Suspense

The clock on the blue wall is ticking signalling the hours the minutes and the seconds passing. The lady to my left is sleeping or should I say passed out from exhausting from trying to handle 3 kids. The man to my right is coughing into his hand to not let anyone inhale his molecules of bacteria. I’m sitting in my chair biting my nails and staring at the ceiling.

From where I am sitting the ceiling and the walls aren’t looking too bad, but upon closer inspection you can see the mould on the walls and the cracks of the years of the building. The lady in reception duty is staring at the clock like I did a few seconds ago, probably waiting for the minutes to past. Her brown bob angled tight around her heart shaped face. When she catches my eyes she quickly grabs a paper and attempts to be busy with something.

I smile.

The three children one laying on the floor and the others playing on the chairs is persistent to grab attention… from anyone. Their mouths full of “fling” chips and their t-shirt covered tummies full of drool. I sigh. I hope Sue weren’t right.

I look at my hands.

The years of hard work at the diner has really ruined my beautiful model like hands. I catch a glance of myself in the mirror opposite from the receptionist.

My hair in a tight bun above my head curly as usually, but more brownish today seems dull. My eyes filled with sadness, but yet there seems to be a bit of a flare in them. I shake my hair loose and attempt to tie it up in a ponytail then the receptionist stands up and calls a name. Out of haste I just make a messy bun and assume my normal waiting stance.

“Mr Bonytol”

The man to my right stands up coughs again into his hand and reach for his cane. He begins the journey to the doctor’s office.

I watch the man walk with effort to see the doctor before he enters he looks back and smile at me. I seem to be the only one that noticed and take that smile as an illusion rather than reality.

The lady to my left suddenly stirs awake when one of her children pokes her with a piece of crayon. I smile meekly at her only to annoy her even more and to let her move her chair further away from me.

The receptionist hearing the commission of the chair suddenly looks up gives me a look and continues with her staring work.

I look to the ceiling and to the doctor’s office, the clock on the wall reads 4:30. That means the office closes at approximately half an hour. Meaning I would either just be in time to see the doctor or have to come back tomorrow. Thinking of another day filled with questions, statements and accusations the nauseating feeling in my throat comes back.

I quickly stand up careful not to make too much of a noise , but just enough so that the receptionist can look up. She sees my hand on my mouth and motions to the bathroom. With a quick run like motion I walk to the bathroom to spill my guts. There in the toilet lay my dinner. I haven’t eaten today yet and if Sue were to hear this she would probably give me a lecture. After puking my gut I wash my hands and attempt to make myself more humanlike meaning more approachable.

I think back to the previous two weeks.

Tuesday my boyfriend broke up with me. That night we went to a bar and I hooked up with a random stranger. Stupid right? Then I cried my guts out some more and a few days past and I felt strange. Sue said I was probably pregnant and she only meant to make a joke at that time, but then we both clicked that that may be true when we shared the same look. I cried some more and then Sue took control and arranged my appointment. Now I’m at the doctor’s waiting room.

11 minutes past 4 the receptionist calls the lady with the three kids the lady only looks at me and give me a dirty look then looks to the kids and smile. I am so not approachable I think and attempt to go to the bathroom yet again to make myself more approachable.

Just as I’m about to stand up another doctor calls the receptionist and the receptionist motion towards me.

“Mrs Lucinda Brooke please come to my office, your friend called in to let me know the situation.”

He then motions to my stomach.

Out of pure evilness the receptionist just widens her eyes and looks me up and down.

The doctor seeing this puts his hand behind my back and motions me to his office.

“Any symptoms that may suggest your pregnant … uhhh…”

He looks at the file with my details

“Mrs Lucinda?”

I blush bright red and attempt to tell him about that day, but then thought it be best to not go in any detail and just tell him the simpler answer.

“Just nausea”

He looks at me smiles and writes something down then motions for me to lie on the bed.

“I will apply this jelly –lie substance to your tummy to see if there is a foetus inside.”

I just nod to the doctor.

…

As I drive home from the doctor now approximately 15 minutes before 5 I think about all the complications a kid could have brought in my life. I only 19 and I’m not ready to be a mother, although my friends say I would make a great mother I disagree now. I need to be more safer and I need to control my emotions and my wellbeing first, o and watch what I eat especially from takeaway places , because I now have food poising.