Why Not

Albert’s mom had left him in the lobby of the Doctor’s office. She was in the office getting some more tests done. Every weekend it was the same thing. His mom would pick Albert up from his Dad’s house and they would go out to breakfast at the town diner. After a meal of the diner’s special, particularly runny eggs, French toast made with wheat bread, and not so fresh squeezed orange juice, Albert’s mom would package him into the car and they would drive to see Dr. Munoz. MD.

The Dr.’s office with its peeling wallpaper that exposed its grimy white walls, was almost like Albert’s second home. Some kids went to the zoo, others to the playground. Albert went to Dr. Munoz’s waiting room. His feet swung high off the ground, banging into the scuffed plastic seats. He picked his nose complacently while listening to the secretary talking to her friend Janice on the phone about her latest male conquest. Albert watched as her pink plastic fingernails drummed out a rhythm on the enameled desktop.

Some of the other children, who were also waiting for their parents, played in the corner of the room with the broken wire contraption loaded with beads and the battered plastic fire truck. Two small boys wrestled over a one-legged fireman, both fanatically pulling at the poor toy by his arms.

Albert calmly surveyed the scene while he reached down to scratch his leg through his best pair of jeans, the ones where the bottom hem was almost intact. He jumped down from the plastic chair and walked over to the magazine stand. After several moments of contemplation he chose the new nickelodeon magazine, detailing how to make slime birthday cake, before skulking back to him plastic seat.

One of the small boys succeeded in ripping off one of the fireman’s arms and fell back onto the beaten carpet. He began to cry in a high-pitched wail, drawing a glare from the secretary. The other boy triumphantly waved the disabled fireman in the air, before throwing it back in the pile with the other toys. Albert merely sat back and attempted to read his magazine, meanwhile dreaming of grander places than Dr. Munoz’s lobby, places where there was no tapping, or wailing, or inattentive mother. His eyes closed while he sleepily considered this magical place, meanwhile returning to picking his nose.