Days of Remedy

Part 9

It's been a week since I arrived at the hospital. Tired more than ever due to the pills, I sometimes confuse my room with the room next door. Doctor Yoshida said this side effect should pass in a few days, but the fact that nurses wake me up with a flashlight every night doesn't help. I asked my mum to bring me a blindfold so the light shining through the door window doesn't bother me as much.

Other than that, the days here are dull, and so are the rooms. When they showed me mine, there were only a simple bed, a side table, and a closet. I tried to decorate it with plushies and a fun flamingo table lamp, but it still didn't look like home. A young nurse saw me and offered to bring some animal posters, and I gladly accepted. When she talked to me, she was indeed an angel in disguise compared to the nurse I met at the health check-up. That one seemed annoyed even by my breathing, being rude to me every time she spoke up. She made a fuss about me not knowing the exact date of my last period and if someone in my family had ever had a stroke. After that encounter, I promised myself to avoid her at all costs in the future.

Mum called me daily so far, and dad also managed to speak to me a little. She should arrive later this afternoon since it's a visiting day. Until then, I decided to spend my time in the cafeteria, getting some snacks and reading books I had brought.

******

"Koyama! Here you are; someone is here to see you." The angelic nurse calls.

Mum arrived sooner than I expected. I scuttle down the corridor to the day room, but It's not mum who is waiting for me. Fujino is sitting on a bean bag with a small flower bouquet next to her lap, twiddling her fingers. Seeing her brings a big smile to my face, even though I feel this meeting might be a little awkward after what happened.

She tries to get up as soon as she spots me, but the sliding green carpet makes her lose her balance, falling right back. So I ask if she needs help, but she shakes her head, jumping right up.

"Hi," she says after clearing her throat nervously and shoves the flowers in front of my face. They have been slightly crushed by the fall, but I don't mind, even though Fujino seems embarrassed by it. I thank her as she wipes her hands from the wet flower stems into her jeans. It's a mix of ping gerberas and little, fuzzy wildflowers. Even though she might not understand flower language since most people don't, I do, and the fact that she picked those that symbolize appreciation and compassion means so much to me.

"They are beautiful," I say whole-heartedly, genuinely meaning it.

She smiles, "The florist helped me to choose. I didn't know what to bring, so I guessed flowers are a safe bet." Then, after a short and shy pause, she asks: "So, how's it going?"

Smirking, I say: "They didn't put me in a straitjacket today, so things are great." But when I see how shocked she is by my answer, I immediately explain that it was supposed to be a joke.

"Heh, so you have some dark sense of humor; that's good to know." Pointing at my white knitted sweater, she adds: "You look good for being at a hospital; where is your patient gown?"

I chuckle at such an unexpected comment: "We wear our own clothes here, I actually made this."

Her mouth falls open: "Made it? Like with your hands?"

"Do you think I made it with my legs or what?" I choke with laughter.

Realizing that her question was dumb, she laughs as well. Then, when we catch our breaths again, she examines the sweater a bit more, complimenting me on the flower details.

"I could never make something so nice, I am TERRIBLE at crafting. I mostly steal old clothes from my dad's closet, like this, " she points at the dark blue flannel shirt she is wearing. Even though she is very tall for a teenage girl, the shirt is clearly made for an adult man. I would never wear something this oversized and boyish, but it looks stylish on her.

The laughter soothed the awkward tension; however, the painful truth of the situation still lingers in the air. So I hesitantly ask what's been worrying me: "Has anyone been saying anything?"

She leans on the pink-pong table as I sit down on a chair: "Not really; the teacher told everyone that you probably got food poisoning and fainted, and nobody questioned it."

Relieved, I let out all the accumulated pressure from my chest in one big sigh. The smile from Fujinos face fades as she speaks up again: "Tell me, how are you...really?"

I hug one of my legs and rest my chin on the knee before I answer: "I don't know; I don't like this place. The nurses watch me all the time, day and night, and one of them is extra rude when the patients need something. I can't go outside the hospital, which drives me crazy since there is not much to do. We have a lot of free time and do arts and crafts, but it's not much fun. I thought I could knit some new sweaters here, but they took my knitting needles."

Listening carefully, she asks about the therapy.

"Well, the doctor said I suffer from depression and some other stuff. I talked to her a couple of times, but I don't think it's going anywhere. The group therapies are also a bit weak. The other doctor is apparently new here, so I guess he is trying not to be too intrusive, but most of the people don't want to talk that much."

"I see," she scratches her neck. Then her voice cracks: "You know I had a friend like you. She is not with us anymore."

I bulge my eyes, staring at her, putting pieces together. Her confirming look nails me to the chair, and all I can do is stutter a few words of condolence. Her wavy hair falls to her face, maybe on purpose, as Fujino directs her eyes to the ground. The loss is undoubtedly hurting; however, she continues: "I always thought that maybe if I did something more or differently, she could be here with me. We could laugh about how obvious it is that the geography teacher and baseball coach are dating or about the ridiculous shoes the headmaster wears. She could see my new kitten and scold me for giving it too many treats. Or anything; she could just exist, live life as everyone else."

As she flips her hair back, I can see her quivery smile and glassy eyes. "When you first came to the class, you were so...quiet. First, I thought that maybe you were just timid and I was only overthinking. But the more I looked at you, the more I realized that you might be the same as Rini. And since I didn't know what else to do, I kept trying to find some interesting topic to make you talk to me...at least a little."

Before I react, she jokingly adds: "Heh, one might say I almost stalked you because I was worried."

The virtue of her confession drills deep into my aching soul. A whirlwind of sadness, compassion, and bittersweet bliss blows inside me, reminding me how much I missed feeling something strong and meaningful. As I silently let those emotions set in, Fujino abruptly apologizes for saying too much. I try to assure her with a smile that I appreciate her honesty, but It may not work. Then, after the whole time staring down, she looks me in the eyes and says with all seriousness: "Koyama, you don't have to listen to me at all, but...please give the doctors a chance."

And with those words, she unexpectedly gives me a small dose of motivation to take my life into my own hands. But this time, in the right way.