Some Quiet Place

pillow she’s leaning against. She’s not wearing a wig today—wisps of hair stick up in forlorn tufts—and someone must have made her remove the lip ring. But in typical Maggie fashion, she’s rebelled by wearing a necklace with a skull pendant and painting her fingernails black. I approach once more, sitting down in the uncomfortable pink chair by her bedside. Maggie watches me, smiling sleepily.
    “I was dreaming about the ocean,” she tells me. “Did you know I’ve never been to the ocean?”
    “Yes, you’ve told me.”
    Maggie tosses her head restlessly, a thin hand going up to touch the remaining strands of her once-shining red hair. “Just once, I’d like to put my feet in,” she says. “See those colorful fish I’ve heard about, take pictures of the coral reefs.”
    “I know,” I reply softly. “And you will one day.”
    “No, I won’t. And we both know it.” Maggie faces me, forcing herself to smile again. It looks unnatural, as if that smile wants to shrivel and crawl away to a dark corner to weep. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that an Emotion now accompanies us—Sorrow, who huddles near Maggie with a glistening tear on his cheek. His dark hair hides the rest of his face. I act as if he isn’t there and lean toward Maggie. Even though she contradicts me, I know she wants more lies. So I give them to her.
    “We’ll put on skimpy bathing suits and run down the beach,” I tell her, touching her hand. She clings to my fingers and my hold tightens automatically. “Boys will look at you and want you. Girls will be so jealous of you. We’ll have our cameras, and we’ll take thousands of pictures. We’ll buy corn dogs from the beach vendors, we’ll wear those ridiculous big hats you see in the magazines”—Maggie snorts here—“and maybe we’ll even swim with some dolphins. What the hell.”
    My friend sighs, her smile bittersweet now, but real. “I don’t know if it’s these meds they have me on, but you look so strange in the sunlight. Beautiful, really. As if you’re absorbing all the light and it’s shining from you instead of the sky.”
    “Could be the meds, or maybe it’s just you,” I tease.
    Suddenly Maggie doesn’t want any more jokes. Her mood swings in another direction—the doctors once said her medications would make this happen—and she makes a sound of impatience. “Forget all of this. Fuck it. I’m tired of talking about me. I’m sick of listening to the doctors and the nurses and my parents. Distract me, Liz. Give me all the dirty gossip from school. Or better yet, let’s blow this Popsicle stand! You drove here—let’s go find a party!” Her eyes glitter, and Sorrow fades, swiftly replaced by Desperation. So many Emotions. It’s almost dizzying.
    It’s my turn to force a smile, meant to comfort. “Why don’t we just stick to the gossip?” I suggest. Maggie deflates and sinks back against the pillows. Desperation abandons her, already looking for his next victim. “Let’s see … ” I think. “The Dorseth brothers were arrested again. For stealing from Hal’s hardware store, I think. Oh, and I heard Joshua Hayes turned down Sophia Richardson when she asked him to go to the homecoming dance with her.”
    “What?” Maggie squeals, struggling to sit up. I put a restraining hand on her shoulder and she leans back again, but her eyes are still wide with glee. “Where did you hear this? Tell me everything .”
    For an hour I regale her with stories. Maggie eats it all up, intent, and for a bit I do manage to make her forget. But at some point she begins to lose focus, and more Emotions blur into existence, all touching the sick girl. Envy, Loneliness, Longing. Dark skin, skin pale as my bedroom walls, frizzy hair, sleek hair, dismissal and interest. Maggie half-listens to me now, nodding to keep me talking, but I’d guess she’s thinking of all she’s lost, all she’ll miss, everything she wants and will never have. I focus on this so I don’t give away the presence of all the Emotions.
    Finally I glance at the clock on the wall: 5:46. I’ll only be able to stay for a few more minutes. My gaze flicks back to Maggie and traces the outlines of her hollow cheeks, the sprinkling of freckles across her delicate nose. She’s so tiny, a fragile bird that will forever be in the nest and never know what it’s like to spread its wings and feel the wind and the radiance.
    I’ve gone quiet. Maggie turns her face to the window.