True

CHANCES WERE

 

The blue sky burns hot. Sidewalks seem to sizzle.  And I don't know what to do with myself. Loneliness is a curse for which I have found no magic words, no balms to attract a friend, no smile big enough or wink flirtatious enough to 'make my day.'

 

I watch the newspaper small ads telling me all the activities for the week but none draw me. The plans are too far away for me to even find the locations or the timing doesn't fit into my food shopping or for a doctor's appointment. I know very well what I need but so far haven't found any who need me. The library is my haven. While I seldom read a book any more, spend time writing my own stories, I spot a showing at Elkton's main library where a documentary film will be shown at 1:30 p.m. this coming Fri. I call in, put my name on the list and at least have something of interest ahead.

 

Oh, I haven't mentioned yet I am eighty-eight years old, still look damn good. I'm slender, 5'5", dress fashionably but not wildly. The library is my sanctuary!  Readers are the friendliest of people. Just a glance at mothers bringing their tots to story hour, makes my heart open, feel the warmth. They are so adorable I stop one after the other to tell them how cute their pink shoes are, or ask about the dress the little blonde is wearing. Mothers kvell, enjoy my interest.

 

I am much too early for the film showing so I amble over to the aisle where I assume mystery books will be lined up like stalwart soldiers on guard. Rows and rows of authors, their books still looking brand new, never touched by human hands, until I remove a new James Patterson book, read page one and return it to its space. I try another, don't bother opening it at all and walk out into the large and active lobby.

 

Along one wall in the lobby are very comfortable armed chairs, separated with about 3 feet of space. I make myself comfortable, pretend I am reading. I shut Patterson and look again at those coming in and leaving. Time barely moves. No one has yet lined up at the door where the film will be shown. I am getting a bit antsy. A lady, younger than I but not by much, sits in the chair on my right and we get into a discussion about politics. She is waiting for a friend and keeps her eyes going back and forth to the door.

 

I swear I do not notice anyone approach me but suddenly, from the chair on my right, I see a blur just about ready to sit down. By the time his rear end is set ok  he is leaning towards me. 'Hello,' he says. 'I'm Bob? What's yours?' Well, we are in the library and I came to be with people so I reply, 'Susan.' 'And where are you from, Susan?' he asks. I smile and tell him with my fake Southern drawl, 'Why Georgia, Bob. Can't you tell? At that he turns towards me. Words fall quickly from his mouth which looks like it has held many cigarettes. 'Come outside with me, Susan.' I beg off. Bob repeats himself, 'Come outside with me, Susan' and I repeat , 'No, thank you, Bob. I'm staying right here.'

 

There is a definite change in his voice. It deepens, seems coarse, showing a sign of anger. 'I said,' he says, ' I told you to come outside with me now!' The lady sitting on the other side of me starts to squirm. I do not. He insists it is lovely outdoors and I tell him he's wrong. 'It's hot as hell out there and I'm staying in this nice air-conditioned building.'  Bob storms out, telling me to wait, he'll be right back.

 

Now, dear Reader, would you wait? I waited to see what he would do and of course, Bob never returns.  Chills go up and down my spine as I picture being inside the trunk of his car, bleeding, dead.

 

The lady sitting near me is very upset, not for me but because her friend hasn't showed up. Readers are piling in for the film and I sit, trying to concentrate on it, but just can't. What should I do? Bob may be waiting for me outside. Then I realize I still have James Patterson's book on my lap and have to return it to the shelf. Like a jackass, I walk silently right past the librarian. Where was my mind? Why didn't I tell her about Bob, have her call the sheriff? Why? I guess I'm stupid.

 

You, however have been warned. This man who at first seemed so friendly wasn't. This time he met his match but you, dear Reader had better be alert. Look around. Study strangers. Accept no invitations. Who knows, Bob may be Harry today and may be waiting at the library door for you.

It's been a long time but here is an almost true tale

 

After much thought, none of it positive, I decided to change dermatologists--but to whom? That's when my unit's ad jumped out of the monthly paper, hit me like a slew of magic bullets. On the front page I saw a large ad for a new dr. right across Copperfield Ave. maybe three blocks from my apt. I called the given number. First thing I asked was, 'Is Wherewithall really the doc's name?' It was ! Whoever I spoke to set an appointment for me for the very next day, 1:15 p.m. The secretary? told me to look for 8060 which will make it easier for me to find Dr. Wherewithall.  That was the beginning  of insanity! Riding up and down the one way streets, no left turns, I finally found in big letters on the end building 8060.

 

A full block away was a car space that didn't have anyone's name on it so I parked and walked, opened the door to 8060 and was tossed for a loop. This was not the dermatologist's office at all.  Some of you, like my family, Jerry, Steve,would recognize --ZUBERA'S!  A tiny office packed with colored folders. Colors meant a lot to Zubera, to me they only meant I was not in a doctor's office. The girl at the wee desk was on the phone, ignoring me. She seemed to wake up from a dream as she asked if she could help me. 'Hope so, Kid. Where is Dr. Wherewithall's office? She's supposed to be at  8060.

 

'I'll take you to the elevator,'the twerp said, opened the door and lead me right, left, another left, a right and I had to ask, 'Isn't that an elevator over there?' 'Yes.' I walked the distance and got on the elevator, got off where twerp told me,third floor and there I found 2 young ladies at a table in a tiny room. I was given papers to fill out, 4 sheets in small print, listing every possible skin disease still on this earth, to check the ones I've had--NONE. The questions had questions, names of former drs., birthday, SS (that I exed out) . Finally I was zigzagged again and left in a room with no windows, no magazines or table and one closed door. It was almost scary. Then I saw a sign over the door. THIS IS THE QUIET ROOM. It did  not need that sign. I stayed about 7 min., opened the door and clapped my hands until someone came to find out who was making all that noise. I let her know I was angry I and I didn't want to be in a Quiet room.

 

Again zigzag, zigzag, totally discombobulated until I was put in a room with one chair, one table, one magazine and a shelf and one long cotton swab stick under the shelf. Dr. Wherewithall came in and I pointed out the stick, told her I wouldn't pick it up because I didn't know where it might have been. She was brave and trashed it. There was no sink which accounted for her not washing her hands.

 

OK. Dr. W. smiled. I think graduation glitter was still in her hair. Whoever brought me to that room had wanted me to have a full body exam and I refused, giving my reasons. All I wanted was for the dr. to look at something I scratched on my back that bled. At that point I told her my former dr. was King of the Zappers and I wanted no zaps unless absolutely necessary. She is NOT a zapper. I showed her other things that my reg. dermatologist never explained to me. She looked at the small rarieties and she and only told me there was nothing to worry about.

 

We smiled to each other and I asked for a map so I could find my way back to my car. Explanations of changes  that were going to be made  shortly in construction poured from her mouth. It seemed to be a good internal outlet for her- but didn't help me at all. Instead she called for an invisible guide dog who wore a short skirt and had legs up to her neck. Gorgeous young woman! She stayed with me until I reached the elevator where right outside I saw  my car awaited.... and my story is done!  VAL