Envelop

The blearing buzzing of the fluorescent light that lit up the clinically white walls was no brighter than a dying candle—and I would have completely lost it, if it weren’t for Jenna who laid ever-so peacefully in front of me. Her hand rested on mine as lightly as a falling feather in a salt summer breeze, and was probably just as pale. It wasn’t that long ago she had been pacing outside, whipping the long grass with her tender feet—playing football with the kids. Man, nothing could get her competitive self to hold back, even though the kids were half her height, they got what they had coming. 

Every time she shifted her weight, if you could call it weight—my damn heart jumped out of me and ran a hundred miles an hour across the tiled floor before it ran out of breath and climbed back down my throat. During one of the usual races her frail voice squeaked:

“Will you wait with me?”

How could she ever think otherwise? I wanted to headbutt the beeping machinery she was hooked up to.

“Of course” I said, or wanted to say. I think the sounds I made were more like stifled hulks than anything else. Her eyes held such life, even then. As she laid there with the paper thin blanket up to her chin, with me hovering over her, tears streaming. She seemed like the adult, comforting me as if I were one of the kids who’d slipped and burned a knee in the field.

Through my manly tears I glanced at that beautiful smile of hers. The one she always cracked when I said yes to massaging her feet. The one she generously gave to anyone who had a shitty day. The one that made me fall in love with her.

I don’t know how much time passed, but the sound of speeding engines on the highway outside slowed down, as did the shuffling of busy feet in the corridor just outside her room. Some part of me wishes it hadn’t, that way I wouldn’t have had my heartstrings snipped.

“They need a mother.” she whispered.

Her words kicked me in the gut. I didn’t think I could feel any sicker, but boy does life have it for you sometimes.

“They need you” I croaked back.

Her smile faded with the light box. I could see she struggled to lift her hand to feel my leathery face, so I hugged her close. Her brown hair seemed awfully muted as it clung stuck to my tear-filled face. Before long, I felt the slightest push, and the light breathwork that tickled my ear hastened and became louder, before it slowed down, and showed no sign of speeding back up.

I let her push me back just enough to look into her glassy eyes. The film that covered them is what broke me—along with her last words. I don’t think I’ll ever forget them, but I’ll need another glass before I can face them again.

Tell me one thing, how can words of compassion sting so much?

Just like that; like a bee, drizzled in blinding gold, she flew off.