TW: predatory behavior
I am a medical receptionist in a small clinic. I won’t go into too much detail about this clinic, since I don’t want to be identified, but one thing I can say: I see a LOT of people come and go.
All ages, all ethnicities, all temperaments. There are so many people in a day, in a week, in a month that it’s hard to remember any of them or our brief interactions. But there is one patient I will always remember. You may call me crazy or say I made this all up, but everything I saw that day was real.
This incident I’m about to describe took place on a Friday evening, near the end of my shift. Even though it was already dark outside, my spirits were high, and I was looking forward to going to the pumpkin patch with my family the following day.
The last patient of the day shuffled in, an older gentlemen I didn’t recognize. We get a lot of the same people coming in once or twice or even three times a week depending on the service they’re receiving. It’s easy for me to get to know certain people and for people to know me as long as they come in frequently.
But I didn’t know this man.
It didn’t feel odd, though. Like I said, I see a lot of people, but we also need to wear masks while inside the clinic. There are regulars who come in that I can never recognize simply because of the mask.
So, I checked him in like I do countless other people. He seemed a little confused and was kind of early, but he nodded when I confirmed his name. He was very friendly and upbeat. He moved around the small waiting area looking at all the flyers, herbs, and products on display. We sell supplements and he asked me about one. Since he was being so nice, I even got up from my desk and talked to him for a bit, explaining it and sharing my personal experience taking that supplement. He seemed appreciative and we laughed about something he said before I returned to my seat behind the front desk. He took a seat as well and that was that. All the providers were tucked away in the back rooms, and his wouldn’t be ready for another twenty minutes. He just had to wait for a while.
A few minutes later, I got up from my seat and he gave me a soft, acknowledging nod. I smiled as I went into the break room to check on laundry. Laundry at a small clinic is never ending and I’m always checking it to make sure the providers don’t run low on sheets.
After checking everything was good, I went back out to the front desk and paused when I noticed a small child now sitting in the waiting room, all alone. The kid was maybe five or six, sitting in one of the big plastic chairs and swinging his short legs.
But it wasn’t the kid that made me freeze in place. It was the old man.
The usual peace and calm of the clinic was gone. The noise machine that played waves crashing on a beach only sounded like white noise, static, and the gentle relaxation music coming from the speakers was darker, the piano’s melody reminding me of the subtle scores usually played at the highest moment of tension in a horror movie.
I watched as the old man leaned forward in his seat, eyes trained on the kid. His voice was sweet but just a bit too loud for the quiet clinic.
“Hi there,” he said with a glitter in his eye. “Hey, what’s your name?”
The kid glanced at him but looked away, still swinging his legs.
“Hey,” the old man said again, louder this time, as if the kid simply hadn’t heard him. “Hey, what’s your name, huh? What’s your name?”
The kid said nothing, dutifully ignoring him and glancing over his shoulder at the bathroom. I wondered why he looked in that direction and assumed his parent was using it. Why else would there be a random, unattended child in the waiting area?
I watched, tense as I felt some sick emotion twist my gut and send my heart into a racing gallop. Neither of them had seen or heard me reenter the room, so I knew the man thought they were alone.
The old man’s eyes remained bright and cheerful, but he was laser focused on the boy—as if nothing and no one else existed.
Despite his expression, his tone was off, almost like he was annoyed that the kid was ignoring him. The man gestured at his chest in a clawing motion. “I like the Mickey Mouse on your shirt. It’s very cute. Do you like Mickey Mouse?” No response. “Hey, I asked if you like Mickey Mouse?”
His questions were persistent and becoming aggressive, the actual words innocent but said in an angry tone.
I could see as the kid debated with himself on whether to answer him or not. His head twitched in an uncertain nod when asked if he liked Mickey Mouse but stopped when he glanced back at the closed bathroom door again. He’d probably been told never to speak to strangers, and I felt relieved every moment he said nothing in response.
The man’s eyes narrowed, and I saw his rage for the first time. Where there was once a kind old man asking me about supplements, there was now a monster with beady black eyes, glaring at the young child he was failing to lure with sweet, innocuous questions.
The man lowered his cloth mask, revealing a too-wide grin. His eyes were dead and cold and small like a sharks. In contrast, his smile was manic, twisted with evil intent. The boy refused to look at him anymore, not seeing the evil smile being sent his way, but it was all I could see.
The yellowing teeth. The red gums. The corners of his mouth reaching halfway up his cheeks.
As the man slowly rose from his seat, fists clenched at his sides, I took a step forward, ready to intercept whatever such a look forebode for the small child.
But then the bathroom door opened with a loud click and a whoosh, and a young woman walked out, darting over to the boy.
Distracted, she grabbed his hand and marched him out of the clinic with a brisk, “Okay, let’s go.”
When I looked back at where the old man had been standing, I flinched. Confusion and horror filled me. The old man was gone, as if he’d never been there.
The bell chimed as another patient walked into the clinic, moving me into the next moment before I could process what had just happened. He wanted to check in for his appointment when there was no one else left on the schedule. Confused, I asked his name. When he told me, all my thoughts crashed into each other. He was giving me the name the old man had said was his.
Sometimes patients walk in and don’t introduce themselves, so I have to dig and ask if they’re so-and-so. Which is what I’d done with the old man since he seemed lost.
But the old man hadn’t been a patient. He was just some person who walked in off the street and pretended to be someone else, calmly waiting for an appointment that wasn’t his.
After that, I checked every corner of the small clinic, making sure he was really gone, but the image of that grin haunted me, and chills ran up my spine until I left for the night.
I haven’t seen him since, of course. And I still can’t explain to myself what really happened that night. How could he have left the small room without me seeing him go? And what had he been planning to do before the child caught his attention? Because the kid wasn’t there when he decided to fuck with me and pretend to be a patient.
It was just him and me. Alone.
I hope I never know.