Monday, November 10, 2003

Holding on by my teeth

Went to the dentist today to do the usual checkups. Went there at 9am and came out four hours later. Wish I can embellish the tale with stories of horror of the dentist gone mad with the driller, but I can't. I'll have to tell the truth instead - had three hours of waiting hell. You see, we didn't make an appointment thinking that there'd be nobody so early in the morning. Hah, were we so wrong. When we got there at 9:05am, there were already three patients ahead of us and all of them had appointments. *sigh* AND then it got worse as the minutes ticked by; more people came in through that glass door and we were pushed further back in line. Every time we are assured that we would be the 4th or 5th down the line, another appointment-maker would waltz in.

Another Chance...mayhaps

She sat there amidst the plastic plants and toothy grins hanging on the whitewashed walls, feeling tired, sleepy and just plain miserable. Beside her was a foot high pile of old magazines, each depicting glossy pictures of places far away, with people of alien cultures; each carelessly thumbed through and carefully read likewise. All of those periodicals had one thing in common, its yellow-framed covers were all worn and tattered, practically hanging off its' spines. She inanely thought, "There must have been a lot of people without appointments too."

BING BONG!

She looks up, almost like an afterthought, and her face was arrested by the sight of a young man wearing a polo shirt and quarter khakis. "I know him..." she thought. "But from where?"

The young man gave his name (he had an appointment) and took a seat directly across from her. She faked disinterest and went back to reading her already-read-once magazine, all the while stealing glances at that familiar young man. During her ninth or tenth stolen glances, he caught her glancing at him but she faked a polite but impersonal stretch of her lips upward at him. He went back to studying the walls.

She raked her memory frantically. "Who, where, when?"

Then it hit her and her eyes widened alarmingly behind the magazine. "Omigawd, it's him!" her mind screamed. He was her young teenage crush! He was the guy she made a fool of herself over when puberty hit. Her hormones had gone berserk and started pining for the big guy with the teddy bear frame. At that time, she thought he was most huggable. "Actually, he still is," her mind gushed.

"Who's that?" nudged her sister who was sitting beside her.

"Oh, not sure." she lied.

"Well, he's been looking at you for the past fifteen minutes," her sister supplied as if she weren't aware of that fact already.

"Uh hmm..." she mumbled non-committedly and went back to fake-reading the magazine - the same page she's been on for the past twenty minutes. Very engrossing article that.

After an hour of stealing glances and faking disinterest and ignorance, she got up to return the magazines to the rack. On her way back with more magazine, she was intercepted by her teddy bear.

"Lee Yong?" he tentatively ventured, and her mind went into panic mode.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember me? We were in the same class in Remove."

"Oh, really? Hmm... you are very familiar but I can't really recall your name." She lied apologetically.

"I'm *beeeep* (censored)." he added.

"Oh! Yes! I remember you! We used to play basketball together during PJ." She beamed, flashing him a 200-watt smile, teeth and all.

"How are you, what are you doing now?" she asked politely.

He was about to answer when her phone rang. She flashed him an apologetic smile and took the call. It was Vij. She talked to Vij for a few minutes, accepting a lunch date for wednesday and went back into the waiting lounge.

He was nowhere in sight. He was called in; ahead of her.

She felt most put out. Deprive of her distraction in the waiting lounge, she went back to staring at the walls and reliving old memories.

Later when he came out, they barely had time to say anything as it was finally her turn at the dentist chair. They parted with a smile, and he handed her a piece of paper. It had his number on it.


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