The Long Wait

To both men in the waiting room, it felt like they had been waiting for an eternity. Both sat in chairs that were made of wicker that hugged their bodies in all the wrong ways. Each time either moved to ease their discomfort, deafening creaks could be heard and rendered both men to tolerate the pain to avoid social discomfort.

The room was dreary. With pale walls and bland furniture, it made the waiting seem like torture to the men.

One of the men wore a crisp, black suit. He had a gel slicked comb over and an angry disposition. His cold eyes often met with his watch on his wrist for his brow to furrow further than it had the previous time he'd checked. His leg bounced at a rapid pace that he seemed unaware of. By his feet, a leather briefcase sat.

The other had a ragged pair of jeans and was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. Brown hair surrounded his head like a lion's mane and covered most of his tired eyes. His expression was pale and anxious of every force around him. If someone came to touch his shoulder, he seemed as though he'd jump five feet.

It seemed as though their waiting time would only consist of an awkward silence, painful wicker chairs, and a lost sense of time passing, until the second man spoke.

"Do you know how long it'll be?" He stammered as his left foot began to tap the floor.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be here."

"Oh, sorry," he replied, preparing to sink into silence again.

"You seem nervous, my friend."

The second man met eyes with the first, he was lighting a cigarette and seemed to calm down significantly after taking a slow drag from it.

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"How come?"

The first man looked around the waiting room, then back at the other man and offered him a cigarette. The other man seemed hesitant, even intimidated, by the offer. After a few moments though, he accepted. He took it between his lips and lit it after several tries. He took a short, puffy drag that ended in a coughing fit. After he regained himself, the first man responded.

"I've been here so many times that they don't even ask me to sign in anymore. I'm sure you've heard the name Louis Vauser before, yes?" He smirked with a twinkle in his once cold eyes.

"As in Vauser Automobiles?"

Jack knew this was a multi-million dollar company. Surely, this could not be the owner of that same company.

"Indeed, the very same," Louis shrugged with a false modesty.

"I'm Jack Till. A name you've probably never heard of before, Mr. Vauser," he replied nervously and offered his hand to shake.

Louis grinned and held up a hand in protest, but not to accept his handshake.

"Oh, please. Call me Louis, I am no superior to you," he insisted, even though his demeanor and glimmer in his eyes throughout his introduction seemed to tell the opposite.

Jack put his outstretched hand back into his pocket and retreated back into his chair. He had a sinking feeling. A pang of rejection and being treated as less worthy than another.

"Is your girl in there?" Louis asked as he took a final inhale from a stub of a cigarette.

Solemnly, Jack nodded.

"I'm assuming by your wreckish appearance that this is your first time here," he put out the cigarette in a nearby ash tray on a stand that held bland magazines about housekeeping and weight loss.

"Hopefully, the last," he answered.

"Oh, don't be like that, Till. Man shouldn't be held back from his desires for reasons that we are waiting in this room. Man should be free to act on his nature. We are mammals after all."

Jack smiled and nodded even though he didn't believe what he was being told.

"Is your girl in there?" Jack asked nervously, knowing he never referred to a woman as someone else's.

"One of them is," Louis joked and let out a hearty laugh.

Jack laughed as well, a discomforted one at that.

Before they could continue their conversation, the receptionist opened a door near her office that let out a young woman. She was a beautiful brunette with curled hair, red lips, and a tight fitting dress. She had green eyes that were brimmed with tears and pink cheeks to show that she had been crying for some time. The lady turned to the front desk and wrote something down on the sign in sheet, presumably her name, which the receptionist revealed was Daisy.

Louis stood and straightened his jacket in one motion, waiting again. Daisy walked with poise to Louis and stopped in front of her, her glassy eyes widening as she looked at him. He offered her a sly smirk that intended more than could be deciphered as he placed a hand on the small of her back. Jack noticed she was squirming and keeping most of her body to herself and rarely touched Louis. He wondered how uncomfortable she was. He wanted to help her. Before he could, Louis and Jack met eyes and spoke again.

"Good luck, friend." He nodded and left.

As Louis left, the door opened again to reveal another woman. She had messy blonde hair, similar clothing to Jack, and was sobbing. Jack rushed over to her in a panic and clutched his sobbing wife in a tender embrace. His wife, Mary, was choking on her tears and she hid all of her face into her husband. There was a type of feeling that radiated from these two. Whether it was a bond that people could only dream of or a real understanding for one another, it could never be broken ever. They were everything a real love between two people should be.

"It's okay. This was for the best and it doesn't mean we can't try again."

As the two walked out, arm in arm, Mary stared back at the building and sighed. The sign read "Heavenside Health Abortion Clinic."