She is scared, its time to go to bed. Some actually do sleep, for her, it’s a different story. The darkness of her thoughts wouldn’t let her. It was her time to think. What is life, how will she come out the other end, will she even make it half way? Cheerless, a philosophy so sorrowful her life had become. A mass of problems if presented as a system of the carriage and the road so crowded and bumpy. She was dizzy a feeling that reminded her of her evening dosage. Her energy supplements. She needed them to keep going. Again what is life, why is she fighting so hard to keep living. Was it necessary?
The ending is usually everything and for some reason, she was just tired. She thought of her job, her salary which was enslaved to her medication, the higher she earned, the higher it seemed the price of her medication. She never bothered about a promotion at work. She didn’t care.
She examined her phone closely so, and quiet it really was. She thought of her old friends, they no longer talk anymore. “I am no longer worth anything, nothing is worth anything, life is not worth anything.” Such a judgment of course always remains very dangerous and contagious. Many times poisonous when it perforates the mind.
Decisions have consequences, but when you are so close to the edge does it matter? Hers was to take all her two-week prescription tablets at once. Perhaps the most difficult part is making that decision. Then her phone wrung. Startled her hand twitched and the pills fell scattering on the floor. She gazed as though what happened was so stupid. And reached for the phone as if some explanation would come from receiving. She was scathing on the inside, why the timing? Why after she had gone through the channels of decision making.
Listening to the caller, she wondered why someone would struggle using the words, “darling” and “miss” in the same sentence while addressing her. She thought of her brother. She could spend time listening to him, a master of words. His voice though triggered her senses somewhat and for a moment she realised she was in too deep. In a world where everything was irrelevant, her morals included. A world where she thought of a chosen death as dying proudly when it was no longer possible to live proudly. And that such fitted the definition of timely death. And for sure all that explained but one thing.
“Little, can you hear me?” he had asked more than once. His voice wary and concerned and his words could tell. “Of course I can hear you,” she answered. “Hows life treating you?” he asked. Oh, how she hated that question, but he was the only one who could get away with such. She laughed as though it was all rosy, a laugh that metamorphosed into a sad little smile. She knew he couldn’t see, it was just a voice call. “I was checking on you,” he said and that’s as far as he could get. And so she was wrong someone cared.
She was staring contemplatively at the pills on the floor when a voice called. Her mom was standing by the door. Her dad was not far she knew, for sure she wasn’t wrong. They loved her. They notice the tablets on the floor and help pick. She smiled a rather dry smile and they smiled back. She wondered as they exited her room if they only knew what she almost did, would they have smiled back. Would they have gone to bed knowing she will be alright? What was she really lacking anyway, was it self-love, was it those flowery words or just a reminder. An insight into the beauty of life?
She closed her eyes and was awoken by her phone ringing again. It was her doctor, she could barely remember her appointment the next morning. “Great news, great news, we can schedule your operation any time as long as you are ready,” he said. And that her medical report was comprehensive. He added that it would take approximately twelve hours. “How on earth was that great news,” she failed to understand. She just didn’t get it. Was he just happy to wield the scalpel on her skin, her weak body? The answer remained an area of concern. He was the kind who would tell your estimated time of death as though it was the beginning of the greatest celebration on the universe. There was nothing she could think or say and so she hang up, besides she wasn’t ready for such news. He called again to explain that it would be in her best interest to discontinue her medication. She was confused and sad. Sad that she had to forget what she had invested in. Considerably annoyed that it should have been her idea and not someone else’s opinion. At least she had a divergent reasoning. She glanced at the pills now on a nightstand. There was that dilemma; toss or keep. And keeping them was another danger.
The singing birds, the sun hitting her window at the perfect spot where rays could just slip in and disturb the small darkness in her room. It was morning and she had not enjoyed her sleep. The sensation of falling and yet there is no ups and downs, no air resistance no bumping on tree branches; the beauty of dreams. In that morning mix, her phone wrung. She didn’t look up, she wasn’t interested. Even so, she wrestled with the possibility that it was her doctor. She had to check, she really had to. And for some reason, she hated the idea more than the possibility itself. She was tired. The caller was her long-lost friend. His voice seized hold of her breath. When she broke free, and for the first time she shouted. His reason for calling was the more thrilling and for a moment it seemed as though her pangs of despair had withered. He wanted to pass by. He had missed her greatly he confessed.
Her real joy manifested when he rolled into their compound. “Oh, I’m so pleased to see you,” she shouted the moment she set her eyes on him. They had been best friends and the desire to move places had separated them. “I can’t be happier, and frankly I couldn’t stop smiling when I learned, to see you this day was inevitable,” he said. At least there still was that connection, thick and strong. It turns out he knew about her appointment and was more than ready to drive her there. Catching up she realised he actually knew so much about her later life. And was surprised that her life was shrouded in silence that she couldn’t hear or see the obvious; he was in touch with her brother.
When they left for the hospital, she seemed as peaceful and calm as the water by night. But the disease in her was corroding that peace fraction by fraction. “In a fine body, we would be speeding off to somewhere fun, things really change,” her words were hollow and devoid of hope. His words were all the difference. “You mustn’t worry, things really do change. It may be difficult today and tomorrow may prove better,” encouraging and soothing.
She was waiting on a bench outside when she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. Turning around her friend was smiling, next to him was the man she loved. And she figured it out. It was clear as when the camera lens is brought into focus. Her friend calling the morning of her appointment and his better half at the hospital. The two wonderful people she knew had conspired. They had it all planned. What a conspiracy!
Something had changed in her by degrees. She thought of the wasted nights of sleep, afraid of not waking up. She thought of the rare joys of knowing there is no time to waste and that every moment every second count. She thought of what it is to be strong, the value of strength. But then she understood that the value of a thing sometimes does not lie in that which one attains by it, but in what one pays for it. What it costs. It didn’t matter if she was going to die in the operation room or die from her disease eventually. “If you think you must die, if you don’t you’ll still die anyway,” she thought.