Sand and Water
Sam flung open the double doors of
the hospital, Josh following a few feet behind him. Finally, he was able to run to the front desk and breathlessly
asked, "Thomas Seaborn. He's my
father."
The middle aged, blue eyed secretary glanced at a
piece of paper on her desk as Josh approached the black desk, breathing
hard. The nurse glanced at the two men
and replied, "He's in the O.R. right now. It's on the ninth floor-"
"Elevator?" Sam half shouted at her.
She pointed to the metal doors, directly behind the
two white house coworkers.
Josh leaned against the right side of the elevator,
watching Sam pace back and forth between the confined space. "Sam-"
"Something's wrong, Josh," Sam
interrupted. "Something's very,
very wrong."
After a couple of minutes- though to
both of them it was hours- the elevator's doors slowly opened and released her
prisoners. In front of the elevator was
another desk. Sam and Josh, now
slightly more composed, but equally frightened, walked quickly to the
desk.
"Mr. Seaborn? I'm his son." Sam asked, his eyes and
voice pleading.
The nurse blinked, and looked at the panting,
ruffled men standing before her. In a
gentle voice, she said." Please, sir. Have a seat. The surgeon will be
speak to you shortly."
"Surgeon?" Sam gasped out. "What the hell is happening?!" He
yelled at the young receptionist.
"Sam," Josh began quietly, soothingly
though his voice was equally taut with emotion and worried. "Let's sit."
And with that, the two shaken young men perched on
equally uncomfortable plastic chairs, awaiting news that neither one anticipated.
Yes,
they're short. Sorry, but if you want a
little taste every night.......evil grin