Anonymous

An overpaid receptionist stares blankly at a screen. I am sitting patiently in the waiting room; this is the room we wait in, listening out for our names. We are anonymous until then. The couple across the room hold hands. I call them Gary and Jane. Gary is a thirty something office manager and breadwinner. They have no children, but Jane has been undergoing intensive IVF treatment to be able to conceive their first. Gary is happy. Jane is happy. And today they are here to find out the results.

I hope it all goes well.

I pick up a magazine from the table between Gary and Jane, and me. Good Housekeeping, it’s called. I wonder if the woman pictured on the front cover has a nice house. Then come to the conclusion that she probably does, due to the amount of money she gets from doing photo shoots for magazines like Good Housekeeping.

The doctor calls for Mr and Mrs Nelson, and Gary and Jane stand up.

“Good luck” I say.

“Thank you” replies Gary.

I hope that is his name; I don’t think he would suit another. Jane looks at him with a look that says do you know her? And Gary shakes his head. Jane looks at me like I’m completely insane. I don’t like Jane. I don’t think Gary should have a baby with her. If that’s what they are here for, I hope there is nothing they can do.

I think maybe I am completely insane. Maybe Jane’s look was telling the truth. Perhaps I should see a doctor. I ask the overpaid receptionist if I can make an appointment.

“Do you not have one yet?” she asks, vacantly.

“No, sorry. Should I have?” I enquire. The receptionist, whose name badge says “Hailey” shakes her head a little bit.

“Why were you in the waiting room if you don’t have an appointment?”

“Because I like to wait, and be anonymous and read Good Housekeeping and think about whether Jane Nelson’s IVF treatment is going okay. But now I’m worried I might be completely insane, so I’m here to see a doctor.”

Hailey stares at me, open-mouthed. She darts from her chair and disappears behind the wall, perhaps to another room where lots of overpaid receptionists sit in waiting. They drink a lot of coffee. And they don’t read Good Housekeeping. They read “Hello” or “OK” and talk about celebrities with cellulite and the latest low-carb dieting fad.

All I want is an appointment. I might be completely insane and I think I have the right to know.

A moment or two later I am face to face with two slightly plump ladies in blue uniforms. Nurses. I call them Amanda and Rose. Amanda takes my arm and asks me to “come this way”. I don’t ask why, because I have always respected nurses and believe they are always right.

Amanda and Rose aren’t called Amanda or Rose, but I ask them to allow me to call them so, as I don’t think they suit anything else. They look at me with happy, if maybe slightly nervous smiles and agree that they think Amanda and Rose are much better names than the ones their mother’s gave them at birth. I smile and look around the room. They have a nice picture of a kitten dangling precariously from a branch with a slogan that reads, “Hang in there, buddy”. Although slightly patronising, I see the point of the slogan. And I come to the conclusion that I would like one of those in my bedroom at home.

“That’s a nice picture there,” I say, breaking the silence that has been lingering in this room for about thirty seconds. Amanda and Rose nod and agree. They seem a little scared, and I’m not sure why. It might be something to do with the picture.

“Don’t worry,” I say, “That cat is probably sitting with an old lady somewhere in Whitby with a lovely bowl of milk. I’m sure it didn’t fall. The man who took the picture and wrote the slogan probably saved it and gave it to the cat’s shelter where the old lady found it and loved it ever since.” Amanda and Rose look at each other and then look at me.

I decide that Amanda is my favourite, as she is the only one who really looks at me in the eye. Rose has a tendency to avert her eyes when she is speaking to me. It’s probably because she, like Jane Nelson, thinks I’m completely insane.

“The doctor says he can see you now.” Rose says, still averting her eyes in the way she does. I am quite upset. I sat in the waiting room, anonymous, waiting for my name to be called and now I can see the doctor, I’m still anonymous. No one has asked me for my name. Still, I’m sure Amanda and Rose have decided what name suits me best. Amanda takes me by the arm, linking hers with mine. I’m not sure why, I never saw Gary or Jane linking arms with a nurse. But it’s nice all the same. I must be their favourite patient.