Tease Mawray - Actors Extraordinaire

Waiting room observations, simple story, shared kindness, just looking while I wait to be seen.

Actors Extraordinaire

Silently, motionless, I watch frail people dart about the small room. My assumption is, most came to rest and visit old friends; a smaller group, huddled in the far corner from where I sat, all seem to randomly stare upwards, moving their head side to side, I think perhaps, they are the rare ones, they came searching for the unknown.

Muffled words turn to whispers as breath fades, while smiles are abundant and although I’m sure every word is important, the casual observer must be very careful, impostors cannot hide from the obvious.

To those watching, and they are watching, my age affords me a degree of invisibility, a compassionate degree of assumed ignorance by my elders, by the players.

Whispers and quick wit can easily deceive the uninitiated by purposefully becoming indistinguishable gibberish....as planned.

This shared rare childish innocence is a refined trait as confirmed by soft, natural, grandmother smiles occupying faded nineteen seventies multi-colored plastic and triple-chrome chairs.

A gifted sorority of limited lifelong members, like starlings occupying a great tree, these sounds of secret whispers overlapping one another, and not a peep wasted is reminiscent of a court room just before a judge enters.

The intended listeners need only to catch every other word, for they know the mission, they know the pain; the unintended pause of breath, they recognize gibberish when offered up for the unintended and the real story.

Eyesight fading while they talk, yet those same eyes scrutinize the small room as excitement and anticipation rise and fall like undulating waves. Exhaustion shows on some faces as it can’t be helped; the teller knows why.

Some players get carried away, and their animation rises to a feverish pitch of hope, only to be dashed like before by their inability to hide the pain from their dear friends once again. Friends have learned to turn away at the right moment, so as not to admit it; a learned skill, a precious skill in this room.

They know the sadness is not for you, but for them, who for the last three visits you have not been able to fool; like in the old days. It is compassion welling up inside her that brings the faintest of smiles. The unintentional stare of kindness begging to share the sadness if it could only be, and a friend’s acknowledgment, the pain is still there.

Others (the fading ones) behaving as puppies waiting for a treat. They too had their chance on the stage to be invited so close as to see the sparkle in a director’s eye; alas, for most, one discrepancy after another, one more test, one more laboratory failure forbade it.

Like days before this, euphoria ultimately becomes too much for some; they simply doze off to a gentler time in their life; a time when clapping can be heard and smiles seen. A time when a suitor’s warm breath tickled their cheeks. These precious souls, the lucky ones, stepping into dreamland wish never to return to this room. It is then, another's compassion sweeps the room. The 'cotton tops' know all too well, one day they will not catch their friends smile from across the room, they will miss an important step.

If you watch some of them closely, the ones that forget to visit the hairdresser before coming like before, you will notice their breathing has all but stopped while a faint smile tries to visit them again. As in childhood, perhaps the scent of corn on the cob would suffice; maybe the first kiss, or a dare by that boy over there. They are waiting for something, or someone to take them dancing again so they can ware that yellow dress.

There are many reasons for this congregation. Some stare into nothingness, others contemplate life and the wonderment of it all. Some, by contrast, seem confident, like so many acorns in a torn pocket, they possess at least some of the very answers they seek to keep them warm.

Human instinct to stack the odds in one’s favor is a natural trait, and these warriors know it; insomuch, these same dears wear reflections of confidence recalled from an earlier time like medals of bravery. They remember the look, but not the reason, and are saddened for it, seems unfair, but being able to reflect it astonishes everyone in the room who knows why you came.

For many, the delight in participating is somehow enough; because these cotton tops know the encroaching fog of age comes for all. Tears well up when knowing memory is so precious, yet sadly, our grasp of these precious bits and pieces of our past often weaken when we need them the most.

Small wonder, it's like trying to help someone out of the water; you extend a hand and with all your strength you pull, yet somehow the memory slowly slips your will and sinks into waters of yesterday, maybe it’s knowing you tried at all is what matters as your concentration wanders to the pretty blue color of the water, maybe.

I laugh when I think this small space is sprinkled with skeptics regarding their participation in this whole affair. Most, likely lie by telling those closest, they are doing a loved one or neighbor a favor by participating at all.

My reason for being witness to this event was to remember and remind myself that many people, are great actors and possess the ability to camouflage their true karma and outward appearance. As it should be, with every breath, a million times before that drop of sweat tickling your cheek intermingles with your one line, intermingling with the excruciatingly decadent moment, you waited your whole life for.......your performance.

