Jasmine took only a few steps to reach the ground floor. A tall young slender man with a Caucasian medium built body, wearing a casual short-sleeve collared white shirt and blue jeans paired with black tennis shoes waited for her arrival at the front door. His deeply sunken eyes were pasted on every footstep she made, while his left forelimb segmented organ was playing with the keys. He uttered no sound observing his pacing, still creating a rhythm on the keys he was holding. She awkwardly met his eyes.
He responded to her smile with a deep subtle stare, like he was trying to see what was in her soul.
When she was already near to him, he gestured his left hand to the west. Her eyes followed the direction and saw a small dining table with various dishes on top.
He moved from where he’d been standing and led her towards the dining area.
It was a small rectangular shiny wooden table, painted with charcoal, having floral designs at the edges and braces. It could cater up to six people, one at the south, the other one at the north, and two people on adjacent sides, at east and west.
He grabbed her a chair on the east, while he seated at the north.
A massive silence stormed between them, as they both positioned on their dining chairs, in the four corners of the dining area. The carpal joints located in the middle of her legs created a tremor infecting her feet, which revealed her uneasiness. Her pale palms started to drip sweat in their atmosphere.
Crunchy Nacho Crescent Dogs, Chicago-Style Hot Dog Salad, Hot Dog Fried Rice, and Mini Corn Dog Muffins with Sriracha Sauce were served at the table. Jasmine frowned seeing the dishes on the table. The mixtures of aroma from the spices displayed in front of her went into her nostrils. She felt a little itch in the tip of her nose when the smell of the white onions together with hot banana peppers from the Chicago-Style Hot Dog Salad wedded with the cheese-flavored tortilla chips in Crunchy Nacho Crescent Dogs. She was asthmatic and almost nauseated. Her head sickened. Her throat dried. I’m not fond of hotdog dishes, she screamed inside.
She eyed the food with those pair of lazy tired eyes. She wanted to run away right now and wen back to bed, not eating for eternity. Well, surely she couldn’t escape this situation. She was overacting. She filled her bare hands with the silverware eating apparatuses, hanged and undecided on what food to pick. The steam of the fried rice went into her nose, igniting her appetite. It smelled tasty.
She composed herself and was properly seated. She could sense the impatience of the white ceramic plate in front of her, waiting for her to fill it with food. She traveled her gaze on him who was silently chewing his food. She hardly blinked.
After some minutes, at last, she decided to fill in her plate with a scope of Hot Dog fried rice and some tortilla chips. She put a little drip of sriracha sauce on the lower corner of my plate. She gnawed her food quietly.
An awkward silence penetrated the chamber. The tranquility combined with the normal room temperature— only the brandishing, cracking, and crunching of the utensils were audible.
Several times, Jasmine caught him staring at her. She almost choked her food when she noticed him, but he averted his eyes immediately, pretending that nothing had happened, that he was not snatching glimpses on me, that he was only focusing on his food.
It took 15 minutes before they finished eating. She could feel the vacancy of her stomach like she was not even eating. With his rustic presence and silent snaps, her hunger backed out.
“Finish your food. I’ll be waiting outside.”
He drank the final sip of the pineapple juice in his glass. He wiped his mouth and hands afterward, then strode to leave.
“Wait.”
She was shocked at her sudden utterance.
“What?”
He turned back looking at her emotionless.
“Nah, nothing,” she dryly spoke, almost a whisper, without glancing at him.
She could feel the roaring thunders in her chest. She thought of nothing but putting herself in a den of a massive embarrassment.
She glued her eyes on the left-over crumbs of cheese-flavored tortilla chips lying on the dining plate in front of her. She surrendered the spoon and fork she was holding.
She was about to ask him where to put the used silverware after eating when he broke into words
“After you eat, just leave it there.” He said calmly as if he heard her silent sentiments. And, he left behind.
Jasmine sighed in relief seeing his vanishing shadow out of the dining room.
She took a brief heavy inhalation before standing for a leave in the dining area.
The road was in august rest when they passed it. It was a quiet long journey, almost an hour. As the engine starts to crunch, silence collided inside the car.
After a series of trees and street lights passed, they finally arrived at the exact location.
Al-Muzzinih Medical Hospital, Diagnostics, and Labcorp. A broad sign in printed letters glittered to meet her eyes from the front lenses of the car. The engine crunched to move out from the driveway. The car U-turned towards the basement of the hospital.
It was already around 7 pm. The different lights from bulbs and fluorescent lamps of the hospital gave life to the dark solemn evening. It was a wide broad basement. The lights were gray, almost dead. There were several cars parked inside along with three ambulances and a van.
Jasmine pulled a heavy sigh before unbuckling her seatbelt and stepped on the granite cemented basement floor, next to him. While, Austin stood still, fixed his collar, then put keys in the pocket of his jeans.
“Let’s go.”
He started to step a foot going outside the basement. She followed him quietly.
Jasmine wondered why they were too late to go in here. Hospitals were fully awake 24/7, but the idea of going to the place amid the night left her hanging and questioning.
His footsteps were huge and swift. She couldn’t even think a single sentiment while following him, for if she did, she surely would lose her tract. She was like a robot-controlled person designed to follow him.
They walked past in the straight concrete corridor about 5 meters long, then afterward turned left. Jasmine followed the trail his footprints made. Not a minute before she realized that they weren’t taking the shortcut. There was a shortcut connected to the basement where she assumed would take them directly inside, but in their case, they walked towards the entrance of the hospital— too formal, she thought.
They took another turn before the two marble pillars welcomed her eyes. The glistening of the name of the institution scribed above the huge, tall, and wide architectural building with numerous cube-like window panes in proper symmetry invited her feet to go inside.
“Al-Muzzinih Medical Hospital, Diagnostics, and LabCorp,” she read it for the nth time in a shallow whisper.
Jasmine began wondering why she was in the place. Like who was sick. Why she was here? Is she sick? Is he? Well, she knew she wasn’t diagnosed with any illness, nor did she remembered herself getting ill. She was a healthy person. Her immune system was vigorous. Her Papa used to tell her that she was different from any other kids, for she wouldn’t get sick, though whether she would be exposed to any environment. But, she doubted it. Every one of us was capable of getting infected by any form of disthe ease, viruses, and bacteria.
Disrupted by those thoughts, Jasmine moved her gaze to Austin. He was standing sternly in front of the entrance. He stood beside her boldly, and in total confidence. She’d seen nobody, not even one security guard. All sections inside the institution were wide awake, evident by the various illuminance pecking from the windows. He fixed his collar and his entire upper garments once more.
“Miss Jasmine Dullivan…”
He broke the silence rolling between them. She lifted her eyes to the person beside her. His serious eyes intersected with hers.
“I’m Dr. Austin Lazure. Al-Muzzinih Medical Hospital, Diagnostics, and LabCorp Laboratory Director, and a Ph.D. scientist, “
He lifted his right hand to draw her a handshake and grinned. She looked at him bewildered and halfway mouthed openly.
W–wait, he’s a d–doctor? Jasmine hissed into her notions.