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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

why is evelyn so judgemental to everyone she meets? maybe she's been through more than she wants to lead on. take a trip into evelyn's mind as she waits in the emergency waiting room.

Submitted: December 10, 2017

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Submitted: December 10, 2017



Laughter? Huh, that's an odd thing to hear; it may be a ubiquitous sound but it's just not something I'd expect in such a dark place like this. Where's it coming from? I turn my head. A girl, sitting across from me, maybe ten years old, maybe less, in a bright yellow raincoat, sitting criss-cross on the chair. She’s surprisingly calm. Is she too young to understand?

Sitting right beside her is an older girl, brown hair, and a red sweater; she must be twice the little girl’s age.  

“Hey, Hey, Suki. Are you excited to meet your new baby sister?” she says, with an underlying giddiness in her voice. The little girl moves a little bit closer to the other and nods her head excitedly. Clearly, she’s comfortable around her.

“Suki,” I accidentally say out loud, but thankfully it's not loud enough for them to hear. There's some type of curiosity mixed seamlessly with in my voice but I don't quite know why. Maybe--

Ploof. To the left of me, I hear the sound of someone sitting next to me. I attempt to look over without them noticing. Out of the corner of my eye, I just see this dude is sitting millimeters away; i.e. way too close.

I decided to sit on a chair that was connected to four others in a straight line, making something that resembled a bench. I sat at one end, and at the other sat a little old lady, not bothering a fly. There were quite a few seats available, five, unless you could tolerate more...annoying movements and sounds. I wouldn't have wanted to sit next to them either.

There are two other chairs but no, no you have to pick the one right next to me, unbelievable. I roll my eyes, brush my hand through my hair, and quietly scootch over a hair at a time until I knock into the armrest at the right end of my chair. No one can bother me. I pull my phone out of my back pocket to distract myself.

I only get ten minutes of peace and quiet before I hear yelling. I look up from my phone to see an old man in a heated conversation with the secretary, right behind Suki’s head. He’s in a green sweater vest partially covered by a long, leather jacket leaning over onto the front desk and going face to face with the tired, yet annoyed secretary.

brought something just like it to her yesterday and that was fine!”

It’s not even like he’s trying to be quiet; it seems like he doesn’t care about any of the other people in the room.

“I must apologize, sir. I--”

This is dumb; I should stop listening but--

“Please, this is the only thing she has to remember me by,” he begs, waving around a golden heart locket with an inscription on the back. It’s almost too far away to see. I squint, “I” “you” something.

It's just a necklace. Is there something wrong with a necklace? The secretary deserves to be yelled at, that’s not right, not right at all, but what do I know; I'm just a stupid little girl.

As I go back to minding my own business, I glance around the waiting room. I see the guy sitting next to me, staring. He’s probably nineteen; dark brown hair and a bit of scruff to match, a Marvel comic book in hand, a red and black, open plaid shirt with a plain black shirt underneath. So that's who sat next to me; I didn't even bother to look in the first place.

“Hey, staring is kinda rude,” I state, looking at him out of the corner of my eye before going back to look at my phone.

He talks with a hint of an Australian accent, “Sorry, I couldn't help but notice your tattoo.” He gestures to my left forearm.

I got that tattoo two years ago, as soon as I turned eighteen, two months before the accident. It’s a play pause tattoo with the word mom written on one of the sides of the play button. My mom took me to get it; we saved up since I turned ten to be able to afford exactly what I wanted. The buttons themselves reminded me of the music, laughter, and memories that helped me finally move past my best friend dying, and my mom was there for me every step of the way.

Great. I gave him a reason to talk to me. What else could go wrong besides this entire situation? First, my dad calls in a panic telling me that my mom is in the freaking hospital because of a car crash with a dumb drunk driver at six in the morning. Then, I finally get here at twelve and it's super crowded and loud, and I just want to go home. And who knows how much longer I'm here for before mom gets out of surgery. This is just fan-freaking-tastic.

“What? Oh, yeah, thanks,” I say absentmindedly.

“Are you okay?” he asks, with a caring tone that sounds too much like someone I used to know, all too well, for that matter.

I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes because, if I do, I know I’m going to cry. “I'm fine. Why do you care?”

I don't know why I was being so rude to him in that moment. He didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't right for me to take it out on him. I know I had a lot going on at that moment but that’s no excuse.

I see him nod in my peripheral as though he gave up on me and opened his comic book. I think that shut him up.

I go back to watching the little girl. She’s playing a game on an IPad and the older girl is leaning over, with one arm resting on the back of Suki’s chair and the other sitting in her lap, watching what she's doing.

How is she still so...hopeful? I know she gets a new sister so that's something to be excited about, but I don't understand how someone could be that untouched by the tone of the room. It's almost nice, to not let other people control your happiness, to be happy despite everything else.

Despite everything else, everything else that happened, everything that happened to my mom. How am I supposed to be upbeat? I don't even know what happened. How did she end up in this miserable place? Dad said that it was a severe car crash, but how? Why, why did it have to be her? If it was anyone else I would’ve been fine--well, not anyone else, but almost anyone else--it’s just...so frustrating. Everything was fine--better than fine, great even--but now, huh, now everything is entirely down the drain. Maybe I’m looking through rose-colored glasses, maybe before wasn’t as great as I’m making myself believe, but it was definitely better than this. What did I even do to deserve this...this...suffering? I’ve been a good kid, I haven’t done anything that extreme--well, except for that time, oh and there was that other time, but besides that, I’ve been a pretty good daughter. I don’t deserve this. Why is the world against me?

I guess that was the straw that broke the camel's back, one too many losses, too much for me to handle at the time. But things get better, sometimes they get worse before they get better.

The nurse calls from across the waiting room, near the doors to the hospital rooms, “Evelyn, she's ready to see you now.” 

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