Best Friend Forever

We were sprawled on the hospital bed, counting all the dead people we had kissed.

“My teenage boyfriend, the one who killed himself.”

“The tennis-player in college. Those shorts!”

“How about the boy across the street? His sister was so appalled I had touched her precious brother. She’s dead now, too. At least I never kissed her.”

“Well I did. Summer of Love Redux, baby!” 

She loved to say stuff for shock value and as usual my startle reflex made her laugh.

“Well, aren’t you the judgey one,” she said.

The doctor came in, his stethoscope dangling.  “I bet he’s going to Halloween as a doc-tah,” she stage-whispered behind her bruised hand. He smiled and pulled the curtain around her and once again I was on the outside.

“This will take a while, she called through the fabric. “Bring me back something Halloween-y. We’ll trick-or-treat the ward!”

To spend her bit of remaining time being monitored like that─ what good did it do? She was going as fast as she could.

I took the elevator to the lobby and went into the gift shop. I could only get whatever she could consume in one sitting. To leave anything unfinished upset her. Candy had to be a couple of ounces at most, the flowers, fully blown. She couldn’t save anything for later, because later may not come. I picked up a sugar skull and decided she could eat that in one setting. It looked macabre enough for her dark humor too. And then I noticed the costumes. The only ones left were ghosts and witches, so I bought one of each. I knew which one she’d grab. She’d say she’s halfway there.

I paid, and then watched the bank of elevators inhale and exhale people for a minute. I couldn’t face getting in, so I turned and walked out of the building. I pulled down my mask and breathed deeply of the autumn, walking until there was no trace of hospital disinfectant in the air. I told myself I would go back to her room in a minute, but first there was a garden of chrysanthemums to sit among and some memories to sift through. I thought about the ways people say goodbye: my mother standing at the door of the hospice, waving, as yet another patient was removed; my friend leaning over white satin to kiss her father on his waxy lips; my uncle shaving his estranged son during his final hours.

At least I showed up in time.
“Better late than never,” she’d said.
I’ll miss her. I wonder if the ghosts miss anyone.

Cheryl Snell