CONVERSATION NO. 2

I’VE HEARD that doing a menial task frees your mind and allows it to more effectively ideas. This was certainly proven today, as I spent my three hour shift at work folding clothes, and writing almost an entire song in my head. Singing under your breath is a great way to freak customers out, especially when you’re making facial expressions and changing the pitch of your voice to suit the person talking. 

I became deeply involved in the emotion behind the song. Although (fortunately), I have never had a direct experience with cancer, I've heard enough stories, read enough books and talked to enough people to get a general idea of the heart wrenching feelings it creates. At one point I actually started getting teary and was forced to sniff away the emotion when I realised people actually wanted to ask me things.

Here is the song so far, the conversation is between a male nurse and his terminal patient's best friend. The nurse starts. 

I don’t know if I’m ready. There’s so many things I haven’t said, there’s too many things we haven’t done. She’s sleeping now, so I’ll wait. You know, we were gonna start a blog, we were gonna be famous. We were saving up for Africa, because she wanted to help the children. Also, I think mainly because she wanted to ride an elephant, and she loves giraffes. And if we ever married, we’d be each others maid of honor. And I was planning a magician for her birthday, cos magic always made her laugh. 

Sounds like you’re a great friend.

Yeah, but listen to me now, how selfish do I sound? Talking about all the things I won’t get to do with her, when it’s not about me, it’s about her life cut short, her lost dreams, her family and the hole in the world that she’ll leave when she’s gone. Look at her lying there, she seems so frail. 

It’s all the chemo, she’s lot a lot of weight.

You should have seen her in high school (something something)

I hate when people say, oh what a tragedy, she’s such a beautiful and intelligent girl. What does that have to do with dying? We’re not gonna miss her cos she’s beautiful, we’re not gonna miss her cos she was smart. We’re gonna miss her because she was kind, and there, and her and she held our hearts. 

Where are her parents now?

They’re just downstairs, having their thousandth coffee today. They haven’t slept in weeks. They’re taking a break from staring and feeling useless. Are you sure there's nothing you can do?

I’m sorry, you know I’m just the nurse. Her doctor told just to monitor her heart rate.

[Beeping]

Something’s wrong, you have to leave.

What-what’s happening?

I’ve called the doctor, someone get her parents, you have to leave, family only. 

But I didn’t get to say goodbye!

I’m sorry, but you have to go!

[Beeeeeeep]

The girl's friend dies in the end (or it's assumed that she dies). I don't really know why I chose this upsetting conclusion but it just seemed to feel right, to flow from the rest of the piece like a slowly meandering river inevitably reaching the treacherous rapids and waterfalls. 

Happy endings aren't abundant in real life, so I suppose they shouldn't be constant in writing intended to reflect reality.