…I'm sorry." "Don't be. It is easy to be uneasy in this place. This chair's not helping." I squirm uncomfortably as my real thoughts come spilling out. He lets out a tired laugh and pats the seat in-between us. "That's the third-worst one. Pretty sure it has splinters. Come over here." I look at it skeptically, but I scoot over. Still hard, but better.

"Third worse one? You must be an unfortunate regular here," I say, failing to hide my astonishment. "Something like that. I come here longer than I want to admit," he replies with a sigh. Silence fills the air again, and more people started to flood in. The silence is slowly replaced with whispers and hushed voices. We should probably be glad we were not privy to these discussions. I'm not sure what his game was at the time, but he looked back at the clock before starting a long conversation with me. I do not remember all the details, nor how long it took, but the world around us continued to move.

I did not stop talking until the nurse tapped me on my shoulder. I excused myself and swiftly followed her to my father's room. I never asked your name or why you were here. This place was too depressing to pry, I told myself. I would never see you again, I told myself. I did not realize how not alone I had felt in that moment until I found myself all alone again in my father's room. He was sleeping soundly, which left me with my thoughts of you.

Who knew I would see you a week from now on the train? As per usual, I boarded the train to visit my father in the hospital. The train was packed to the brim, like sardines, with people who looked depressed. Monotony is their mistress, and coffee is their savior. I stared out of the window behind you when I happen to look down and meet gray eyes peering over from a newspaper. You looked just as surprised as I am but give me a slight smile and nod. I did the same. I got off first and did not get to see where you went. Just another chance encounter, as I head about my day.

An hour later, I run into you in the waiting room. Two days later, the marketplace. I was looking around feverishly to find ripe apples for my pie. You casually hand me the last one with that slight smile I'm starting to grow fond of. It's never too long before I run into you again, and chance encounters are beginning to become routine visits. I even look forward to seeing you every Wednesday in the hospital! Like clockwork, you appear at eight-thirty sharp and stay until six in the evening. The people around us must think we are old friends, or worse yet, family, and I am almost sure the hospital staff thinks we're crazy. Two strangers are chatting it up about the President, past loves, and the best place in town for your morning coffee and donut. We carry on this routine for another month or two before my father is discharged. I know I was supposed to be happy, and I was, but I didn't want our meetings to end. Not yet.

Throughout our meetings, I had slowly started to weave together your story. Pendleton. Just shy of thirty. You used to be a reporter. You completed college by the skin of your teeth. The red scarf you wear almost every day is the last memento you have of your mother. You love it, ragged or not. Checkers if your favorite game, but you are awful at it. You are practically penniless and without parents. Your smile, real smile, can light up a room. A half-smile means, "I'm still standing." There is a hint of a British accent, mixed with something else when you call out "Donovan, Love." I want to learn more. There's more here underneath your camel trousers, curly chestnut hair, and vehement hatred of plaid.

So, although I have no reason to be there, I returned to the hospital. It is not Wednesday, so it was a longshot, but I boarded the train you sadly were not on and made my way there. Making up excuses to the nurses who ask why I'm there, I patiently await your arrival. Although it's not Wednesday, and I didn't ask you if you would be here today…I'm so glad you are. My heart skipped a beat, although I am just now realizing it. You sit down beside me with a smile broader than usual. We converse, as per usual, letting the world pass us by. Finally, after all of this time, I feel comfortable enough to ask the million-dollar question: "…What are you waiting here for Pendleton? I've told you about my father, but you have never said who you are waiting for in here."

He blinks a few times and looks away for a couple of seconds. His face goes back and forth between worried, slightly ashamed, and embarrassed. He looks back at me with a blush spreading across his face. "Alright, you caught me. My younger sister was in here sick for several months now. She was discharged this morning. So currently…right in this moment…I'm waiting here for you." I'm not sure how my face looked, but it wasn't what he was expecting. I stare for a few seconds, then let out a small laugh. My face went red. Chance encounter after encounter has led to this moment. "What a coincidence. I was too."

He looks at me, confused. "My Father was discharged yesterday. I was just hoping…to see you here again today. I'm glad the feeling is mutual, Pendleton." He smiles. A warm, genuine smile. "Alexander. My sister and my friends call me Xander." I smile back at him. "Xander…" It rolls off my tongue so naturally. "You know…this will sound strange, Donovan, but I have been calling you Donna in my head for short. May I have the pleasure of knowing what your friends call you?"

I laugh at this. Never once had I been given a nickname. It's been a wonderful experience. "April. I never liked my name much, especially since my birthday is on April Fool's day. Keep calling me Donna, Xander." He laughs, and his body completely relaxes. The blush has faded, but there are subtle hints of its continued existence in his complexion. He gets up quickly and offers his arm to me. "Donna, I don't have much. But if you will allow it, may I take you to the diner? Let's expand our horizons outside of this waiting room, yeah?" I smile and take his arm.

I will do so again today. We have gone dancing and eaten at many more diners. Xander compliments my writing and actively supports my pursuit of being an author. I managed to get him a new job through friends I know in the journalism field. His sister, Delilah, is a newfound light in my life with her youthful optimism. My father praises Xander up and down the square daily. The small ripples we have made in one another's life is truly profound. The greatest proof of that is not the ring on my finger, but how I got you to stop hating plaid with the dress I wore on our second date.

I digress. I am just stalling the inevitable. No more. So now, I will return to reality and face my father's question:

"Are you ready, Darling?"

"Since the day after you left the hospital."

"I never thought I'd say this…but thank God I got sick."

From today onward…we will be Alexander 'Xander' Pendleton and April 'Donna' Pendleton. It has certainly been worth the wait.