I’m lost. I never realized how expansive this hospital was, likely because of my first-time visit. More and more doctors are walking past me, and it feels like any minute I’m going to walk in on an operation.
Finally, I find the desk where our supplies are. My shoulders dropped, not realizing that I was holding tension there. Rounding the corner, I stop as my eyes fall on a young girl close to my age, sitting in the waiting area. It seems strange because it’s empty except for her.
She continues to look at the ground, her fingers slide up and down on the IV pole that appears to have a few different tubes going into her arm. She stills her hand and grips the pole tighter, slowly raising her eyes to look at me. Her face is puffy and swollen, too large for her slender frame. Her gaze remains on me, and that is when the embarrassment hits. How idiotic I must look gawking at a sick person.
I look down and then contemplate leaving, but I can’t go back to the group empty-handed. I focus my gaze on the receptionist and make a beeline to the desk. She glances my way, swiveling in her chair to face me, the phone pressed to the side of her face becoming visible. I feel my palms getting sweaty, and I quickly wipe them off my jeans.
“I’ll be right with you,” the woman leans forward, swiping the glass divider closed, swiveling her chair around, giving me her back. I let out a sigh.
“You’ll be waiting for a while.” I turn around. The girl is still watching me. She takes a slow, deep breath as she straightens in her chair.
“How long will that be?” I have to get the supplies and return before getting into trouble. I hear something behind me. When I turn around, the woman has left.
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“You might as well sit.” I have always felt awkward around sick people, so I sit beside her with two seats between us.
“You can’t catch what I have.” I feel the heat rush to my face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” But she waves me off.
“It takes more than that to offend a sick person.” The receptionist still hasn’t returned.
“Am I going to be sitting here all day?” I quietly ask.
“You might. Do you have somewhere to be?”
“I’m volunteering for my school with my other classmates.”
“Why aren’t you with them?” She coolly asks.
I turn towards her, meeting her gaze.
“They chose me to get our supplies, and if I’m not back soon, I’ll probably get into trouble.” I rub them on my jeans again, noticing my foot hopping. I press my foot to the ground to make it stop.
What is wrong with me today? I hear the chair squeak next to me. The girl slowly stands. She grips her IV stand so tight that her knuckles turn white. She takes a deep breath as if she is steadying herself. I watch her, waiting for her to fall, then wonder what I'll do if she does.
She takes a few steps forward to stand at the receptionist's desk. She places her hand on the glass and forces it open. The receptionist is nowhere to be seen. She could have gone on break, fall all I know.
The sick girl leans forward, reaching for something on the desk.
I stand up. What is she doing?
Letting go of her IV pole, she lifts a small box. When she turns towards me, the exertion seems too much for her. I rush to her, looking at the box. It’s the supplies I need. She drops her hands the second I take the box from her. She takes another slow deep breath and looks at me, her eyes so tired.
“Take some initiation next time.” With a firm grip on her IV pole, she turns and walks away from me. I try to unscramble my thoughts to say something to her, but she is already gone by the time I do.
***
I make it back to the group with no more detours or incidents.
“What took you so long?” I don’t know who asks me this.
Who was that girl? How long has she been here? Is she getting better?
“Jessi, get with it!” Someone snaps their fingers in front of my face. I feel my face flush, but I get focused and work on our assignment. And then I realize, how did she know what I needed and where to find it when I never mentioned it to her?
