Baking With Boys |✔

26. Mint Marshmallows

Smiling faces sometimes pretend to be your friend,

Smiling faces show no traces of the evil that lurks within,

Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes,

They don't tell the truth...

"Can you please turn off the radio?"

The nurse shut down the radio as I asked, the verse dying down like a broken record. I gave a sigh realizing that the lyrics really hit home this time. Watching the nurse as she removed the day old flowers from the vase at the bedside table, another regretful sigh escaped my lips. She exchanged them with a set of fresh bundle of pansies. My eyes stayed glued to her as she watered them, the sweet smell slowly filling the room and covering it in a thick aromatic blanket.

"Do you want me to send in anyone?" Her voice had a soothing effect as she asked me the question in her thick local accent.

"No, it's fine. I'll stay here," I replied, and gave her a small smile. She returned it, hesitating before going out of the room. Stopping mid-way, she turned, and looked around the room before setting those wise brown eyes back on me.

"It's such a pity she got injured. I heard she was trying to save you?"

"Yeah. She pulled me away before the thing fell on me. But her hand..."

"Don't worry.  It's a minor injury. The cast will come out in about two weeks. Make sure you take proper care of her till then." She smiled, and I nodded, glad for her brief but honest company.

I turned away with a sigh, as the door slid closed behind, leaving me and Bea alone in the room. Squeezing Bea's left hand, and looking at her sleeping form, I felt ashamed for all the times I had doubted her or her motives. Agreed she has done many a thing that had made me suspicious, but I knew I could have been better.

Hell, I should have been better.

Bea stirred that very moment, and I squeezed her hand again to let her know that I was there. She opened her eyes, blinked a few times, and looked around the hospital room in a dazed manner. Same room but such different perspectives. Her neck strained up as she attempted to look at me, giving me a weak smile when our eyes met. Her eyes wandered, finally resting on her right hand covered in plaster. I watched her hand too, slung from her shoulder at an awkward angle.

Our eyes met again, and I teared up, filled with immense guilt. I opened my mouth to apologize, but Bea beat me to it.

"Do not say another word! How many times am I going to say that's it's alright?" Her voice had the morning husk, and she cleared her throat, reaching for the glass of water with her left hand. I beat her to it this time and handed it to her.

"So what's up?" Bea asked me as I put down the glass on the adjacent table. Her usual cheerfulness was back in her voice, but as much as she tried to be normal, my depressed voice could be heard from a mile away.

"Nothing much. The producers sent you those pansies." I pointed to the flower pot and Bea wiggled her nose.

"You don't like them?" I asked, standing up to remove them if she didn't.

"No, I like them. Their smell is strong though," she said, and I nodded, sitting back down. I watched the empty white wall, awkward pause filling up the room in no time. My feet tapped the floor continuously as I thought of something to say.

Should I apologis-- nah. She hated me doing that. Ask her about her night? What would she say, I had fun with painkillers?