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The hospital waiting room was silent and smelled of antiseptic and plastic holiday decorations. Donna was in the corner chair of an uncomfortable row of seats, her coat wrapped around her and her purse settled on her lap, watching the eleven’o’clock news with poorly dubbed captions. Despite the sterility of the room, it was comfortably warm, and drowsiness was beginning to set in as she waited, carefully blocking out memories of her last visit to a waiting room.
“You been here long?”
Opening her eyes, Donna jumped to see a wobbly-looking old man carefully settling himself into a seat facing hers. “Excuse me?”
“You been waiting long? My Florence just got taken in and sometimes they’re a bit slow here.” The man frowned. “Sorry there, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No, no, it’s all right,” Donna said reassuringly, and smiled. “It has been a while, actually – over an hour.”
“You haven’t gone in yet?” The man’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry, we probably bumped you right on down the list then.”
“No, no – I brought a friend, I’m just waiting for him, so I can drive him home,” Donna explained quickly, sitting up a bit. “Did you just get here, sir?"
“Eh? Yeah, yeah, the ambulance was nice an’ quick, even though they should just let Florence sit there,” the man said, in a tone of patient and long-endured suffering. “I tell her all the time, she should let me help her with things, she’s too old to do all that stuff in the kitchen, but she says it’s her job, and I shouldn’t be mucking around in her kitchen.” He snorts. “My Florence is an idiot.”
Donna blinked, taken aback. “I’m sure it’s not that bad, Mr –“
“Bennett. Henry Bennett.”
She extended a hand. “Donna Moss.”
Henry shook it, bowing his head in a courteous greeting. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Your friend all right, then?”
Chewing on her lip, she took a moment to compose her reply. “Yeah. He’s – he cut his hand pretty bad, so we – we made him come in.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“Um.” Donna blinked again. “His boss and I. We work together.”
“Oh. I see,” and Henry subsided, shrinking down in his seat. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m a nosy old man, Florence tells me that all the time, but that’s the fun of being old, I think.” He harrumphed and wiggled in his seat, sighing. “Florence should listen to me more. She keeps falling down, and she’s getting old, and her bones don’t heal up so well now. All it’ll take is one good crack –“ And he slapped his hand on his knee, a bony brittle sound that made Donna jump. “One good crack and she’ll need to get a metal hip or something. But she’s gotta do things her own way.” He glared up at the television. “What are we watching this crap for? It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Force of habit,” Donna explained lamely. “I’m used to having the news on in the background. But I can change it – is there anything good on?”
Henry laughed at her. “It’s Christmas Eve, Miss Moss. There is singing, and they always show that Mass in Rome, with the Pope – that’s nice. That one’s always pretty, Florence loves it. Hopefully, they’re gonna show it again, she’s missing it.” He sighed, looking around the waiting room at the cheap holiday decorations.
“Call me Donna,” she offered, as she got up to paw at the television buttons. “Nobody calls me Miss Moss.”
“What does your friend call you – ah! There!” Donna looked up; she had stopped on A Christmas Story.
“Oh, I haven’t seen this in years!” She skittered across the room, taking a new seat, in the same row of chairs as Henry, since it had a better view of the TV. “I loved this movie when I was a kid!”
Henry smiled at her. “So what’s your friend call you, then?”
“Donna. Or Donnatella. But usually just Donna,” she admitted, eyes glued to the TV.
“What do you call him?” Henry grinned, sheepishly. “I’m being nosy again. You can tell me to shut up.”
“It’s OK,” Donna told him, tearing her attention away from where the younger brother was being told to “show Mommy how the piggies eat.” “Josh. He’s Joshua, but he prefers Josh, but I still call him Joshua, usually if I need his attention. Or to piss him off”
Henry squinted at her. “Josh, that’s OK. Josh and Donna, that goes nice together. You said you work together?”
Donna nodded absently. “Ummhm. We work at – we’re in the government.”
Henry frowned, his forehead wrinkling into a lacework of wrinkles. “Government, huh? Those salaries don’t usually cover taking your coworkers to the hospital, not unless you work for the President, or something wild like that.” He aimed a mock-suspicious glance at her, and Donna coughed.
“I'm his friend, this has nothing to do with salaries, or who we work for!”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Henry pointed out.
“I just met you!” Donna protested, shaking her head and returnin her gaze to the television, seeking a change of subject. “How long have you and Florence been married?”
“Fifty-eight years,” Henry announced proudly, one hand unconsciously drifting to the other, to rest on his wedding band. “We got married two days before I shipped out to fight.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Korea?”
“Japan. I was eighteen, she was seventeen. I came home in ‘forty-five and we haven’t been apart a day since.”
She could feel herself melting into a pile of estrogen-tainted goo. “That is just the sweetest thing –“
“Naw, not really. We just couldn’t find anyone else who’d put up with us,” he went on, in a straightforward tone. “We’re used to each other, and since we’re not dead yet, here we are. Only it’s a damn hospital, because that woman would rather stave then let someone else make her a cup of tea.” He snorted. “She’s gonna be in a mood when she gets out here. We were gonna go to church in the morning, but I’m not letting her out the door this way. She can go next week.”
