Chapter one

It was pouring heavily that evening when I woke from my nearly five hour sleep. I made to jump out of bed like every normal person would, but I was reminded by my body once again, that I was not. I am a terminally ill patient who has been living or rather, dying with leukaemia for the past two years. I'd been holding on just fine until the past year when I had to, unlike before, be admitted to the hospital for days or weeks, and in worse case scenario, a month.

I slowly sat up in bed, hugging my knees momentarily unaware of the others in the room whose eyes were fixed on me. When I did realize, they all looked away and were acting all fidgety. I turned to Maureen, the girl whose bed was close to mine by the left.

"What's with the atmosphere?" I asked

She looked like she was about to breakdown any minute and she kept quiet for some time before she nodded her head towards the opposite side of the room. I followed her gaze. There were seven beds at the other side which were directly opposite ours. I took notice of all the faces of the other girls, one after the other. It was obvious that something had happened while I slept.

Cynthia's bed was the only unoccupied one but... it wasn't just unoccupied, it was totally cleared out. That was when it dawned on me.

"Oh, Cynthia," I said and placed my hand over my open mouth, as I struggled with the already clouding tears but I wouldn't let myself cry. I couldn't. Afterall, we already knew that we are all walking corpses about to be laid to rest and forgotten. Well, just to be fair, everyone in the world is a walking corpse but then, for we, the terminally ill, it's more...conspicuous? If that's the right word.

I made my way out of bed and quietly stepped out of the room. I walked to my favourite place in the hospital- The garden.

And that was where I met him.

He was a boy my age, with a clean low cut and thinly carved side jars. By merely looking at the side of his face, I could tell that he's handsome. He was sitting on a wheelchair under the garden shade. It was still drizzling then so, I made my way towards the shade.

His gaze lingered on when he noticed me hurrying over. I found it annoying but chose to keep my cool. I could still feel his strong gaze even without looking at him.

"Do I have something on my face?" I asked sarcastically. He was a bit startled to know I'd taken notice all these while but what does it matter? It served the purpose because he looked away immediately.

Now it was my turn to evaluate him. Just as I'd said, he truly was handsome but I noticed with a closer look that he was quiet diffident or so I thought. That was what I could make out of his fidgety moves, shaky eyes and clasped hands. The silence between us was so loud that I couldn't stand it anymore. So I reached out first (which was quite unlike me, by the way).

"The flowers," I said, pretending to be engrossed by the scenic view "they're pretty"

He didn't say jack. I turned to him and found him still playing with his fingers. I took a look at his form once again, then at his wheelchair.

"Accident?" I asked

This time, he looked at me only for a split second before turning away "No, I underwent surgery" he replied

"Are you sure you're allowed to move about just yet?" I asked, taking note that he was all alone.

He chuckled "Well, I'm not," he paused and gasped "but I'm not one to just follow orders,, you see?"

I scoffed at that "Silly" I said but I knew that he so much reminded me of my previous self. The self that was healthy enough to defile orders.

"There's something with the wind," he said "the way it rustles by, caressing the flowers and redirecting the rain"

I dimmed my eyes a little, trying to understand exactly what he meant by that. But the next second, I burst into laughter. I think that was the very first time I'd laughed for days and I'm still thankful to him even as I write this.

"Don't tell me you're a poet," I said teasingly

"Well, I won't" was his reply.

I arched my brows and faced him directly still waiting for him to say something.

"Because I'm not" he continued. There was a pause and then, we burst into laughter simultaneously as though on cue.

"Thank goodness!" I explained "you would have written very terrible poems"

He feigned annoyance "No, I won't" he said, folding his arms.

"You think"

"I think everyone is a poet," he stated "one just needs to find the right words to write, and an ink to pen them down" he expatiated.

"Well, I think, that was yet another lousy attempt at poetry"

He seemed to have mustered up a little courage as we talked, so he turned to me "So tell me, Jane doe," he said "do you write?"

"Nope," I said "I have better things to do"

"Would you mind telling me about them?" He asked but the silence that followed, was his answer. Not that I mind, but it just suddenly dawned on me that I had been speaking with a complete stranger for minutes. One of the events I can assure you, are unprecedented.

When I looked down at him, I saw that he was still waiting for an answer. So I pondered about it for a while. What better things did I have to do exactly? What came to mind that moment was 'getting well soon' if it's even possible but I just shrugged and said "Music"

I heard him make a little sound on his throat. I guessed my reply was far from his expectation "Interesting," he said "what kind?"

"Any kind that speaks to me"

He had a confused look on his face as he turned to me again "What does that even mean?"

"I listen to everything; Rnb, pop, afrobeat, classical, and what have you" I listed but he was far from satisfied with my answer.

"You do have a preference, I presume?"

