I close my eyes and raise my head to the heavens. Isn’t it strange how you never realize what you have or what you’ve done wrong until it’s too late? I get up and walk to the window, still clutching the letter in my hand. The view, in contrast to my emotions, is bright and beautiful.
My gaze rests on the few sheets of paper in my head. It’s hard to believe it; it’s hard to believe I didn’t see it coming. I turn from the window and settle back into my chair. I unfold the letter and begin to read it again.
Dear Lauren,
There are so many things on my mind that I don’t know how or where to begin. Conditions would dictate that this became a soppy, no-matter-what-happens letter but then again, I dislike following clichés. So maybe it would be best if I simply spoke my mind and pour my heart out onto these pages.
I pray that you don’t find these letter offensive for I don’t mean it to be. It’s just that these things have long been bottled up in my heart and no matter how I try to reduce the pressure, it continues to rise. It’s not anger I feel, but frustration. I guess everything is just – exploding out.
You never seem to understand why I’m pissed off and even when I am you just brush me aside like a small kid that ‘sedang merajuk’. You never really see how much I actually do and help. Like the time before the annual Sports House meeting. You were “in a rush” so you asked me to help bring up the books you had just bought, to class after recess. I went upstairs thinking, “if she’s in a rush, wouldn’t it be better if I bring up her bag too? Then she wouldn’t have to stop in class on the way to the lab”. So I took your bag up to the Physics laboratory. When you appeared, you scolded me. You said we were like idiots to bring up our bags when so few others did the same. I kept quiet. In the end, we were rushing out of the lab to go to the meeting. I commented that it was a good thing we didn’t have to go back down to class for anything. You didn’t remark. It’s ok. I forgave you. Unfortunately, I never could forget it.
You used to treat me like I’m stupid. Whenever I tried to help you with a question you were struggling with, you always needed to confirm with someone else first. Funnily, you never needed a second opinion if anyone else helped you. One day I got so fed up, I couldn’t help to share my frustration with two of our friends. Around a week later, you seemed to have suddenly realized that I have a brain! Maybe the two I had told had warned you of my frustration. Maybe God answered one of my prayers. I don’t know.
I don’t know why you call them your best friends. Although, you do have endless things to talk to them about to the point of totally ignoring me when they’re around. Yet oddly, when you need help or assistance of any kind, it’s me who steps up to the battling plate. Once, I suggested that you ask them to help you, not because I was unwilling to but simply because in this case, many hands make light work. You refused. You wouldn’t even tell the one closest to you. Weird, but I’m used to you being that way.
Let’s not forget that your best friends seem to dislike me. I don’t know why. I’m sure you do and I have the sinking feeling you hardly defend me against them. It’s ok. I guess I’m used to that too. How about the time when Colin asked me who my best friend was? He asked if it was you. “No”, you replied with such force that I was quite taken aback and embarrassed. That doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve forgiven that too, although in your eyes you might think in all these situations you are in the right. That too doesn’t matter.
If this is a fight, I’ll let you win every round but if you look at the big picture, who really wins the war? I’d be the first to admit that I’m not perfect. I always mess up and ruin things. I say and do things I shouldn’t. But you aren’t perfect either. You get angry easily at things you feel may cause you embarrassment. You’re a perfectionist in the strangest way and an irritating pessimist. In short, everything I’m not. Sometimes I think, if I were like you then none of this would ever happen. But if I were you then I wouldn’t be me. That’s who I want to be: myself, even if I’m not perfect but hey, no one is.
How did we even become friends? Do we have anything at all in common? Understand that these questions are not meant negatively. I was thinking about his for so long then I finally figured it out; you’re teaching me to climb the tallest tree and I’m your safety net.
You’re an example to me in many ways. You look down on yourself so often I learned never to do the same for myself. You’re focused and determined so I know it’s possible to be disciplined. You expect a lot from yourself so I learned to do the same to myself. You never cheat on your exams; you have a conscience bigger than everyone in our class put together and so I learned not to take the things I do or say too lightly.
I’m your safety net. I’ll be there for you when you have dark rings under your eyes and the signs that you’ve been crying are written all over your face. I’ll be there for you to do the smallest things like buying exercise books or ice lemon tea for you and the making two trips because they don’t have what you want. I’ll be there when the most vicious of all rumors fly around about you. I will mourn with you when you are in trouble and I will rejoice for you when you are too busy rejoicing with others to even see me. Just know that I don’t mean to sound bitter or angry but this is the truth through my eyes.
We don’t know what will happen in the future. Maybe I’ll die tomorrow or maybe I’ll die next year. I don’t like to think far ahead. Tomorrow is far enough, isn’t it? So no matter what happens, just remember to look up and never look back. Through thick and thin, I will always love you as my friend.
Smile always because that is when you look the most beautiful. God bless.
Making a difference,
Amanda.
There is a knock on the door and I jerk my head up. It’s our friend, Jake. I can tell he has been crying.
“Hi. Has he been here long?” He looked at Amanda’s brother who is lying fast asleep in an armchair on the corner of the hospital’s room.
“Longer than I have anyway.”
“Why so bitter?” he settles into the chair on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t take his gaze off me.
I look away and settle my eyes on Amanda lying on the bed between us. “How long have you known?” I asked Jake, avoiding his question.
“Not so long ago,” he answered after a moment’s hesitation. “About two months after she was diagnosed.”
“I asked how long, not since when,” I retorted with a sharp edge.
“Almost three months,” he answered finally. “She’s been ill for almost half a year.”
“Three months?” I repeated with disbelieve. “I only found out yesterday and that was after I read this letter where she told me how much she hates me!”
“She wanted to tell you,” he replied quietly. “And she never hated you. Ever.”
“Really?” I said with as much sarcasm as I could pack into two syllabus. “What happened? She didn’t have time to tell me she was slowly dying? If she doesn’t hate me then explain this letter!” I was burning with anger.
“She wanted to tell you,” he repeated, “It was you who wouldn’t listen. You close your eyes to anything unpleasant. She tried. Then she realized you didn’t want to know so she made us all promise not to tell. She still wanted to tell you herself.”
His words, although said gently, struck me like a hammer. A faint memory played. There was once when she had said she had something to tell me and from the way she blabbered on, I could tell it wasn’t something good as I had said I didn’t want to know.
“She could never hate you. She cares about you so much. That letter – she’s not trying to criticize you or get an apology. She just kept it to herself for too long. She loves you even more than she does, did, or ever will love me.”
I recognized the pain and heartache in his voice immediately. We all know Jake loves her but she would never let anything happen between them.
“She often said to me,” I began slowly, “that the worst part about being in love was that she loves you more than you will ever realize.”
I offer him a small smile; my peace offering. He looked at her and returned my smile. “She’ll get better.” I said, trying my best to be optimistic.
Jake nodded his head. “Of course. It’s just like her too.”
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