Sweet Nap

I arrived early for my eye exam yesterday. I have terrible patience for waiting rooms, so I brought a thick novel with me to stave off boredom.

Just as I was sitting down, a woman two seats away got called in for her appointment. She rose from her seat slowly, her husband's hand gently assisting in the arch of her back. As she was walking down the hall to the exam room, her husband, as if jolted by a small current of electricity, popped out of his chair and handed his wife her purse. She didn't say 'thank you,' but she smiled a small, almost secret, smile. He returned to his chair, slower than before, and sunk into the patterned, mauve fabric to wait for her.

For the next half an hour or so, I lost myself in my book, unaware that the man had drifted to sleep in the cushioned but uncomfortable chairs. It was only when his wife returned that I looked at him, his head hanging forward like in prayer. Trying not to wake him, she sat down carefully like she was sitting on a porch swing supported by thread. She had a grin on her face like a child discretely opening a cookie jar. Instead of waking her sleeping escort, she returned to her seat, allowing him to continue his nap.

The love story in my book then seemed flat: For the next 15 minutes, I kept peering over at the couple. The man still napping, dreaming of and waiting for his love. The wife, gingerly turning the pages of her magazine to limit the rustling leaves.

When my name was called, I tried to gather my things as quietly as possible, but when I rose from the chair, I accidentally woke the man. My Spanish is rusty, but as I was walking down the hallway to my exam room, I heard her say, "Because you were sleeping."