Throwin' mama from the book

My youngest daughter Helena is pretty sick, and I spent part of this evening sitting at the Urgent Care. We got there around five, and when we walked in, the nurse informed us the current wait was around three hours. So I called work and told them I was using a sick day, and with feverish Helena passed out on my shoulder, I sat down in the only available chair in the packed waiting room, and I began to read my book:

Fool's Errand, by Robin Hobb. (I haven't gotten very far in the book, but it's great so far.)

Anyway, we'd been sitting for only a few minutes when they called our name. I assumed it was just for triage, so I put the book down on my chair next to her large diaper bag and headed to the back. As it turned out, our file got accidentally swapped, or Helena looked sicker than everyone else, or something, but it wasn't just for triage. We were back, in the little room waiting for the doctor, and even though that waiting room was full of miserable people who probably should have gone back there sooner than us, I wasn't going to say anything. Not tonight, not with a sick baby.

At this point I'm mostly concerned about my daughter, but I also begin to worry about my book. I felt kind of bad, leaving it on the chair with the diaper bag right there, taking up a spot when it was standing room only. I hoped someone would just pick it up and put it on the table. But I was afraid I was going to go back out there, and it was going to be gone.

Helena, in one of her better days

You see, I have terrible luck with books I'm in the middle of. They drop in the toilet. They catch on fire. They disappear into thin air. There are countless novels out there I am perpetually in the middle of, and it's all because of my bad book luck.

So after I talk to the doctor and get her antibiotic prescription, we head back out to the lobby. It's been about an hour.

My book is not gone. In fact, it's where I left it. But now it's being held by this older woman, and she's reading it. She's on page 10 or 11, and she looks riveted. The woman is kind of scary looking, kind of like the actress Anne Ramsey when she played Mama from Throw Mama from the Train or the evil Mama Fratelli in Goonies. The diaper bag is on the floor next to the chair, and with the baby still on my shoulder, I lean in and pick up the bag and put it over my other shoulder.

I look at the old lady and gather up my courage. As much as I think Robin Hobb deserves double royalties for that book, I wasn't going to go buy another one.

"Uh, hi. Could I please have my book back?"

The old woman looks up from the book, looking me up and down. "I thought this was just here."

"No," I say. "Sorry. It's my book."

She pauses for a long moment. Every eye in the waiting room is on me. I can feel they're all on her side. Most of the people recognize me as the guy who got in early.

She says, "I can keep this if I want."

I reach down underneath the book, which is still clutched firmly in both her hands, and I pull it free, just like that. The whole maneuver took less than a second. I turn, and I march out of the waiting room.

She calls out as I leave, "You're lucky you have a baby with you!"

And that's what happened to me tonight. Would you have done the same thing?