“Guess who’s here?” a bouquet of roses floated from behind the open door.
The mom laughed. “Hmm, maybe it is a flower ghost…”
“Noo,” the voice mimicked the woo of a ghost from an old horror movie.
“Ooof, I’m getting the chills. Achoo, achoo. It must be the flower ghost playing pranks on people with pollen allergy. Achoo.”
A little girl in a floral dress peeped into the room giggling, cheeks as red as the roses, “It’s meee.”
“Oh my God! I really thought it was the flower ghost. Achoo.”
She walked in and handed the flowers to her mom, then ran across the room looking at the various monitors which had numbers and strange signals a five year old could not comprehend. “eight… eighty… six…, eight… eighty… nine, …” She looked on the other screen “I know these numbers too,” she pointed at the monitor “twelve…”
“Hundred…, honey.” The mom pointed at the monitor,
“One hundred and… twenty two!” She said proudly after the brief struggle with the numbers.
“You’re doing great!” The mom cheered before asking her, “Where’s dad?”
“He said he was busy with paper-work,” she said, and wondered if her dad also had to write exams. “The exam must have been really hard, his face was all like this…” she said scrunching her face. She skipped across the room again and making the window her next target.
Her mom laughed awkwardly, looking at the girl playing with her pigtails, the curtains and occasionally waving at the kids playing in the tiny green strip outside. “I wish I could have come your entrance ceremony. It’s almost been a year huh?” she whispered to herself.
The hospital itself wasn’t inconvenient — there was a TV in the room to keep her entertained, the nurses were helpful and checked on her regularly, the room being on the first floor meant she could easily go out for a walk and her family visiting every evening meant she wasn’t alone for long. It was the chemotherapy that was taking a toll on her physically and mentally. She was constantly nauseated and had already lost a lot of weight. The hospital drained the positivity she had left in her. The flowers on the counter freshened the room and added color to the dull interiors. But importantly, it reminded her of the cheerful family she had. They were trying their best to uplift her spirit.
The girl saw the usual kids playing tag but had zero interest in joining them. It was much more fun sitting with her mom and talking about the different things that happened in her day. After bouncing around the room like a pinball, she was suddenly fixated on the waving trees in the backyard garden.
She must be practicing spelling the words in her head. I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked me to tell the names of all the flowers they planted. Should I ask to get a book for her?
“Don’t open the window dear, the dust isn’t good for mom,” a deep voice came from outside the door again.
It was a square window straight across the door of the hospital room, away from the bed and the equipment. The view wasn’t grand — it was one of the 10 buildings with the same structure and the same repeating square windows on the wall ten floors high — but the tiny green space between the buildings bought the view to life. Benches where patients and visitors sat under trees with plenty shade, kids running across and colorful flower beds maintained well. Even though the view was a bit far for the mom, she could see people all day. She was grateful to find that place for admission.
Snapping back to reality, she saw her daughter on her toes, struggling to open the window. “It’s okay, I could use some fresh air,” she smiled. But the girl didn’t care anymore. She had already found the next victim — her dad.
“I met a boy!” She jumped onto him, excited to tell her tale. “He lives in 108, in the next building in front of us.” Her tone went down after she realized why people come to hospitals, “Is he sick too?”.
“I don’t know honey, he must be visiting someone, just like you.” He was still standing at the door, catching a blurry glimpse of a boy with his myopic eyes. “Aren’t you miss popular?” he added, tickling her while holding her in his arms.
“He was the one who waved at me.” she squirmed. “He did this thing where the window wasn’t shiny anymore. And then he started writing HI.” Her eyes sparkled, still clinging onto him.
Her dad couldn’t understand what she meant and just said “Ohh, interesting…” but he did know she wouldn’t let go until she could do the same. He looked at his wife, confused and pleading.
After thinking for a while, the mom exclaimed, “I think he was fogging the window…” surprised how the girl didn’t know how to fog the window…
The dad walked towards the window and blew warm air on the window for her. “Do you wanna write something here?” he said, taking her finger in his hand, ready to scribe.
“M… O… M…,” she spelled on the window before the fog cleared up. She blew on the window again, unsatisfied. “The boy’s window was not shiny for loooong. And the entire window was… fogged.” She pouted.
“He must have strong lungs. I’m old, darling.” the father replied. How strong are kids these days? It beats me. Even this kid has unlimited energy, oh God. “Lets start heading out soon, it’s getting dark.” He knew a tantrum would surely follow and braced himself physically.
The kid asked to be let down, got into her mom’s bed under the sheets, and said “You can leave, I’m staying here today.”
This is a new move… the dad thought. Another set of confused eyes followed.
“You have school tomorrow. And you didn’t get your brush here. Why don’t we have a sleepover on the weekend? You can do your homework here and then we can play?”
She popped up from under the sheets and went “Booo…”. Everyone laughed. “We have a deal!” She said with a mature tone of a car salesman.
