One Afternoon in a Physical Therapy Waiting Room

One Afternoon in a Physical Therapy Waiting Room

“Excuse me, Miss, could you hand me one of those magazines?”

“Which one?”

“I don’t think it matters. They’re all a year old.”

The old man laughed and the young girl smiled. Personal connections have been born of less, but none had bridged so many years. Fate has an interesting way of bringing people together, even the very old and the very young, and sometimes in the most surprising of places.

“You are going to dramatically affect the average age of the clientele here, young lady. You could bring it down below 100.”

Another smile.

“Oh, you’re not a hundred.”

“No, some days I just feel like it. Let me tell you, the Golden Years aren’t all what they’re cracked up to be. My theory is if I just keep moving, I’ll stay alive. These people can work wonders, kind of like a good car mechanic can keep your old car running. That’s why I come here.”

Even at her young age, she understood. The remark was flippant, but she perceived the subtle sadness in the tone. She saw the whole picture, a man in his declining years accepting the fate that awaits all of us.

“I’m a veritable smorgasbord of ailments for my physical therapist- neck, left shoulder, right shoulder, upper back, lower back, legs, ankles. I think I could be in some sort of Physical Therapy Hall of Fame.”

“Does it help?”

“It keeps me going. I worry that someday they’ll just give up on me. If it isn’t one thing, it’s the other. My brother says if I come here one day, and a guy in a white coat with a rifle asks me to step outside, don’t go with him.”

Maggie laughed.

“Oh, stop it. I don’t think you have to worry about that. I’m here because I’m a klutz.”

“You don’t look like a klutz. What happened?”

“Double overtime game against West. I had a breakaway, made a move, and stepped on the ball. Sprained my knee and we lost the game. Worst thing that could ever happen in my entire life.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

The old man’s turn to smile.

“That’s not the worst thing that’s going to happen to you in your lifetime. But I understand. I still agonize over a football game I played in almost 50 years ago.”

“What happened?”

“League Championship Game, late in the 4th quarter, we were up by three. I went for the interception, missed it, and the guy walked into the end zone. I still beat myself up for it.”

The young girl was mature well beyond her age. She studied the weathered figure before her, grey hair, slumped posture, the trail of a hard life easy to track across his face.

“You played football in high school?”

“And college. I loved it, every minute of it… until I blew my knee out. Dropped out of school and went to work. Hard work but it paid the bills. But I remember those games. Oh, how I remember those games. That’s one of the problems with growing old. Your body falls apart, but your mind still lingers in the past. I keep thinking of myself the way I was and not the way I am.”

The old man smiled.

“There could be a movie title in that, ‘The Way I Was’ starring Frank Larson. I think I’m on to something.”

“I’d go see it… Mr. Larson.”

Frank took note of the girl’s proper upbringing.

“Thank you, but you can call me Frank. And I’m sorry, your name is…?”

“Maggie, Maggie Marshall. I’m a Junior at Jefferson.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Maggie. And how’s the knee doing?”

“They’re working on it. I’m hoping I’ll be ready for basketball next year. I think I’m making good progress. You’re right. These people are great.” ”

“Soccer and basketball? That’s impressive. You must be quite the athlete.”

“I try. Right now my biggest worry is Prom is coming up. I don’t want to be out on the dance floor moving around like Herman Munster.”

Frank laughed.

“Athletic, polite, and a sense of humor. Good for you.”

Frank’s mind skipped a beat. Prom. He remembered.

“Marcie was the most beautiful girl in the old gym that night, and I was the luckiest guy.”

The sparkle in Frank’s eyes drew Maggie in. She was right back in the old gym with him.

“She wore a simple light blue dress with a little frilling thing on one shoulder. She didn’t need anything too fancy. Nothing could have made her more beautiful than she already was.”

Maggie was touched by Frank’s tone and his vacant stare off into nowhere. His heartfelt memory of a moment so long ago nearly brought a tear to her eye.

“She… Marcie… must have been beautiful.”

“Yes, she was. You have her eyes, Maggie, and that little curl in her hair, just like Marcie. But most of all her smile, just the hint of a happy twitch at the corner of her mouth."

“ Were you together long?”

“Through high school. We went to different colleges, a thousand miles apart. Like they say, we drifted apart.”

Just seventeen, yet she spoke her mind. The topic was one that is often on the minds of teenage girls.

“Did you love her?”