"None," I said "I listen to all, depending on my mood"

"Oh, I get it now!" He exclaimed "you must be one of those that listen to blues at night while fantasizing of their crushes" he let out a small laughter.

I rolled my eyes "I agree that I love listening to blues right before going to bed but..." I stopped halfway and once again, wondered why this conversation was still holding and how long it would continue. I'd left the room hoping to be alone with my thoughts but here I am chatting away with some boy, whose name I am even yet to know.

"But?" He asked curiously, jerking me back to the moment.

"I don't listen to blues just to fantazise of anyone," I said "I just love it's calming effect. It puts me to sleep"

"I see" he said but he didn't 'see'. I could tell he was still skeptical about my claim but I said nothing to try and convince him. Of what use would it be?

"May I know your name?"

Seems as though he'd read my mind because I was just about to ask the same thing but having come from him first, I began to wonder if it was really necessary. I know I'm odd but that's how it has been ever since I was diagnosed. I'd never made a new friend since then and so I thought: if I've never made friends for two years, why should I start now?

I just took a deep breath and shut my eyes "You may not" I said.

"Are you kidding me?" Was his response, ensued by laughter. Perhaps he actually thought I was joking. I opened my eyes and peered at him. He shrugged "I guess I'll stick to Jane doe then," he grinned "I'm Tim by the way" he said, offering his hand. I shook it reluctantly but he didn't seem to mind.

"Back to our discussion, Jane doe" I heard him say, but I wasn't following the rest of his speech. I found it funny that he calls me Jane doe and my name, really is Jane (he doesn't know this though).

"Did you even hear my question?" He asked. I started back to the present.

"Sorry, " I said "what was it?"

"How do you enjoy classical music?" He repeated "I've seen people who really love it but I just can't fathom it. I mean, What's there to love?"

I laughed at that. It was more like, the umpteenth time I've heard such comment on the subject and I didn't blame him. In this time and age, people seem to relish other genre, leaving classical music to the orchestra members and the opera. But somehow, I find peace whenever I play it. I just didn't know how to make him understand the feeling.

"I'll recommend some of my faves to you" was all I could say

"No, thanks" he said "I'll pass"

"I insist"

"You can make me listen to it but you can't make me develop interest in it" he asserted. I felt my strength draining away from the not-so-long conversation and didn't want to argue further so I threw my hands up in surrender. Let's save the argument for another day, I thought, then I caught myself in mid-thought. Another day? Was I subconsciously wishing to see this Tim again? I scoffed at my thoughts.

The rain had stopped then and the perfect curvature of the rainbow cast over the evening sky.

"Such beauty" he said softly. I guess he'd followed my gaze. I concurred with a nod and we, so engrossed by the scenery, gazed at it for a long while without uttering a word.

At some point, I glanced at him. His cute, young face was lit up with a smile. A smile that added more brightness to the scenic view. I got this hunch that he'd become aware of my gaze and was about to return it, so I looked away immediately.

"Are you aware that the rainbow is just an illusion?" He asked turning to me, with that cute smile still playing on his lips.

"Huh?"

"The rainbow," he repeated, pointing towards it "it's an illusion cast on the sky due to the reflection of light"

"Really" I said.

He scoffed and silence reigned once again. I figured it was now time to part ways before he begins to grow on me.

"I'm about to go in now," I said reluctantly "Which hospital building do you stay?" I grabbed the arms of his wheelchair.

"Block B," he said "are we leaving already?"

"I stay in block A but I can't get myself to leave you out here all alone" there was a little pause as I stared at my drip stand. There was no how I could have moved him and it all at once. I sighed

"Could you like, help me move my drip stand slowly as we go?"

He gaped at me as though I had just said something ridiculous "isn't that reckless? What if I pull it..."

"That's why I said you should go slowly!" I retorted then gasped to calm myself. He shuddered and like a kid who'd just been scolded, grabbed my drip stand with his right hand without any word of defiance. I smiled and we set out in motion, though slowly.

Very slowly.

The garden wasn't so far from the second hospital block so it wasn't a tedious ride. He engaged me in a conversation as we went. When I wheeled him to the elevator, I made to leave immediately but he called out "You're still not going to tell me your name?"

I turned and smiled at him "Take a guess"

He shrugged and made a show of thinking for a split second "it doesn't matter. I've quite gotten used to calling you Jane doe"

"So you'd like to stick with that?" I asked.

He shook his head no.

"Well, my name is actually Jane" I finally said. He arched his brow in disbelief but I reassured him with a nod. He laughed out loud as the elevator doors began to close.

"So it IS Jane afterall" I heard him say before the door was completely shut.

I found myself still smiling sheepishly even after he left but it wasn't quite long that I regained composure and started to make my way out of the block. I had already entered block A when I started to feel dizzy. I halted and leaned on the wall for some time, then I took some steps forward but it wasn't so long till I felt my knees failing me and I collapsed close to the reception.