Blinding incandescent overhead lights threaten to expose your inner soul to hundreds of imposters, yet you breath. An actor knows that at the edge of the stage waits the very beast they seek all their lives to slay, themselves.

The creatures in the front row pay dearly to see others become everything they are not; they pay to see the great charade. When all but the most arrogant know the charade started that same morning as the sun's warmth shone through lace curtains.

Under the painted guise of humility, bright lights, and pain, with their own salt stinging their lips, actors let us sleep with our frailties, our silent insecurities, and by doing so, garner an inner strength of character most will never attain. The actors in this room, although not sanctioned, join the ranks of formidable accomplices in life.

Uncles and Aunts are notorious for being actors and liars when hiding despair from their loved ones, while truth from a simple fisherman is always suspect, and more so the older the hook, the liar becomes!

Women are just as bad. Fingers with splinters were divine creations for women. The pain was almost too much to bear; yet the first words out of your mother’s mouth, “Oh, that’s not so bad”, a con that if said using the right inflection, works to this day. Not wanting to look the pansy, you played along; nevertheless, your eyes were welling up when she tried to dig it out with a needle because no matter what she said during her game of reverse psychology, that minute piece of wood burrowed deeper!

The wonderful thing about the whole experience is that if you looked closely at your mother or aunt, you found out how much you loved them. By looking in their eyes during the splinter task, the fear of hurting you almost stopped their breathing. Like the people in this small room, they were acting; acting for you.

Then again, perhaps this is the only place these charlatans can be themselves and show the pain or disappointment because there are no family members accompanying them. Perhaps, this is the 'dressing room'?

Consider the woman standing at the reception counter. If ever so briefly while turning slightly to look back in the direction of the waiting patients, she nonchalantly glances from side to side. If she cannot find someone looking back at her, she will surely die. When her momentary, nonchalant stare does meet someone looking back, she wonderers if that person knows, if only for a moment, they were included in her world; if I can see you, and you can see me, I live, but if no one returns the glance, real sadness can set in, the despair that brought her here for that annual test, worsens, as there is no one to share it with, no one looking back, no one sharing the moment. !

But today, as luck would have it, I was watching, and the instant our eyes met, I smiled, and we were now and forever part of each other’s life. We are now and forever emotionally linked. Tied together by deception shining brightly when we catch someone looking in our direction who is obviously in dire circumstances. A wry smile from across the room is all that is needed to convey a camaraderie and companionship in the art of deception found nowhere else on earth. After all, there is an art to hiding pain from those who know you carry it. Your performance must be extraordinary in the eyes of need

It’s quite another to hide it from someone feeling the same pain sitting across the room from you; for they too know the game, and to fool them one must raise deception to an art form. It is fair to say, some hide feelings and pain for their own benefit, but the sacrifice of life for ‘charade’ is for someone special they love dearly, someone they live for. As mentioned previously, to participate in this charade, in this room, without knowing the players is remarkable.

As always, our species try to hide the inevitable from those who love us most. It is not the act of deception that is loved and revered, but the knowing in your heart you are worthy the practice of deception by another which raises your head.

You are thought worthy of the kindest lie. Most impersonators know the truth, yet they come here to hone their skills of deception for the day will come when they cannot deceive the others; and they know it, as do the others.

Like a dog digging holes to die in, because they know the time is near. These charlatans hone their art on each other’s etched faces and blurred vision just because.

If need be, they can also grimace and cry out in pain with nary a look. When this troupe hear cries and whimpers, they know all too well, one of two things has occurred. On the one hand, the person is a novice at deception and is new to the room; or the other, the pain is so unbearable the actor has played the charade to well, even the director was fooled as to the severity of burden. Either way, silence! The stage is theirs!

Your part... an air of indifference so as to keep the pain 'in the troupe. After all, this is our play, our stage, our dear friend who necessity forced the dear to forget her lines!

Many forget their lines, and through no fault of their own, stare into nothingness remembering better days while waiting to hear their name called by the young thing, or wait to be awakened from a past life by a warm, tender, hand holding a clipboard, and reaching out to help them rise.

This tiny space is occupied by some of the finest actors in the world; not by design, rather necessity and fear.

Many times, the welling in their eyes is not for themselves, but for you who they know have yet to hone your acting skills, for if they catch a hint of sadness in your eyes when you look back at them, you have yet to become an ‘actor extraordinaire’ and have no business sitting their stage in this special room. You must learn the “everything is going to be fine, I’m here with you” look.

You must never let them think their performance is anything other than extraordinaire. Because, if you do, other than ad-lib, indifference, lies, deception, pain, tears, or the aloof, you have no seat or appointment in a "hospital waiting room". The End.