The second hand slowly turned back as my foot quickened its tapping. Okay maybe the clock wasn’t going backwards but it sure as hell felt like it.
“Samantha.”
They called yet another kid, she gingerly stood up and skipped towards the brightly lit opening as the birds sang a hymn of rejoice, yet another kid is called forward, another kid that is not me.
“Alex!” A repeat of events, dè jà vu, oh no! We all know what that means: the matrix has changed.
Looking around, I try to make eye contact with my fellow patron, it's my favorite way to make the others that much more uncomfortable. You have to understand the relationship the patients and I share: we see each other every month but not once have we made eye contact, talked or have shown any acknowledgement of eachother. Its an unfriendly environment because we are metaphorically battling it out: who gets to go in first, who gets out first, its our subconscious competition.
“Ezekiel!” Looking up towards the daunting doorway, its empty, it holds no sign of the orthodontist who called me but I know it happened, I’m positive. Getting up, I try to make eye contact with the people around the room in mocking triumph to show who got in first, but I know full well that it’s a whole other game behind the doorway.
Gulping the last of my anxiety down I find the overly happy attendant. Faking it for all the world, the Academy Award is awaiting her acceptance speech. They are obviously bright 20-something year olds but they conduct themselves in such a manner that you would assume that they enjoy making their clientele unpopular and un-date-able.
As I suspected, this young women is as busy as all the others, you must wonder ‘then why did she call you
back here to the holy land if she were too busy to care for you?’ Because it’s the mind game they play, make the parents and clients think that their getting their money’s worth, make them think they care. It’s a farce, none care, its all about making it appear that they can empty the waiting room just a little bit more, a little bit faster. Who cares about the unlucky teen who has to lay back for another ten minutes as they care for other patients, whom they made wait ten minutes as well, its all fair.
“Sit down right over there.” She says, pointing to one of the horrendous purple chairs I quickly take my seat. Its all part of the game: if I sit faster someone will be with me sooner. But incase you haven’t been paying attention: That. Won’t. Happen. The actual doctor walks past, she is the ring leader of the game of Uncomfortability, I always say hi to her it makes her stop moving and look at you as if saying ‘who dare bring manners into my cave of doom?’
“Hey.”
“Oh, hi.” She looks up and quickly looking away, averting her brown dark eyes to the manila folder in front of my chair. It took me a couple of months but I figured out why she gives me that look, its because she does not remember who the hell I am. I am the kid who has been coming here for the past 5 years of his life to no avail. My teeth look the same as the day I arrived and will not change until the day I die; my dream is to die in one of these uncomfortable purple (Barney-esque) chairs with the sickening flourescent light directly overhead; I feel me and them know each other so well that its only appropriate for me to end in their gracious and loving embrace. I’m joking I don’t want to die here, I want to vandalize, burn down, make it unsanitary but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here.
It’s the ninth circle of hell. I’m positive. The new definition of the ninth circle: sitting and waiting, trying to call over busy attendants but always failing as you watch the time slip away and prom come nearer while your teeth are still covered in a metallic monstrosity.
That’s why I amuse myself by playing into their game: lets see who’ll break first. Game on.
