Alyssa Duran- Week Three- Story 3 (mini-workshop)

The Reading

The building was decrepit and the people inside were equally just as aged. Alice was their opposite and she felt it. Her class had made it a requirement to do community service. Some people had chosen to clean a park and others had helped the hospitals for a day. Alice and a couple of friends had chosen to read a book to an elder for an hour. This had seemed easy enough and short enough. Other opportunities had been posted for far longer than the hour and she was not prone to an excess amount of work. Yet, she was depressed by the mass re-scheduling that took place a few days before with her and her friends and now she was alone.
The doors were bubbled over in ancient tint and they creaked open as she stepped inside, tightening her grip on her thick book. The room was dimly lit and silent. The carpet was burgundy and had a plush, sinking feeling under her feet. She heard the gurgling air of the water from the fish tanks off to the side of her as the little fish swam happily in their cages. A little dusty lady sat at the register table and eyed her suspiciously. She walked with tentative steps and set her book down, letting the woman see the title.
“I’m here to read. My school should have called.” The little woman blinked slowly, comprehending her words. Then, with a difficult effort, she nodded in understanding, as if her neck would break if she did it too hard.
“Room 139. He’s waiting.” She handed Alice a little hand-written nametag. The letters of her name were large and slanted, written with careful execution while still maintaining the sloppy aspect that was the woman’s trademark. Alice grabbed it and stuck it to the front of her striped shirt, thanked the woman, and made her way down the hall to the inevitable room.
The hall was far more silent than the lobby had been. There were no gurgling fish to take the grave-like atmosphere away. Alice could feel it full force and she huddled her arms around her chest as if she were going to freeze.
Room 139 was not as far down as Alice thought as she reached the white, peeling door. She knocked lightly, knowing her knock would not be heard. For a moment, she thought, if the mystery elder in there did not answer she could go, but she knew she had a duty to her grade. She needed to pursue this goal. She waited, but no one came, so she opened the door and peered inside.
An old man in a blue recliner sat patiently waiting for her to come in. “I can’t get to the door too quick.” He explained as he saw her head poke in from behind the door. “I can’t speak too loudly either.” This was true. His throat was raspy and laden with years of smoking cigarettes. “Please come in. You can take that chair.” His wrinkled hands ushered towards a little metal folding chair stationed under a crooked desk.
Alice grabbed the chair and positioned herself across from him. The man seemed familiar to her, but she thought nothing of it. She opened her book and took a breath to read her book.
“Wait.” The old man sat up a bit. Alice looked at him. “What are you reading to me?”
“It’s just a bunch of stories.” The man eyed her, waiting for a better answer. “Well, they’re mystery stories. There’s nothing really special about it, just a bunch of stories. You like mysteries?”
“I’ve liked them since I was a little boy. You made a good choice.” Alice gave a weak smile and stared down at the page, preparing herself for the first story. She felt uncertain as she read the book, the words coming out of her mouth in shaky syllables. The man was watching her steadily, that made her cheeks burn and her body twitch in her seat. She was simply uncomfortable.
When she had finished her tale, one of a man who had been murdered by his wife and then framed his mistress, she looked up at the man in his chair to see if he had fallen asleep. He had not said a word the entire time but his eyes were wide open and centered on her face.
“Are you alright?” She questioned him warily. Her heart fluttered in her chest. There was a chance he was not as fine as he had seemed when she first came in. She wondered if she would have to call a nurse. His gaze seemed glossed over as if he were in deep concentration, but then he shifted his weight in the chair and came back to reality.
“I know you.” He stated in a monotone voice, his eyes had become very serious. Alice was stunned, for a moment she had nothing to say, but a slow realization drifted down upon her and she became tense with anger.
“I know you too.”
“You put me in prison for a year.”
“You put me in therapy for two.” She stood up, unsure of what her next move should be. She wanted to hit him, to yell at him, but all she could do was check her watch, “Your hour’s up.” She made her way to the door and stopped, remembering to stay polite aside from all her anger. That had been the past, she told herself. “I hope you liked the story.”
“It was rather enjoyable. Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for listening.”
“Do you hate me?”
“Yes.” She slammed the door behind her and made her way down the hall. She wondered why it was she got that room with that man, but she didn’t care about him anymore. What she cared about was that she had left the book on the floor in her frenzy, and she knew she could never go back to get it. She sighed. She wanted a nap.