Donna leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Um. Henry, can I ask you something?”
“I just met you!” he mocked, before breaking into raspy laughter. “Sure. Go ahead.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Florence is stubborn?”
“I thought I made that pretty clear,” Henry said, still chucking. “That’s not your question.”
“No.” Taking a deep breath, she went on, “How do you get her to listen? Because – Josh is the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, and he’s – I nearly had to hit him over the head and drag him here by his toes,” she finished, in a rush.
“You got him here?” Henry shrugged. “So he does listen. And even when it seems like Florence isn’t, I know she hears me, and it sinks in sooner or later. Someday she might actually let me do things for her, so I can stop coming to the emergency room on Christmas Eve, and actually enjoy my night in my chair.” He started to chuckle. “Suppose they got put in the same room? Your Josh and my Florence?”
“He’s not –“ she started to say, and stopped. “I think we’d know, the doctors would be calling for security by now.”
“Right you are!” Henry chuckled, and looked up. “Oh, this is my favorite part. The double-dog dare. Poor Flick.” He had a gleam in his eye. “We got Gordie Smith, down the street, to do that once. He couldn’t talk right for a week.”
“That’s horrible!” Donna protested. “He must have been so traumatized –“
“Didn’t talk to me for a week. He got over it, and when we were sixteen he let the air out of all my tires the night before my first date with Florence.” Henry chuckled. “And she married me, and he got stuck with Phoebe Hasen from next door.”
They both jumped when an unfamiliar voice broke in. “Miss?”
Donna looked up. “Yes?”
“Mr. Lyman’s all finished, if you’d like to come with me?” The aide standing in the doorway looked a bit hassled, and Donna instantly felt a kinship with her. She stood, gathering her coat and bag, and turned back to look at Henry.
“Have a Merry Christmas, Henry, and I hope Florence gets better soon.” She went to put on her coat, and Henry stood, surprisingly quickly, and helped her into it.
“You too. And your Josh.”
“He’s not my Josh!” she blurted out. “I work for him. He’s – he’s just Josh.”
Henry frowned at her. “You sat and listened to some crazy old man in an ER waiting room on Christmas Eve, waiting for him? You should be with your family tonight, but you’re here. He’s your Josh. Go have your Christmas, Miss Moss, and a merry one to you as well.” He laid a knobby hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, briefly, before sitting back down.
“Miss Moss?” The aide was starting to look impatient, and Donna jumped.
“Coming, coming,” she muttered, and turned to follow her out, leaving Henry to chuckle at Little Orphan Annie’s Secret Decoder Ring, and wondered just what Ovaltine tasted like.
Josh was sitting in a chair outside an exam room, his hand bound up in fresh white gauze. “Took you long enough,” he called when he caught sight of her.
“Shut up. I had to get my coat on,” she called back, stopping halfway down the hallway. “Let’s go. I’m tired, and I want cookies.”
“I’m injured here,” he called back, but he got up and walked down the hall to meet her. “You look sleepy.”
“It was warm in there,” Donna told him as they exited the building.
“Lucky. The room was freezing, and they argued with me when I said I didn’t want anesthetic –“
“You didn’t have any anesthetic?” she interrupted. “What did they do?”
“A few stitches. I’ve had enough anesthetic this year,” he muttered. “But listen. There was this crazy woman in the next bed, fell making a cup of tea.”
“Florence,” Donna told him.
“How do you know this stuff? Yeah, Florence. She was just whining and bitching like crazy, she was just making a cup of tea, she didn’t need any of this, her husband called the ambulance even though she said she didn’t need it –“
“Look.” Donna pointed up. “The Christmas star.”
“Huh?” Josh looked where she was pointing. “Isn’t that Sirius?”
“I always called it the Christmas star when I was little,” Donna told him. “Get in the car. I spent my Christmas Eve sitting in a waiting room, and I want eggnog and cookies, and you’re going to make up for leaving me to sit there alone by keeping me company while I watch cheesy Christmas movies.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” he protested, as he got in the car.
“Nope. It’s what I would do if I were home,” she told him. “Hey – did you know Florence and her husband have been married fifty-eight years?”
“Seriously, do you have flash cards for every person in this country?” Josh demanded, struggling with the seatbelt. She took it from him and buckled it before shifting gears.
“I’m just nosy,” Donna told him. “And I was chatting with her husband in the waiting room.”
“Fifty-eight, huh?” Josh leaned his head back against the seat. “That’s pretty impressive. I doubt anyone could survive fifty-eight years of me.”
Donna rolled her eyes. “If Henry’s spent fifty-eight years with Florence, I’m sure someone just might manage to put up with you.”
He was silent for a moment. “What kind of cookies?”
“They have sprinkles. And chocolate.” She looked over at him at a stoplight. “I can make cocoa.”
He sat quietly for a moment. “You told Leo to call that guy.”
“I did.”
“I have a thing with music,” he said, after a long silence. “So no movies with singing. Because, you know, those carols suck.”
She rolled her eyes. “How does a Red Rider BB Gun sound?”
He made a face, and she laughed, turning on to her street, where Sirius was just visible over the roofs. “Good. Let’s go have Christmas.”