BACK IN LINE 

The young boy, clad in Spider-Man pyjamas, leapt to the reception desk holding his bar of chocolate, its edges poking from both sides of his tiny hand. The towering table loomed over him, evoking memories of a scary movie his brother had warned him not to watch. The rapid punching sound from the keys on the computer as the receptionist hurriedly documented the previous patient’s notes before calling the next person on the list made him blink faster. Glancing back, he checked if his mother had noticed his absence. She remained seated at the far end of the bench, her head bowed, covered by her security cap, probably lost in deep sleep rather than prayer. He regretted showing her his swollen ankle from soccer practice when she walked in from work that evening. 

Across the room, an older boy rubbed his stomach, making repeated trips to the restroom. His father, engrossed in a newspaper, dismissed the discomfort with a curt, “toughen up, it’s just a stomach ache, you’ll be fine.” The young boy felt sorry for him, dreading a similar ordeal. The memory of a previous stomach-ache he had on Christmas, that made him vomit and run to the toilet, the minute he sat down haunted him. His mother said he could not have his favourite breakfast of sausages and eggs; his tummy would spill it out. Enduring a day of bland porridge and tasteless vegetables, he vowed never to complain about his stomach again.

His eyes shifted quickly across the room. They were struck by the mothers’ glances, making his feet feel funny, like they wanted to run away from him. Their raised eyebrows gave a look of less concern but surprise or curiosity. A girl about his age, sniffling and coughing, tugged on her mother’s dress, pointing at his chocolate bar. Quickly, he dug it into his pocket and turned away, he would not lose his treat to a stranger.

As the nurse opened the back door labelled CONSULTATION and whispered to the receptionist, he saw an opportunity. The doctor must be ready for the next patient. He knew he had to take a chance, even if it meant giving up what he treasured.

Struggling to see the woman behind the desk, he took a few steps back and waved his chocolate in the air. She noticed him and asked, “Hey little one, are you lost?” her sweet voice calmed his racing heart. 

He stuttered but went on, “I…I think you called me to see the doctor already.”

Surprised, she asked, “Really…why do you think that?”

“Because my mom gave you her name instead of mine,” he replied.

“Where is she?” the lady inquired, following his gesture to his mother’s direction, still seated in the same spot in her security service uniform.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Messi Sidi,” he answered.

“And her name?”

“Missi Sidi.”

He noticed the puzzled look on her face and said, “My name is for the football star but mummy is for the movie star,” The receptionist smiled realising how different the two names would sound. She scanned the register, flipping to the previous page. She found it and said, “Oh dear, I did call you… I mean… her, ages ago.” She furrowed her brow, staring at his mother intently. He panicked.  Was he in trouble?

“Sorry, mommy is tired, and I told her I hurt my leg at soccer. I did not want to come but she said it was broken,”

The receptionist stood up and came to his side, her black heels making her even taller. The boy took a step back, his heart was drumming again, thoughts racing in his tiny mind; I should have waited until everyone was seen. Why did I think I was special to everyone? I am not a good boy like Mrs. Emily said. He closed his eyes and waited for his spanking. Instead, a warm hand settled on his back, rubbing it with care.

She squatted beside him, “It’s okay. You did the right thing. Don’t worry about it now. I’ll go wake your mom, and you can come in,” she reassured him.

His heart settled again at the quiet of her words. He pulled out the chocolate bar from his pocket, breathed in deeply and stretched it out to her. The sacrifice had to be done.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“For you, for helping mummy and me,” he replied.

She was amused and smiled softly, “That’s alright. You keep that until you feel better.”

He couldn’t believe it. He was back in line and all it took was his trembling voice. He quickly tore open the wrapper as the receptionist stood back up and walked over to his mother, not taking any chances in case she changed her mind like his brother did and said she wanted it after all. In his five years on earth, he had learned not to trust people with his chocolates.

As he savoured the first bite, the receptionist’s voice rose, interrupting the divine moment. She was shaking his mother, calling out, “Missi! Missi!” now almost banging her to the wall.

His mother didn’t move a muscle. 

The waiting room went alive in chaos, people surrounding his mother like a swarm of bees. The young boy was grounded in shock, his mind picturing this was a movie, and the good thing about movies is that there is always a happy ending.

As he waited and waited for everyone to jump up in joy, he forgot to swallow the chocolate chunk stuck at the back of his throat. A strange feeling started creeping over him.    

He did not know what was happening but something was wrong with this ending…

@themedyc.com