Table for Two

Rorie stood on her tiptoes with her nose pressed against the cold, white counter. She was just tall enough to see the white hair of a woman and the clipboard that hid her face. The woman’s voice surprised her because it was heavy, loud, and raspy like the bark of a bloodhound.

“Name?” she asked.

“Roudebush.” Rorie looked up at her aging great-grandmother Myrna, who had set her purse up on the counter. Her strong voice was beginning to quiver in her old age. She began to riffle through her purse producing a laminated card and a ratty piece of paper—folded, yellowing and wilted—like a letter sent long ago. She unfolded it and handed both items to the white-haired woman behind the clipboard.

“Myrna Roudebush and Rorie Roudebush.” Myrna touched the top of Rorie’s head very gently, then whisked her hand back into her purse, retrieving a tissue to quickly wipe her nose. She looked down at Rorie through thick, plastic frames, and smoothed her hair.

“Are you Rorie?” the white-haired woman’s voice again startled Rorie. But when she looked up at the woman leaning over the counter, her face was surprisingly kind and young to have such white hair and harsh voice. She smiled.

“Rorie, I need you to put this on your shirt, right here like a badge.” She tapped herself on the chest. “Can you do that?” The woman held out a rectangular sticker with big bold numbers written on it.

Rorie nodded, reaching for the sticker.

Myrna’s stiff fingers fumbled with Rorie’s coat, unzipping it and pulling her scarf up so that Rorie could place the sticker where she was shown.

“Go have a seat, Rorie.” Myrna gestured to a corner of the empty waiting room furthest away from the automatic doors that opened every few minutes and blew in the piercing December air whenever someone walked by them.

Rorie’s boots squeaked across the once-white tile, leaving behind a gray trail of footprints from the counter to her seat. She leaned forward and watched the melting snow drip into two small gray puddles beneath her feet, longing to be at the sledding hill with her cousins. She raised her eyes back to the white desk and watched as Myrna first put a sticker on herself, then retrieved a pen from a plastic cup. As she began to write on the clipboard, Rorie took inventory of the room.

She couldn’t tell what this place was. It vaguely resembled the waiting room of a hospital, except the seats were cold, hard, and bolted to the floor. All the walls were layers of white paint on cinderblocks, chipped in some areas, and dusty in every crack. The wall behind her was lined with gray, square lockers with small black keys in each door, except for a few. The wall behind the desk had big, tinted windows, and a tinted glass door between them.

Rorie watched Myrna give the white-haired woman some money, and in exchange she was given a clear sandwich bag and some rolls of quarters.

Myrna gathered up their coats and her purse and shuffled toward Rorie. “Here.”

Rorie reached for her coat, but Myrna was offering the sandwich bag that she had now dumped the quarters into. She shuffled to the back wall and stuffed their belongings into one of the small square lockers. She put some quarters in and took out the small key. When she sat down beside Rorie, she took the bag from her and put the key in the bag with the quarters.

“What are we here for, Myrna?” Rorie asked, looking back down at her feet. “Why do we have to wear these?” She gestured at her sticker.

Myrna sighed, preparing an answer. But just then, a loud buzz sounded overhead.

“Roudebush! You’re up!” the white-haired woman was standing and pointing at the tinted door with her thumb. “That way. Take your shoes off, please.”

Myrna stood up and grabbed Rorie’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

As they stood in front of the door, Rorie stared at their reflections. Another alarm, this time a ringing one, sounded and the door opened. Myrna hurried Rorie through, into a small glass room with a bare table and a guard in white gloves. The guard walked up to Rorie and ran her gloved hands down Rorie’s shoulders, back, arm, and legs. Then she asked Rorie to see the bottoms of her feet, before picking up the metal detector wand and waving it up and down around her and Myrna. Rorie put her boots back on and was pulled into an even smaller room with nothing in it but two doors. The door behind them closed and the door in front of them opened with bells ringing in between.

They stepped through the door into what looked like a cafeteria, except there were no tables. A guard sat at a desk at the front, and guards patrolled the room. On one wall was a line of vending machines, each lit up with words advertising their contents: coffee, candy, soda, and hot food. On another wall, there hung a big mural on a sheet. On yet another wall was a line of chairs beneath a long row of windows, and the last wall was cinderblock like the waiting room, except for the door they came through and the windows on either side. Men were seated in chairs scattered all over the room. Some of them were wearing khaki-colored outfits and some of them were in regular clothes.

“Oh! There he is.” Myrna dragged Rorie across the room and sat her down in front of a man sitting with his fingertips touching, and his eyes closed. She put the bag of quarters in her lap, and then gestured to the man sitting across from her. “Rorie, say hi to your daddy.”

Rorie stared at the man whose eyes were now open and was smiling wildly at her. He looked like who she imagined her mother meant when she taught her about staying away from strangers. He was bald with a thick beard that grew down to his collar. His shoulders were broad, and his muscles weren’t hidden by his gray and brown argyle sweater. He looked terrifying, and when he spoke, his thunderous voice shook Rorie’s little body.

“Hi, Rorie.” His teeth were big and white, and he talked through his smile.

Rorie stared.

“Go on.” Myrna prodded, nudging her. “We don’t have much time here, so start talking.”

“Hi.” Rorie replied, sheepishly, before looking down again at her boots. Her eyes shifted from her bright pink snow boots to his black, canvas shoes, cut low, exposing his white socks.

“Hey, you don’t gotta be scared of me. Even if I wanted to hurt somebody, those guys wouldn’t let it happen.” Rorie looked up at her father. His smile was still plastered on his face as he gestured to the guard who sat behind him.

Rorie stared at the guard. He was wearing dark sunglasses and she couldn’t tell where he was looking.

“What if he’s not paying attention?” Rorie wondered.

“Myrna told me you have some questions to ask me, is that right?” Her father interrupted the thought.

Rorie nodded.

“Well, I got some questions for you, too. But first, I need you to do me a favor.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and his hands linked together. “Can you do me a favor?”

Rorie nodded again.

This time her father sat back and shook his head. “See this won’t work if you don’t talk. You gotta talk in here. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Here’s the thing.” He sat forward again. “I can’t get up and walk around whenever I want to like you can. I’m not allowed to touch that money either.” He nodded to the bag in her lap. “So, what I need you to do is go over to the vending machine and hit EE. That’s for Berts. Those my favorite mints. I only get to have them when I get a visitor though. Can you do that for me? Can you go over to that vending machine and press EE?”

He sat back and rubbed his hands together.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

Rorie got up with the bag of quarters and weaved her way through the maze of empty and occupied chairs and stood in front of the vending machine. It didn’t take her long to find the letter combination, but the sixty-five printed next to it was unfamiliar territory. She knew four quarters made one dollar, but how many quarters did she need to buy the mints? She looked back at Myrna and her father for help. Myrna was pointing at him, but he wasn’t looking at her.

Rorie decided to try on her own. She counted six quarters as she inserted them into the slot and pressed the letter E twice. Nothing happened. She reached into the clear bag to get some more money but just then, the machine whirred to life, dropping the mints into the bin with a loud clang followed by soft clinks of the change being returned.

Rorie entered the maze again but, as she got closer to their area, she realized only her father remained in his seat. Myrna was gone. Rorie paused, turning in circles, her eyes darting to every corner of the room looking for her great grandmother. She looked back at her father—whose head was in his hands—and at the guard who was still facing forward with his mysterious eyes.

“Where did Myrna go?” Rorie pleaded as she approached, tears welling in her eyes. She held out the roll of sugar-free Lifesapers as she waited for a response.

Her father lifted his head and stared at the roll of mints in her tiny hand.