Questions [2]

Nothing is more anxiety-inducing to watch than Ethan frantically pacing the aisle of the medical centre’s waiting room. It smells like rubbing alcohol and air freshener in here, but it isn’t bothering me as much as he is. His footsteps are out of time against the metronome of the circular, mauve clock hanging on the pastel wall. My eyes frequently go back to it –the peeling wall paint. It makes this place feel duller than it already is. Ethan crosses my sight again, constantly causing me to lose focus on simple thoughts.

I don’t understand why he’s so worried. I woke up in the passenger’s seat of his car, to the sound of the engine shutting off. He’d brought me here. He didn’t explain why we had come. He’s terrible at explaining things.

There aren’t many people here waiting to be seen by the doctors. Half the room is filled with people who have caught the common cold. I know I don’t have a cold, but I’m sniffling anyway. I obviously would. I got soaked in the rain.

I slouch into the hard plastic chair, folding my arms and rolling my eyes. For the hundredth time, Ethan turns to me to ask me if I’m okay. He’s been fidgeting like a restless two year old, nagging me for answers. “Tell me again what you remember,” he says. His emerald eyes are beckoning. Wild sparks ignite inside me when I look at him. Seeing the worry in his eyes only makes me feel guilty for not being able to tell him what he wants to hear.

“For the last time,” I say, “I’ve told you everything I remember, Eth. I remember being hit. Hard. I remember Macy screaming. I remember the rain. I remember someone shouting my name a few times. I wondered if I was going to die. That’s it. You’re not being very helpful by leaving me in the dark. The least you could do is tell me what happened. You’re beyond worried. You look like you’re going to have a panic attack any time now.”

He looks at me again with those indescribably mesmerising eyes. They can cure Cancer. They could start a war. They could do anything –whatever he wants them to. Whatever he feels, he shows. No one is more capable of candidness than he. His eyes give everything away. They’re the gateway to the soul of his emotions.

I can see a tinge of guilt glowing from inside him. Disappointment. Fear.

I wonder why he’s so upset.

A nurse in a perfectly pressed uniform enters the waiting room. She’s got a tattoo of a deer, poorly covered with concealer, foundation and powder, on the side of her neck. I had done a similar tattoo for someone a few months ago. I created my own design.

The pretty brunette nurse tells us that the doctor will see us now. Ethan walks behind me, keeping a hand on my back. Occasionally I sense him turning back to take a scope of the room.

We come before a middle-aged man with a pair of broken, circular lenses, scribbling busily in a book he has pressed inside a binder. He looks up, his glasses shifting on his exaggeratedly-bridged nose. He recognises Ethan. Ethan recognises him. The man smiles.

“Nine-O-Two,” says the doctor.

“Caesar,” Ethan says, stepping forward to greet him.

“Nine-O-Two?” I ask, raising a brow.

“Caesar, this is my best friend, Faye. Faye, this is Dr Caesar. I’ve known him for a very long time.”

I smile awkwardly at Dr Caesar. “I’m Faye. Fialka. Ethan’s best friend. We work together at the tattoo parlour.”

“Ah, Jude…” Caesar begins, but hesitates. He wanted to say something. He didn’t. “Jude and I are well acquainted as well,” he says. “She’s still the boss there, right?” He asks, awkwardly.

“Yea,” I say, slightly suspicious. “She is.”

“That’s lovely,” he says, changing the topic. “What are you in for, today?” He gestures to the seat before me. I sit. Ethan stands beside me and folds his arms, still fidgety.

He frowns. “There was an incident at the shop this evening and Faye doesn’t... she doesn’t remember much of anything that happened.”

I turn to Dr Caesar. He fixes his glasses and stares at Ethan in a disapproving manner. “I don’t suppose today’s awfully bleak weather had anything to do with that,” he says, “Did it?”

Ethan scratches the back of his head, nervous.

I don’t understand.

What does the weather have to do with anything?

“Okay. What do you remember?” Caesar asks me.

“Nothing much. Nothing helpful.”

“Do you want to do a check up to make sure everything else is in order before Ethan explains what happened?” He asks me, as if he already knows what happened.

“I think you should,” Ethan replies, quickly.

I laugh, turning from Eth to the doc. “Ethan is terrible at explaining things. He couldn’t tell me what was wrong before, I doubt he’ll be able to tell me now.”

Caesar laughs. “I’ve had my fair share of his inability to communicate these kinds of problems. Don’t worry. I know him well enough. We can get it out of him together. After all, I do believe you know your best friend better than others would. You seem to have a very keen eye for seeing what others fail to see.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Ethan asks me.

“Does he have to?” I ask the doctor.

“Well, it’s not a problem. It’s up to you, really.”

I think about it. I smirk. I turn to the tall man beside me. “Do you think your nervousness will get the better of you if you stay?” Ethan is like a tower compared to me; a fit six-foot-two. When I look up at him, the light from behind him makes me squint and settle for his silhouette.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he decides.”Call me if you need me. I’ll be outside.”

I shrug.