S-Project--A Slow Sort of Bad

This is my latest submission for the S-Project. I don't think it's very good. Maybe I'll do another one later...and, just in case, NO! :) This is not autobiographical. Nor is it biographical. At least, as far as I know.

“Nathan is a funny guy—incredible sense of humor. I feel compelled to mention that because anyone watching him right now would think he’s nothing but a huge ball of self-contained stress and rage.” The woman just looked at me, doubt evident in the down-turned lines of her face. Clearly, she wasn’t buying it. Who could blame her really? Wasn’t like he was going out of his way to prove me right, sitting over there, chin in his hands, facial expression carved out of stone. Moody bastard.

I don’t know why I felt responsible to apologize for Nathan’s rudeness. To be honest, we weren’t even that close. The dorm RA assigned him to me and we got along okay, but we didn’t exactly hang out. Nathan was a funny guy—I wasn’t lying about that, but he had a mean streak that had definitely asserted itself that afternoon. The woman had gotten the brunt of it just because she had the audacity to ask him how he was doing, all chirpy-like. He wasn’t doing well, is how he was. The woman seemed nice, like someone’s favorite aunt, and truthfully, Nathan isn’t usually such a prick. He had a good reason for being in a bad mood at least.

“I realize he genuinely looks like a very unpleasant person, but I promise you, he’s the exact opposite. He’s a puppy. He’s a great big fluffy kitty-cat. He’s one of those plush overstuffed teddy-bears little kids create at that store in the mall. You know the one? Where they sew little hearts inside the teddy-bear so he’ll love you forever and ever? That’s Nathan. I swear.”

She rolled her eyes, picked up a magazine and made her way to an uncomfortable looking sofa in the exact opposite corner of the room. Okay, so I was dismissed. No sweat. Happened all the time.

I glanced over at Nathan. When we arrived, he’d picked up the sports section from a newspaper someone had left behind, but it hadn’t done much to distract him, and he’d eventually tossed it aside.

“How much longer, do you think?” I asked him.

“Dude. Stop asking me that. I don’t know.”

He was driving me crazy. I wished I hadn’t agreed to drive him, or at least that I hadn’t agreed to stay and wait. Wasn’t like I was the one who-

“NATHAN BEARD,” someone called from the reception desk.

He shot me one quick panicked look, and then ambled over to the nurse like he had all the time in the world. I watched as he disappeared behind the swinging doors.

I was glad he’d gone because he was seriously bringing the entire waiting room down. It wasn’t exactly fun sitting there, but it was better then sitting there with him. This has to be one of the longest hours I have ever lived.

I looked for something to read, but there wasn’t really anything good. The only magazines they had were the type of magazines my mom reads: People, Ladies Home Journal, stuff like that. I stared out the window for a while-did a little people watching. The woman in the corner got called in; other patients came and went. Finally, I picked up the sports section Nathan had abandoned and began to read. I’d almost finished it when Nathan came out, red-faced and strangely subdued.

“So?” I asked.

“I gotta wait,” he mumbled. “Test results will be available in about 48 hours.”

Dude, I thought. Forty-eight hours? And I gotta live with him? This is gonna be a slow sort of bad.