Page 44 - WTP Vol. IX #5

Waiting (continued from page 30)
ter’s edge. She savored the warmth and let it play over her. It was soothing, relaxing. She hadn’t let herself relax much that day, having used her body to explore the castle and her mind to understand the prisoner. She wondered why no one else got off the line to seize some moments of pleasure. These people were like her patients, she thought, unable to free themselves to enjoy what there was to enjoy. The subject of tyranny had been on Vivian’s mind all day. She longed to forget it now as she sat down on the pier, took off her sandals and dipped her feet into the lake.
Yet her conscience wouldn’t let her rest for long. Soon she got up briskly, walked to the guide who was on the telephone. She tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention since the guide had her back to her. “Ex- cuse me, can you tell me why we are delayed?
“What is it? What do you want? Don’t you see I am on the telephone,” growled the woman. She again peered over her list of names. “Who might you be?” she de- manded. Her imperious tone startled Vivian. “We’re not collecting the group return passes until the boat arrives,” she offered angrily.
“I’m with the group,” Vivian replied. “I just want to know why we are delayed.” There was silence. The guide exchanged glances with the private boat agents, then again with Vivian.
“We don’t know,” offered the guide at last. “We can only tell you there will be some delay.”
“You mean you don’t know how long we may still have to stand here before the boat arrives?” said Vivian.
There was only silence.
She walked over to the line. One elderly man said, “Is there anything wrong?”
“I don’t know,” said Vivian, “but there is going to be more of a delay. They won’t tell me anything else.”
“We’ll just wait. It can’t be too much longer,” he said smiling optimistically under his jaunty blue beret. He went back to chattering with his wife in French.
An English couple next asked her what was happen- ing. “I don’t know,” she said. “They won’t tell me.”
“We’ll just stay queued up here until we get some feedback,” said the Englishwoman with equanimity and determination. She straightened the dark jacket
of her suit. There were blotches of perspiration under the arms as the woman attempted to make the tight envelope fit less snugly without removing it, ignoring the fact that, since she was visiting a resort, she could dress with less restraint. She said to the people lined up behind her, “That’s it. Just stay in line. No need to be restless. Let’s be civilized. We’ll be moving soon.”
A few people nodded their heads meekly in agree- ment and just shifted from one foot to the other.
A five-year-old squirmed and sat on the ground in response to this assurance. A young man took out a flute and focused the group’s attention by playing a hypnotic tune.
Watching the people on line, Vivian thought again of the poem. These people were like the trapped broth- ers chained to the columns, who “could not move a single pace,” who “could not see each other’s face,” so placed were they to have their spirits broken. Lined up front to back, each man on line was separated from his fellow, viewing backs and not faces.
Vivian thought them all ridiculous for standing on line when no one would tell them what the problem was. She refused to give up her freedom because some bureaucracy wanted to keep her under its thumb.
“So, I’ll lose my place in line,” she thought. “I’ll still get on the boat when it comes.” She wandered further and further away from the group and started to investigate the shoreline. There were old rambling hotels, one after another, picturesque with their
red and white striped awnings. She peered into the picture windows and spied on couples having late afternoon coffee and selecting pastries from a varied array on teacarts, so very old world, so very leisurely. Every hotel window showed the same scene. The sweet morsels certainly looked delectable. In some windows, Vivian saw waiters lighting candles against the approaching dusk.
The diminishing light made her realize that some time had passed. She returned to the line, afraid she might have missed the boat altogether. She had for- gotten all about it during her explorations. By now it was at least two hours that the people had been wait- ing on the double line. Vivian stared at the group in disbelief. They were all still standing where she had left them. They seemed frozen in their places. No one was complaining. No one seemed angry. No one was asking for explanations.
The guide was now standing inside of a booth. Vivian tapped on the window with her knuckles. Again indif-
37