THE STOIC

"What do you think he's waiting for?"

Life is the oldest thief. Uncompromising and cryptic. The cold hand takes without ceasing. It cares not for our feelings. Indifference is the only way to cope. That's how the stoic feels. That's how everyone should feel it seems. That's how he felt anyway. David came to this small, brightly-lit hospital waiting room at the oddest times of the day. It was 2 AM, but we doubt he noticed. He was a good-looking man of average size, never overly fit nor overly fat. However, the stress of living weighed on him much more than usual. He looked further from 30 by the day. David and the two others were the only people there. He sat on the bench close to the entrance while they stood by the other end of the room. Neither had spoken to the other. Neither felt it was necessary.

The unknown pair were two doctors, Ben and Sarah, in shiny white coats. They conversed quietly as David sat in idle gloom. Their voices sounded muffled. But that's not a bother to us, we don't care about them. We only care about David; so did they funny enough. They stared at him on and off during their conversation. What were they saying? Should we care? David didn't. He sat there in a faded olive green sweater, worn-out dark brown trousers, and smeared white running shoes. His right leg jittered non-stop, a nervous habit. Stubble graced his tired face. Why shave? He had no one here to impress. He was all alone as far as he was concerned.

Time passed. It was 2:55 AM now. The room remained the same until a beautiful woman entered. The doctors didn't notice, or maybe they did? Who knows? But David saw her, and she was truly beautiful. Her presence brightened the room. She walked over to the bench, took the seat closest to David, and put her arm around him.

"You look lost. You always look lost when I'm not around," the woman said to him. She had the loveliest voice to him. "What were you thinking about?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"You look tired."

"I'm fine."

He wasn't, "No, you're not. What's the problem?"

"It's nothing."

"You look bothered, and it can't be 'nothing' if it bothers you."

David rubbed the deep sacks under his eyes with his fingertips before he gave a cold reply moments later. "Time."

"What about time bothers you?"

"How even when it's long, it's never enough."

"How do you mean?"

"Everything fades away."

"You worry too much. That's the worst thing about you. We should go out tomorrow. It'd be nice to go somewhere other than here. Wouldn't that be nice?" David didn't answer. "You should go back to work. You've taken so much time off. I'm sure they've missed you."

"I'm fine here."

The stoic remained unchanged. She never knew how to reach David when he got like this. "Smile," she said to him. "I want to see your smile."

"What do I have to smile about?"

"Your life. That's something to smile about."

"I don't know about that. I have nothing."

"You have me."

After a blank moment, he muttered something to her, "I should have been there." She knew what he meant, but she begged him not to bring it up anymore.

"It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have left for work that week."

She drew closer and embraced him, "Don't say that."

"If I had been there with you, during those last few days, I could have carried you down those stairs. We'd still have...we'd still have him. We'd still have our child. Instead, we have a cracked floor and the dead fetus removed from your stomach."

She teared up the more he spoke, "Stop. It's not your fault. You did everything you could."

"Not enough. I should have stayed." Both of them were correct.

"David, look at me," she grabbed him by his face and stared him in the eyes "We're going to be alright. We still have each other. I love you. Okay?"

"I know." David wiped her tears before dropped his head down in her lap. He seemed happier then.

While David laid there, the doctors poured coffee into their cups. Their eyes were still on David.

"What's he doing here?" Sarah asked Ben. We could finally hear their words.

"He's been coming here for a while," Ben answered.

"How often?"

"Every few days. It's been two months now. He always takes the same seat."

"Do you know why he's here?"

"His wife lost their son in a home accident. He's been coming here since."

"Jesus!"

"She fell from the stairs while she was pregnant. We had to dig out the baby."

"Oh, God. What happened to her? Why isn't she here with him?"

"We lost her during the operation."

At that moment, we looked back at the lonely David lying sideways on the bench. There was no one around. It was just him and them, a jarring realization.

"He looks so alone." Sarah continued.

"He has no one left."

"Why does he take that seat?"

"I think that's where he sat down that day."

"Have you talked to him? Offer him some help?"

"I tried to, but he said he was fine. He reminds me of my mother. For 40 years, every time I asked her a personal question all she ever said was 'I'm fine'. She never let anybody in. I wonder how people like them manage?"

Sarah couldn't stop staring at David, not after what she had just learned. If there ever was a defeated man, that was him. "I wonder what he's thinking about?"

"Who knows?" Benjamin took a sip of coffee and asked, "You didn't answer my question."

Sarah was still distracted by the sight of David now whispering to himself, "What?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"What was the question?"

"What do you think he's waiting for?"

"...relief."

"I hope he finds it."

"I hope he does."