Watch this space…
Something happened this morning and I’m going to tell you a tale about it.
It involves a middle aged man, a beautiful woman in a doctor’s surgery and an encounter that was to change the life of one of them forever…
The Kindness of a Stranger.
Oh god, the tedium of waiting for a blood test.
It’s bad enough to be punctured by shiny bits of metal, wielded like ancient sabres by an old battleaxe, but boredom beats me every time.
Tick tock.
8.42 am
Twenty minutes pass by. Tick tock.
8.44 am.
What? Surely it’s been more than two minutes? I can’t bear this.
As I look around, desperately hoping there’ll be something to take my mind off the waiting, I see her walking towards me. I try not to stare, but she’s not aware of me so it’s okay. She reminds me of someone. Someone famous.
Yes! That’s it; Halle Berry. She even has the famous hairstyle from the Bond film. The one where she comes out of the sea, oozing sexuality.
Oh god, she’s looking. I glance away quickly, pretending that I wasn’t staring. I don’t think she’s noticed.
I can only see her back now. I keep hoping she’ll turn around so I can see her face. She is, quite simply, stunning. Everything about her is captivating.
Tick tock.
8.45 am.
Please, if there’s a god in Heaven make it 8.50 am.
She’s looking to the side: I can get a clear view of her profile. She looks lovely even from the side. I realise it’s a bit rude to stare so I tone down my curiousity and look away. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to go up to a stranger and tell them you think they’re lovely. To kill time I imagine what her personal story is. What kind of boyfriend she has (rich, famous and devilishly good-looking) and what her job is. I wonder whether we’d be lovers if we’d met in a different world, where I was 20 years younger.
Tick tock.
8.47 am.
Nearly time. I have to keep an eye on the notice screen to see when I’m called. I don’t want to lose my slot. But then she moves her head to the side again and I stare. She’s not smiling much, but I’ve noticed very few people ever do in the doctor’s waiting rooms. I’m not sure I do. Ah, my name. It’s my turn to be treated like a pin-cushion. I pull myself from my reverie and walk, like a lamb to the slaughter, to the consulation room. It’s only a routine test for cholesterol, but it still intrudes into my day and reminds me that I am, after all, not immortal.
Not immortal. I have a limited life-span. And this far I have done nothing adventurous; nothing out of the ordinary. Just lived that life of quiet desperation to which so many of us are kin.
‘All done. You can go now, but ring up for the results in about a week.’
‘Yes, thank you nurse.’
I wanted to say that I hated being treated like an inanimate object: just one in a long line of inanimate objects. But I didn’t. I was too busy thinking about the beautiful stranger outside.
She was still sitting there, looking stunning. There was something about her expression that made me think of a princess. Haughty, regal, proud.
Tick tock.
8.52 am.
I wanted to reach out and tell her she was stunning, but fear rooted me where I stood. Besides, she must know she has this effect on men. She’d only have to look in her mirror to know that.
What the hell, I’m going to talk to her.
“Excuse me, I don’t normally talk to people like this.”
No reply: just a level gaze directed straight at me. I couldn’t tell whether she was contemptuous, or just plain uninterested.
“I wanted to tell you that I think you are absolutely stunning. You’re a beautiful young woman.”
There was the faintest flicker of emotion in her eyes. I felt my own eyes begin to moisten a little with humiliation, so I beat a retreat as quickly as I could, trying not to look like a fool.
I’ll never forget how she made me feel that day: utterly worthless. The indifference of a stranger made me feel bad.
…
“Come in, Susan. Sit down.”
“Now, how’s your new anti-depression medicing doing? Are you feeling any better?”
Susan took a while to answer. The doctor knew that was normal for her. The serious depression that Susan lived with had twice brought her close to death. Allowing her time to answer was a small thing to do, but it gave her a safe space in which to be.
“Well, yes, I am. I’m feeling quite…happy.”
Difficult words to say. Unusual feelings.
“Good, we’ll stick with this medication then.”
“Oh, the pills don’t make me feel any better. But a man outside just said something to me. No-one’s ever spoken to me like that before. He said I was stunning.”
The rest of the consultation was just a blur. Susan was too busy thinking about the stranger outside.
…
As Susan left the doctor’s office a smile worked its way from her eyes to her mouth. She felt better than she had done in a long time. As she stepped outside into the sunshine she thought to herself, “I’ll never forget how he’s made me feel today: utterly special. The opinion of a stranger has made me feel good.”
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