The mood ring was long gone. Tracing my steps back to my house and rummaging through every nook for it proved futile. I gave up looking for it, knowing that there’s no point in dwelling about something that’ll never be found again. Since when have I started getting attached to material things anyway?
Today, my boss gave a bonus out of the blue saying it was her way of thanking us for our hard work. I used the money to buy a small figurine of a mermaid with cat ears, weird like the subject of Sophie’s photographs. I thought she could put it in the aquarium along with the fishes, but she placed it on her bedside table instead.
It was a lazy Saturday as Sophie and I hung out in her sofa, watching WALL-E. Her legs were stretched over mine, looking comfortable as ever. There was no noticeable difference in her appearance, still her skin was pale and her cheeks were a bit sunken, and her lovely green eyes still sparkled. But as march came, her energy is beginning to drain. She couldn’t go out anymore, couldn’t even stay awake for 12 hours.
“Sabby.”
I diverted my gaze from the television I wasn’t actively watching. “Yes?”
Her lips moved into a slow grin, I have learned that this was a sign that she’s about to tease. “Sabby, baby.”
“No.”
Sophie’s laughter overpowered the movie for a moment, oddly making me want to smile. “So grumpy.”
Glancing back to the screen, I remembered how short her remaining time here on earth is already. One month? One week? Could be any day from now for all I know. There’s only two weeks left before the one year contract ends.
“Have you chosen a picture for your burial?” On one of our many conversations, Sophie mentioned not wanting to have a two-day funeral service, choosing to only have a burial instead.
“No…I assumed Finn would prepare it for me.”
“Really? Wouldn’t you want to be in control of your burial? What if he choose an unflattering photo? But then again, you wouldn’t know since you’re already dead.”
Blinking her wide eyes, Sophie glanced back and forth from the television and me, eventually sliding off her legs from mine to turn down the volume of the television. “You know what? You’re right. If I’m going down, I’m going down with a bang.”
Snatching one of the many cameras lying around the house (I recognized that it was the one she lent me that one time), Sophie browsed through the gallery, stopping at a photo I took of her grinning with leaves on top of her hair. It was the morning after camping and I had placed small fallen leaves on top of her head, counting how many I can put without her noticing. It took four. “While we’re at it, I want a casket decorated tiny diamonds. Not the real ones of course, just the fake ones, just as long as they’re sparkling.”
“I love sparkles.”
“I know.” With a grin, she took out a pad of paper and a pen, listing everything she wants for her burial. By the time the movie had finished, the list was also completed. Sophie called Finn over, telling him that it was an emergency. It was a surprise to the both of us when Finn came banging on the door in 10 minutes, sweating madly with his eyes looking very alert.
When his eyes landed on both me and her sister, he sighed and wiped his sweat off his forehead, then proceeded to lecture Sophie for worrying him. He even went as far as to turn to me, accusing me of being an accomplice.
Finn read the paper, his eyebrows furrowing. “A bubble machine?”
“‘I’m dying, Finn.”
He sighed, tucking the paper in the pocket of his slacks. “Fine.”
“Okay, now out.”
With Finn gone, the movie marathon continued. Tangled was next on Sophie’s recommendations, another animation movie I have not seen.
Sophie scooted closer to me, laying her head on my shoulder. Moments of silence passed before she sighed. “I want to get better so I can be with you longer.” The proximity made her whisper much louder in my ears. She turned her face, burying it on my shoulder. I felt my clothes dampen slowly, followed by some sniffles. “This is so unfair. Why does it have to be me? Why me?”
“Why not you?” It could very well have been me. And if it did, there wouldn’t be any reason. It just is. Not everything happens for a reason. That’s just a silly statement to give you hope if you’re struggling. Something happens, and then we give it some convenient meaning.
The longest I have slept in a day was 12 hours, and even with that amount of sleep, my eyes still felt heavy, tempting me to take another hour. Google says the number of hours isn’t the basis of tiredness, it’s the quality of sleep.
Sophie beats my record everyday. At first it was just 12 hours, now it’s 15. Last week, when her relatives visited her with flowers and fruits, she pretended to fall asleep so they wouldn’t stay long.
“Is she dead?” One of her aunts, Miranda, gasped when Sophie suddenly closed her eyes and pretended to sleep in the middle of a conversation. I wouldn’t have known it was fake if I hadn’t seen her do it when she was tired of hearing Finn rant about his stubborn patients.
“She’s tired,” I said, then ushered them out. They were to talkative and I wasn’t interested in hearing how Gerald’s wife is cheating with a 20 year-old farm boy.
“Give me your hand.” Sophie’s voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable.
Placing down the book that kept me entertained and shielded from Sophie’s personal nurse’s small talks whenever she checks on Sophie, I handed my right hand on Sophie’s palm. With her right hand, she slipped a ring on my ring finger. It looked exactly like the one she bought for me the first time.
I felt warm despite the cold hands that held mine.
“It’s not the same. I’ve asked Finn to look for it in every nook of the house but it wasn’t here.”
“I don’t mind. Thank you.”
The mood ring shows yellow, but I knew for sure that I wasn’t nervous. I was calm, peaceful even, as if I’m alone with no one to bother me, exactly what I think it would be like once I’m living in a cabin by the forest, like freedom.
We fell in a comfortable silence as I admired how the diamonds on the ring sparkled when a ray of sunlight hits it.
“Sabby.”
“Hm?” I looked up, seeing Sophie staring at her hands.
When she met my eyes, there were tears forming as she whispered, “I don’t wanna die.”
I held her fists that were clenched. “You said you made peace with death already. That’s why you didn’t want to get treated.”
“I was wrong. I thought I did not have anything to live for.”
“And now you do?”
“Mm.” Sophie nodded, biting her trembling lip.
“Good for you.”
“That I’m dying?”
“That you have something to live for.”
Sophie scoffed, turning away and taking her hand from me. She wiped the tears from her cheeks but they still kept on falling. “Ironic.”
That night when Sophie woke up from her three hour nap, she couldn’t recognize her room, the time, and me.Â
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