"How's your body?" Dipta held my hand inside his jacket's pocket. The sun was too shy to show up. The cold from last night was still clinging to the ground.
"It's getting better," I said, plastering the most genuine smile I could muster. I should keep walking or else my tears will be breaching the egoistic dam I built.
"Something is wrong, Lish?" As always, Die could read between the line. She held my other hand and walking closer beside me on this morning walk routine.
"Not really." I could feel a slip in my tone. "It's my fault, I know."
Both Dipta and Die gave me a concerned look.
"Chris's live that night. You know, that one about karma." I looked at my shoes. The gravel under them were crunching. "I did some bad things to him, to them. And I taste my own medicine now." A sharp blade slitted my heart.
Die stopped her track and hugged me. "Oh, Lish. Don't think it that way. They are just too busy to call."
"World tour is not easy, Lish. You know that. Please, be patient." Dipta putted his hand over my head, gave me reassuring pats.
"Yeah. I can held it for over a year. One or two more will not hurt. Am I right?" My tears started falling, drenched Die's coat. "Sorry, guys."
"Let's just concentrate on your recovery."
I just smiled away. I had hopes, too. I wanted to be healthy again. I wanted to met my son. I wanted to go around the world again. I wanted to met them, those kids, the love of my life.
______
Fifteenth month of my journey to recovery gnawed my sanity little by little. Lack of connection with the outside world brought peace in me, yet the longing feeling sent me spiralling down to despair.
However, now and then, Dipta and Die would bring me down around the town after my treatment. They would buy me things to ease my mind. Anything that I wanted, they provided it without question.
I got canvases and high end paints. I had piles of fabrics and racks of yarns. I owned stacks of books to read and papers to write. I drew, I sewed, I painted, I knitted and crocheted, I embroidered, and I even weaved.
Dipta would sat and play instruments for me. He was halfway to become a professional like back then, when sun and all the planetary evolve around him. Die would steeped some teas. She would sat and telling gossips around her business circles, or ranting about someone who messed with her projects over the steaming cups.
Both of them had one of the guest rooms renovated for my art studio with finished works aligned along the wall. I had them curated and listed all of those works. So I only made and stored the arts. I hoped those pieces would become memoirs and helps after I'd gone.
Like that afternoon, after a morning stroll through the beach, I was occupied by threads and needles. My last embroidery painting of waves was almost done. A work that I made based on the life of a mere being called Lishany. A story that was written by puncturing fate represented by the fabric and adored the holes with hopes and efforts of threads linkages.
______
Some days I was good, other days I was loosing all my strength. Some times I get better, other times I was in the brink of death. My health would keep rising and plummeting like a never ending roller coaster.
I was okay with that. I only needed to regulate my daily activities and ongoing medications. The thing that kept me hoping to just ascend and met the Fairy Mama was how my two best friends tormented by my state.
I was in pain. Anything that was going on in my body was hurting me physically. Everything that was going on between the three of us was wounding me mentally.