“Yeah, I loved her. I still do.”

This was tough stuff for a 17-year-old to hear, especially from a stranger. The purpose of her visit, rehab for her knee, was no longer on her mind.

“You still love her… after all these years?”

“Love doesn’t understand time. It’s kind of like the color of your eyes. It can’t change. Let me guess. Are you in love with the guy taking you to Prom?”

It was the way he said it,matter of fact with a tinge of sarcasm. She was almost embarrassed to say it.

“Uh… it feels like it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Is he a good guy?”

“I think he’s the best. My parents don’t want me to go steady, but there’s no one else I want to go out with. They keep telling me I need to meet other people.”

“Tell your parents you don’t need to get to the end of the aisle to choose.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s not like the County Fair where you check out all the cattle and pick out the best of the lot. You’ll know it when you see.”

“Know what?”

“Love. If you find it, hang on tight and never let it go. Your guy doesn’t have to measure up to anyone else. Of course, there’s the flip side.”

“What’s that?”

“How does he feel about you?”

Now the mother of all smiles… surrounded by red cheeks.

“He says he loves me, but it’s not what Charlie says. It’s how he treats me, how he acts when we’re together. I know he loves me.”

“He should love you. You’d be quite a catch. Charlie’s a lucky fellow.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Maggie looked at the magazine still in her hand, a year old just like Frank said. She felt the significance of the moment. She was baring her heart and soul to a man she had just met, and it all seemed so comfortable.

“And you… Frank, did you ever find another Marcie?”

Frank’s head dropped.

“It doesn’t happen that way, Maggie. Did you ever read anything by Lord Byron in school?”

“I’ve heard of him, but no.”

“He was one of those old oddball English poets. He said something like, ‘In her first passion, a woman loves her lover. In all others all she loves is love.’ I think it applies to men as well.”

“Meaning?”

“Many people settle. They may have passed on that first love, their true love, but in the end, people don’t want to be alone. They want a partner, children, to be in love. They settle for the best available.”

“Kind of like Mel Kiper on NFL draft day.”

“Wow! You really are something, Maggie. Mel Kiper’s Best Available. You are a sports nut. And that is a great analogy.”

“That actually sounds a little depressing, Frank.”

“Sad but true. Many men and women seeking love will find it whether it’s there or not. Love of the Wesley and Buttercup variety may have escaped them, but they’ll adjust their sights and settle for the comfortable, in some cases even the barely tolerable. It is not good for man to be alone, so like the song says, ‘Everybody finds somebody someday.’ If you’ve found love, stop looking. It’s the falling star you need to catch and put in your pocket.”

Maggie came in with a sore knee. Within minutes, her mind was measuring words of aged wisdom about one of the most critical components of the human condition- love.

“How do you know all this, Frank?”

“Sometimes you learn things just by being around for so many years, but in my case, I’ve been there. I beat myself up more times for letting Marcie slip away than I do for giving up that touchdown. I feel like maybe I can help you.”

“I think you already have. Did you ever marry?”

“No, I could never find the right person. I dated, went out with a number of women, fine women, but I never met another knock-your-socks-off, forget-to-breathe, eyes pop out when you see her in her Prom dress girl. And once you’ve experienced it, it’s hard to live without it. I couldn’t.”

Suddenly, Maggie felt she was now a therapist, but words were hard to come by. She felt for the elderly stranger and muttered the only thing that came to mind.

“I’m sorry.”

And then the curiosity of the young.

“Where is Marcie now? Did you ever try to find her?”

Maggie wasn’t extracting information. Frank was going to a place where he wanted to go.

“No, I was afraid I’d find her. It would have hurt to see her happy with someone else. And I wouldn’t want her to see me like I am now, you know, old, kind of falling apart.”

Maggie laughed.

“Frank, I’m guessing she got old, too.”

“Not in my mind. I guess that’s part of it. I feel good sometimes just thinking about her in that Prom dress. I want her to stay that way.”

Frank’s physical therapist entered the waiting room.

“I’m ready for you, Frank,”

Frank got up and slowly walked across the room. When he got to the door, he turned back toward his new friend.

“Maggie, would it be ok if I stopped by the high school the night of your Prom? I’d like to see you in your Prom dress.”

“I’d like that, Frank. I’d be pleased if you would.”

“Thank you, Maggie, thank you.”

Frank nodded his head, and Maggie smiled. The connection was sealed.