Little Red Balloons

Chapter 8

Tick, tock, tick, tock…. my hands covered my eyes as I listened to the clock go on and on. I couldn’t open my eyes here, if I did the entire place would become more real somehow.

“What time is it?” I asked S softly, at such a low volume I was quite impressed that she even hear.

“It is 11. We have been sitting here for about-”

“I know how long we have been sitting here for!” I didn’t mean to snap a her but how could I not, the stress was eating me alive. The three of us have been sitting in the hospital waiting room for two and a half hours.

My father paced back and forth at the front of the room. At first he lit a cigar and smoked but he was told to stop. He didn’t stop, until the security had to physically take away his cigar, pat him down and take away all his other ones aswell. They were also going to kick him out until S stopped them. For the first time that night my father had turned to S and smiled gratefully.

Now I sat, my head in my legs. I fought the tears with every living organ in my body. Not here, not now. Not in front of him! I thought in repeat. After the 30th repeat, I let one tear roll. Almost in slow motion I wanted it roll down the bridge of my nose and land in the middle of my feet. The tear formed a miniscule puddle, perfect enough to bring more tears to my eyes.

“Son.” My father sat himself down next to me, he wrapped his arms around my shaking body.

“I am sorry, I just can't hold it in anymore.” I say, between tears.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s ok.” He took a deep breath, looked around the room then leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “I know about the graffiti art.”

“You do!?” I pushed him off me and sat up straight practically for the first time all evening.

“Yes I do. Your girl, S ,told me about them when you stormed off, again. She gave me a hard time about it. I told the driver to show me some of them as I drove here. They’re beautiful…” He looked me right in the eyes and smiled, he almost looked normal, I was so impressed.

“Thank you, it means-”

I was cut off by a young Indian doctor who walked into the waiting room with a clipboard in hand. “The Lawren family, the family of Mrs. Sophie Lawren.” He announced, his eyes glued to his clipboard. My father S and I approached him slowly, he looked around the room awkwardly. “Um…” Before he said it I knew it was coming, I had known it since age 10… I had always know, just like S had her own demons… I had mine and they had finally caught me.