In Waiting
Anna didn’t see him appear. He was just there all of a sudden, walking around, looking disoriented.
“Hey,” she said. “You’re new.”
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess so.” He laughed. Nervously. Like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. He’d probably never laughed before.
“Hey,” she said, more gently. “It’s okay. Sit down.” She scooted over on her bench. “Get your bearings.”
He sat down next to her. He was older than usual. Solidly built. With broad shoulders and a wide face. His hair fell soft and strawberry blond over his forehead.
Everything about him was carefully rendered. Even his sweater had a pattern—a Fair Isle knit.
He pushed his hair off his face again and swallowed. “Am I … Is this … the story?”
“No. Not yet. This is like … the waiting room. You haven’t been written yet.”
“Okay …” He nodded. Then winced, shaking his head. “But Ifeelwritten.”
“I know. It’s weird. You’ll get used to it—or maybe you won’t. You might get drafted right away. That happens all the time.”
“It does?”
“Oh, yeah. Usually, even.”
“How long have you been here?”
She smiled at him and shrugged. “A while.”
The man—he really was a full-grown man—kept looking at her. He was looking at her clothes. Her shoes. Her hair. He was trying to figure her out. He was frightened.
“We haven’t had a redhead for a while,” she said.
“Yeah?” He breathed out another nervous laugh. “I think I look like someone on a TV show she likes …” He shook his head. “But less handsome. Why would she make melesshandsome?”
“Ah, don’t worry.” Anna nudged her shoulder into his. “You look very nice. I think if you were any handsomer, you’d betoohandsome.”
“You’re being kind.”
“No, I’m serious. ‘Too handsome’ isn’t any good at all. If anything, it’s creepy.”
The man laughed. More naturally.
She went on—“When I see the aggressively handsome ones coming, I know they aren’t meant for anything interesting. They can barely hold a conversation.”
He was smiling at her. “You’ve really got the lay of the land here, huh?”
Anna smiled back at him and decided to be honest. She could tell this one was built for conversation—for banter, probably. His eyes were thoughtful, and he had a little smile constantly tucked in the corner of his mouth. It was disarming. Inviting. She should enjoy it while she could. “I’ve been here years. Since high school, if you can believe it.”
“Since you were in high school?”
“Sinceshewas in high school.”
“That long …” He gave her a sad look. He’d been alive for three minutes, and he already pitied her.
“There’ve been a few close calls,” Anna said. “She’s gotten me ready a few times. Like, all wrapped up and ready to go. I’ve got incredible substructure—I even have parents.”
“You haveparents?”
