Post by Rowan on Jul 7, 2021 16:18:27 GMT -8
"Sign here. Initials here. Here. Here. And here."
Isaac Reynolds; IR; IR; IR; IR.
"-Is there always this much paperwork?
-Nah. It's just to set up your visitor badge. Now, let's see who you got."
The woman tuned to gaze into the screen of her computer, a big, clunky and square monstrosity that had been outdated by several generations. The light reflected in her glasses as she clicked several times with the mouse.
"Margaret, room 207." Her face twisted into an overacted yikes. "Good luck, you'll need it."
---
"-So. What did you do?
-What do you mean?
-What did you do to end up doing community service?
-Nothing.
-Bullshit.
-I volunteered.
-Even dumber than you look, then."
Margaret, room 207, was an elderly woman in her late 70's. From one of the pictures on her night table, black and white and faded, she used to be beautiful. That beauty had left her face, replaced with hard lines and wrinkles. Despite how saggy her skin had become, she held herself with dignity. She was wearing a sensible floral summer dress that covered all the places a proper woman should cover. From the get go, Rowan could tell that she was wilful, hence the good luck wishes from the receptionist.
"-What's your name, anyway?
-Isaac. But you can call me Zach.
-What are you, twelve? Isaac is a perfectly good name."
There was an uncomfortable silence while Rowan tried to process what to do next. He was taken aback by how straightforward Margaret was and was struggling to adjust.
"Um- What do I need to do now?
-How should I know? You're the one that volunteered. You tell me.
-Can I sit?"
Margaret gestured tersely at a chair in the corner of the room. It was all wooden, without padding. With its back against the wall, it faced the opposite wall. Rowan sat down and placed his hands on his knees. The chair every bit as uncomfortable as it looked, all hard grain and annoying angles, but Rowan still kept quiet. The silence stretched like taffy, thick and heavy. The old lady spoke first, breaking the spell that had settled on the room.
"-Aren't you going to say anything?
-I don't really have anything to say. I figured you'd speak when you were ready.
-Did you really volunteer? Why would anyone want to spend time with the derelict?
-I don't know what that word means. But yes, my therapist said it would be good for me.
-Great. I get the crazy one.
-Yikes." There wasn't much emotion behind Rowan's reaction, it was simply and indication that he didn't appreciate the word crazy. "I'm just not good with people and need to socialize more.
-So you just sit quietly in the corner.
-I warm up slow."
It didn't take long before Rowan caught up to what was happening. Margaret was willing shutting him out. He'd done it himself long enough to recognize it. So, out of sheer stubbornness and spite, he stayed. Through the silence and the berating, through the uncomfortable chair, he stayed.
---
"-How did it go?
-Okay, I guess.
-Poor lady. Her son doesn't speak to her and the only visits she gets are court mandated volunteer workers. They leave after a few weeks."
He slowly nodded. He could relate. People only dealt with him when they had too as well.
"Tell her I'll be back next week. I'll bring Scrabble."