not everything gets to be alright

Dear Reader,

Photo by Jen Theodore on Unsplash

"Do you think this henna is worth the money?" Sarah asked no one in particular.

I'm here, watching Sarah. I have been watching her since she was a baby. I consider Sarah a close friend, but I don't think the feeling is mutual.

You see, she's preparing for her wedding, and to be honest, I never believed she would ever want to settle down with someone. I never even took her seriously until recently when she told me randomly, "I think I am..."

"That henna looks ugly, girl."

"No! I don't believe that."

Well, we do not always agree, so it's fine. We were still talking about the henna when she walked in.

"Let's go and check on your father in the hospital."

I watched them leave. At first, I thought it was better to stay back, but I knew Sarah would need me, so I tagged along.

We got there. The smell of this place—drugs, blood, disinfectant, people dying—I almost forgot how to breathe.

But I followed them to the ward. I saw her father eating, not by himself, but he was eating.

For one second, I thought about life. Could this sight be proof of living? That you've been in this world long enough for your body to start showing evidence of time? I don't want to say his body was failing him because I do not want to scare anyone.

So I watched from where I stood as Sarah held him while he ate. Sarah.

***

"We need to move him. His condition is critical."

They were all standing outside the clinic, the older women trying to hide their tears as they waited for a miracle.

I was looking for Sarah. Where could she be? And then, I saw her there, sitting alone with her head lowered.

One thing about the bond I shared with Sarah is that I could sense her emotions. I saw her sadness in her eyes and her silence. She sighed heavily and stared into space.

"Have you called your husband-to-be?" I wanted to ask. But when she saw me, her eyes became heavy with tears.

See, I wanted to comfort her, to say everything was fine even when it didn't seem like it. But I couldn't move my feet—I just stared at her.

I was stunned by what was going through her mind. I wanted to comfort her, to say everything was alright even when it didn't seem like it. But I... I—the words failed me. For the first time in years.

I used to be Sarah's confidant. I charged her up, pumped her with every good word. And if I won’t be exaggerating, I am the reason she always laid her fears aside and did things with a clear and happy mind. But today, my words failed.

***

"Clear the way! Emergency! Emergency!"

The family stopped as they wheeled their father into the emergency ward. Calls were made, they started pacing. Everyone was talking at once.

Sarah sat alone in silence, staring at everyone and hoping someone could have answers. Is he going to make it?

She hadn't said a word since last night. And if there's something I have learned in this world, it's that sometimes, in silence, your thoughts are so loud that your brain suffers, and you yearn for something to make them go quiet.

Sarah was silent, but her thoughts were causing chaos in her mind.

I reached out to her. "This is not the end."

"Hmm." She nodded.

“Everything is going to be alright” I tried

“Not everything gets to be alright” she muttered.

And she sat there when a car drove in. Nurses rushed out to attend to them, but all of a sudden, they slowed down. They refused to take the patient.

What's wrong?

She had passed away.

***

"Incoming bride o!"

She's with her friends now. Everyone is happy to see her, and now Sarah is smiling. Nothing could give away the fact that, deep down, she's anxious, tired, and just wants everything to be over.

She made jokes, laugh at some. I saw her here but I know she is somewhere else.

***

"I have never seen Sarah cry before."

Everything went south after that call. How dare Sarah dream of being happy?

She said she needed a minute to herself and would like to be alone. I watched everyone leave, but I stayed back.

I thought her heart was going to stop beating. I watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest as the tears kept coming. I wanted her to look at me, but she wouldn't raise her head. She's locking me out. She won't let me in—again.

The last time this happened, she didn't leave the house for days and was terribly sick.

"Oh, come on, Sarah," I whispered. "You have a big day tomorrow. Don’t let this take you away from me."

But she didn’t respond.

And for the first time, I wondered if she ever would.