She was alive

A few months earlier …

“I'm afraid I have some bad news,” said the doctor several uncomfortably long seconds after I sat down.

No surprise there. I bit my trembling lips and strangled my wrist with the opposite hand. I couldn't let it out yet. I had to hold it in.

“We got the CT head and neck reports back. The mass we found turned out to be a primary glioblastoma, just as we clinically anticipated,” he said. “We also found some abnormalities that need further investigation but it looks like there might have been some spread to your throat-”

I burst out laughing, clutching the front of my neck. I couldn't stop even though it hurt but at least now I knew why. The doctor fell silent and watched me, his professional mask wavering as he glanced toward the door I had walked in through several minutes ago.

“Sorry about that,” I said as soon as I could speak again, wiping salty moisture from the corners of my eyes and trying my best to contain the bubbles of laughter that continued to rise from my chest. “Carry on.”

“I understand this must be a lot for you to take in right now,” he replied. “Especially after all the tests you've undergone these past few weeks.”

“Well.” My voice shook with the impatience of caged laughter. “At least we know they weren't a complete waste of time, right?”

“It's okay if you need a moment, Sheila.” Dr Kallik was as patient with my frivolity now as he had been with my frustration a month ago. “This certainly isn't good news but there's a chance we might be able to treat it palliatively if nothing else-”

Another bout of giggling blocked out the rest of his reassurance and I had to cover my eyes before the grey-tinged disappointment behind the rectangular frame of his glasses could tip me over the edge into uncontrollable hysterics. A sentiment so familiar I could have owned an adoption certificate with the word written across it.

In comparison, the diagnosis settled into my thoughts like a cat curling up on a cushion. The perfect bookend to a life that had begun just as inconveniently for all those involved in it. It made sense and, if there was anything that gave me pleasure in life these days, it was stuff making sense for once.

“We'll need to run a few more tests to make sure,” said the doctor once I had quietened down enough to hear him. “Even if we can't do anything about the brain tumour, we might be able to manage the throat metastases so you're comfortable at least.”

I waved a hand, dabbing tears away from the corners of my eyes. “No thanks.”

“Can I ask what you mean by that?” Dr Kallik adjusted his glasses with his left hand and freed a few errant strands of black hair from its frame.

“Treatment would only prolong things, wouldn't it?” I smiled.

“That would be one of the aims, yes,” he agreed. “It would also be a way to spare you from as much pa – discomfort as possible.”

“Yeah, I'm good.” I checked the floor and picked up my navy blue tote bag. “Is that all?”

“Where are you going?” His head jerked as if he had been about to stand up but stopped himself, his left hand tightening atop his right.

“Not where you think I'm going. Probably.” I stopped by the door and didn't quite catch his gaze over my shoulder. “Thanks for everything, doctor.”

“I'll have my secretary arrange a follow up next week.” He hesitated. “If that's okay, that is?”

“You've done more than enough for me but if it'll make you feel better, go ahead.” I shrugged and waved without looking back. “Bye.”

“See you again,” he called after me, his words strained before the closing door cut them off.

The Gandhi quote framed next to his office glared at me as I left:

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.

The hospital seemed brighter somehow, its floor tiles and painted walls glowing an almost sickly off white. The parents of the little girl, who had been there for a cast removal next to me in the waiting room, were by the reception, possibly to pick up a prescription. It seemed like the child's father had a problem with his wife paying for whatever it was. Was that out of a sense of responsibility or due to a presumed injury to his masculine pride? It was hard to tell without more context.

The children moved awkwardly on her newly freed leg, bumbling around the chairs in a little yellow summer dress and white sandals. I raised my hands to stop her from crashing into me and she smiled in that blithe way that only a child unaware of their own surroundings could. Black hair framed her brown eyes, which were wary but alight as they connected with mine. Her parents didn't notice the near collision so I blinked slowly at her and walked past them all.

The cancer diagnosis started to worm its way deeper into my brain as I left the hospital by its main entrance. The automatic doors slid open and a wave of cold air soothed my burning eyes. After breaking up with the man who had evidently been my first and last partner in life, cutting ties with my family, and having a pending performance review coming up at work, the idea of having cancer was just another nail in the coffin of a life that had been dead to me for years.

There were a line of black, white, and grey taxis that nearly blended in with the skyline. Some were waiting for specific people, others idling as they waited for new passengers to approach them. Pretty sure they weren't supposed to do that, but it was convenient for patients who needed a quick ride and inconvenient for those trying to confirm their intentions. Any other day, I would have made plans to go home at once and ensure I had enough recovery time for the following day.

Instead I stood outside the largest hospital in the county, distracted by several cherry blossom petals swirling past me. The tree they belonged to was huge but trimmed down to be more manageable. It didn't look like it belonged to the town I lived in which made it a very relatable plant indeed. I almost felt like giving it a hug and found myself heading towards the other side of the road without caring whether or not that was a good idea. The light had been green for a while now but I was sure I could make it across safely if I hurried.

A sudden gust of wind whipped my blonde ponytail across my face and I paused to push several strands out of my eyes. A child's laughter sounded close behind me and I saw the little girl with the yellow dress running out ahead of me as soon as my eyes opened again. Her mother yelled, the sound a lot further away than it should have been.

The lights turned red.

And the cars started rolling towards the child several steps in front of me. The one who had only just recovered from a leg injury it seemed. Who still had both of her parents present in her life. Who, despite their inadequate attentiveness, seemed to care for her wellbeing.

The cars were driving towards a child who would otherwise have an entire life to live without their interference.

I grabbed the girl by one of her thin arms and yanked her into the protective curve of my body but now we were both too far from the pavement. A scream to my right told me that her mother was close enough to catch her and I shoved the little one into her arms a second before the car hit me.

An all encompassing pain made me black out for a moment, radiating from my hip and across my lower back. The sky flickered between panels of darkness. The top of the cherry blossom tree was suddenly directly above me, its laden branches framed by several unfamiliar yet alarmed faces. The ground grew warm and moist beneath my waist and shoulder blades. Through the fading chorus of voices asking for my name and if I could hear them, the girl's sobbing touched me like a sun ray.

She was alive, if nothing else.

My fingertips brushed the rough base of the tree trunk and I would have smiled if my facial muscles still had the ability to cooperate with me. My life had ended with the achievement of two goals, one big, one small. A definitely more satisfying end than the cancer would have given me. The tree heated up beneath my hand as a white light drowned everything else in my narrow field of vision.

The last thing I heard was a voice that seemed both masculine and feminine. Both young and old. Its tone both inviting and harsh. Speaking the name of someone I had never met before.

“Shizuka …”