Where does she learn these things? Both of them looked at each other. The husband handed the papers with a glum face, whispering, “It looks like there’s not much progress… We might have to try something different.”
“It’s okay, I feel better day by day, it’s going to start working out soon.” she whispered back before they took their leave for the day.
Friday was here. After packing a long list of items for the night she was staying over, she ran to her dad who just picked her up from school after a long day at work. “Let’s gooo, I’m ready.” She jumped up and down.
“Let’s get you something to eat before we leave.” He prepared a bowl of milk and cereal for her before crashing on the sofa for a while. When he woke up, he saw the little bear snuggling beside him. It was almost dark. Shit, how long was I asleep for? He looked at his phone. It was almost 6AM.
He had never fallen asleep for that long. The kid being tired was also strange. Maybe the stress was slowly getting to the family. He felt bad for not visiting, so he prepared a heavy breakfast for the both of them before waking the girl up who didn’t take it well either. After a long struggle to get her calmed down, they reached the hospital.
Mom was, of course, very understanding. She knew how exhausted they must be even though they didn’t show it. With sunken eyes, and dried out skin, he looked sick as well. Except for the delay, the sleepover was on it’s way. She was excited to have her kid spend a few days with her.
“I’m sorry for not dropping by. I don’t know what happened last night.” He was sincerely apologetic and confused.
“It’s okay,” she was empathetic but didn’t tell them how she had a bad dream last night. She wondered if she felt lonely without them. But she didn’t want it to sound like an attack on them.
It was a long day packed with energy. They talked for a long time, went on short walks in the park and ate at the cafeteria together. And when the sun started setting and the energy died down, the girl started doing her homework while her dad packed to leave for the night. It wasn’t a usual practice for people to stay over. He knew enough people to get the permission for a kid.
“I’m done with my homework!” The tiny voice screamed, sprouting up from the desk originally meant to be a side table.
Her mom, exhausted from helping her out and engrossed in a magazine she had just picked up, asked her to go play or read a book on her own, to which the girl complied.
She took out a storybook and read for a while, flipping pages through the book, intently staring at it once in a while. That book was clearly beyond what she could understand but she kept at it until her energy gave out. She took out another book, this one a picture book and a drawing pad and started scribbling words from the book. After a few words, she thought of the strange boy in the building across, and walked to the window. To her surprise, he was there, looking out of the window.
The boy could have been around 10 years, she couldn’t tell. She had asked him but he didn’t tell. She knew he was older than her because he could read and write in reverse! They took their time in writing out the conversations and the only sign it was happening was her heavy breath with all her might and an occasional comment to her mom, “He says he likes football.” followed by her mom’s uninterested “uhuh?”.
She wasn’t happy that mum wasn’t playing with her but she was too tired to throw a tantrum. And the conversation with the boy was very exciting — it was challenging for her to read what he wrote — far too exciting than reading a story book.
He talked about how he was admitted into the hospital, how he was sick and felt lonely most of the time. Lonely was a new word she knew, so she nodded along telling how she felt the same. She also wrote how she felt better when she visited her mom and when her dad cooked her good food. She told even though she didn’t like how she could only come here for the evenings, it was fun. The boy kept asking more questions to which she answered sincerely with her incomplete vocabulary.
At one point, she was so flush that her entire face was red, not just her usual cheeks. But the effort with which she had to huff and puff had reduced, the outside temperature was calming down with the sunset. Surprisingly, the view of the boy got better, now that the indoor lighting didn’t fight with the sun. So the girl kept going even though her fingers turned red with her face.
The night progressed and the entire hospital stood still in silence. You could hear rhythmic beeping of the monitor and occasional footsteps of the nurses. They treaded lightly. And when they didn’t, everyone knew something wasn’t going well.
The girl didn’t mind the darkness or the quiet stillness as the sun dropped and the trees slept. She was too mesmerized by the boy’s story. After a back and forth conversation for a long time, the boy bid adieu since his mom was going to be there soon. The sleepy girl also decided it was time to sleep. Her mom was obviously asleep after reading a boring magazine.
Forgoing the fold-up mattress, she snuck into her mom’s bed after diligently turning off the lights. There was no one to complain. However, as she got into the bed, all the monitors in the room started blaring. The little girl was shaken and tried waking her mom up. The nurses came in quickly, thanks to the room being close to the resting area. Her mum, on the other hand, never woke up.
The husband came in soon after the call. The rush was hard to handle but a nurse stayed with the kid while the doctors worked their usual procedure. It was a busy and long night for everyone.
The crying girl went to sleep in her dad’s arms oblivious to the voices around her. After the discussions with the hospital, the dad went to get her belongings to head back for the night. Everything was packed up by the girl, like she was asked to do every night.
As he left the room, he saw outside the window for the last time, the window frosted completely from the outside with a message, ”I WANT MOM, BYE!”, his own reflection and the room behind him.
Reflexively turning back, he saw the number plate on the door, “8-0-1”.