The young woman behind the desk turned away from the hunchbacked old woman before her, and immediately began typing away on her keyboard.
“Th-th-thank you,” came the barely audible reply of Emma Tyler.
The woman behind the desk hardly gave her a glance of acknowledgment, too wrapped up in what she was working on. Emma’s caretaker, Julie, grasped her arm and gently began to guide her towards the nearest chair.
The waiting room of the doctor’s office was empty, save Emma, Julie, and the secretary. The walls were white and bare, and the chairs sat lined up together against the wall, an awful gray and maroon checkered pattern.
Carefully, Julie helped Emma lower herself into one of the chairs, then quickly took a seat beside her. Other than the clicking of the secretary’s keyboard, there was silence in the room.
Emma slowly lifted a trembling hand to flatten out some wrinkles in her floral pattern dress. It was her favorite dress, and even though it was a struggle to even lift her hand, she liked to see the material neat. Albert had given her the dress as a Christmas present many years ago. She mentally smiled at the memory, for it ached too much to actually smile.
There they had sat beside their small yet friendly-looking tree, covered with several homemade decorations-- popcorn strings, paper-maché ornaments-- coming to the end of their small pile of presents. Emma had sat surrounded by piles of colorful wrapping paper, sipping her peppermint hot cocoa, believing the celebrations to be over.
“Wait here,” Albert had said, getting to his feet, “I’ll be right back.”
Puzzled, Emma had stayed in place, clutching her mug of cocoa, relishing in the warmth it radiated onto her cold, withered fingers. After a moment, Albert reappeared with a box in his hands, a small smile playing on his lips.
Without a word, he handed the box to her. Emma had no idea what to expect, so she simply dug into the wrapping. She caught a glimpse of Albert’s slightly anxious smile as she removed the cardboard lid of the box beneath.
Emma smiled as she ran her had over the blue floral pattern in the box. “It’s a dress,” she said simply, smiling.
“Yes,” Albert replied as he wrung his hands together, “I know I’m not very good at picking out clothes, but I... I wanted to get you something more personable than just another cook book or vacuum cleaner or something. And I know you like flowers and--”
“Albert, I love it,” Emma said.
Albert paused, processing her words. Then he grinned.
That had been nearly ten years ago. Emma sighed, using her thumb to stroke the faded pattern of her dress. Albert. If only he were there to support her through this hard time. He had always been good at that, always knew the right thing to say, the right thing to do, how to bring a smile to anyone’s face even in the grimmest of times.
Emma managed a glance at Julie beside her. She was absently playing with a strand of her curly red hair, staring ahead at one of the blank walls. Emma opened her mouth. “J-J-Ju-Ju... Julie,” she began.
Julie looked towards her, eyes round and attentive as she patiently waited for the struggling woman beside her to speak. “D-d-do you h-h-have Mindy’s let-t-t-ter?” Emma asked.
Julie nodded. She reached into her bag and handed her patient a small folded piece of paper. With some difficulty, but determination, Emma unfolded it. There was not much on it, but some marvelous multicolored scribbles, swirls, and a large, lopsided heart that sat right in the center. In the corner, written in ballpoint pen, were the words, “Mindy drew this for you this morning to let you know she’s thinking of you. The big heart represents how much she loves you. She says you’re the best grandma ever and to get better soon.”
Emma lifted a shaking hand to wipe away a single tear trickling down from beneath her glasses. Sweet Mindy. If only everyone’s love could be as genuine and pure as hers. Suddenly everything did not seem as bad as before. The disease that ailed and ached her body did not seem as painful. The small act of love from one little child was enough for Emma. Everything would be okay.
A door opened across the room. “Mrs. Tyler, the doctor will see you now.”
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