|Ten| A love song…For no one…

The next day was the first day back to Emma’s scheduled therapy session. She was nervous to go into that cramped, poorly decorated room; nervous about what the doctor would say, think and do. But more nervous about what she wouldn’t do.

What she wouldn’t do was spell it out for her. The doctor did not have the meaning of life in the cup of her hands; she didn’t have all the answers and she didn’t know exactly what Emma should do in order to achieve her goal: get emotionally well again.

Emma had expected instant results at her first session; she’d expected to walk in a total mess and then walk out in an hour completely free of the affecting burden. That, however, was not the case in any therapy session, and certainly not in Emma Burns’.

“Emma,” Dr. Johansen smiled warmly and motioned the younger woman inside with a wave of a petite hand. Emma did as she was told, quite timidly, but she managed to fall into the folds of the particularly large sofa before collapsing from the stress of it all. Emma felt safe surrounded by all those cushions and fabrics and when she leaned back and relaxed, she felt better all over.

Dr. Johansen pulled her swivel chair out from behind her desk and placed it directly in front of Emma. The doctor sat down, pad in hand, and crossed her legs, ready to begin. Emma took a deep, calming breath; a breath she’d seen her mother take years ago during yoga. At the thought of yoga, Emma felt a prang hit her stomach and she looked towards the door frantically: mapping out an escape route.

For a second, her mind went to Elijah. A picture of him flashed through her brain, one of him on a white horse coming to carry her away from this mess that had become her life. Fairy tales, however, do not exist and it does not do well for mental patients to stray from reality for too long. They tend to forget to live; basking in the warm glow of their happy dreams.

However, as Emma imagined Elijah on a white horse, she held back a giggle. She couldn’t picture him being a knight in shining armor, a savoir or a hero. What he actually was to her meant more than all that put together: he was a friend.

“Emma,” repeated Dr. Johansen nervously. Her pen was bobbing against the pad of paper, a nervous habit.

“Do doctors have nervous habits?” Emma wondered aloud, snapping back to earth.

Dr. Johansen peered at her curiously, “Emma? Are you alright?”

Emma struggled to sit up, “Yeah. I’m fine. Why?”

“Well,” began the doctor slowly, “I asked you several questions and you didn’t respond. I was beginning to think I’d lost you.”

The last two words echoed in her hallow mind. Lost you. Emma’s head snapped to the doorway and then back to the doctor. “Is Lily okay?”

The doctor followed her gaze, her eyebrows knitted in concern, “Yes. Emma, what is going on? Are you taking more medication than prescribed?” Dr. Johansen let the pen’s tip fall onto the pad and she began to write notes fiercely, with the lust of an author just stricken with a brilliant idea. In Emma’s head, the pen scraping was unbearable, like someone scratching their nails down a chalkboard.

“I’m fine. I’m not taking any more medication.” Emma’s voice was commanding and loud; so much in fact that the doctor looked up at her worriedly, her pen dropping from her fingertips. Emma bent forward to pick it up.

Cautiously, Dr. Johansen replied, “Alright. Well, shall we begin, then?”

Emma nodded, gulping; her throat was dry and scratchy and it felt like sandpaper was being shoved down there, not a pleasant feeling.

*

An hour later, Emma felt more refreshed than she had for a while. For some reason, this particular therapy session had gone really well; or maybe it was the Elijah on a white horse image that made her feel so wonderful inside. The mere thought him caused a smile to spread itself across her lips, and this scared her. Emma had lost control of her feelings; she’d put herself out there. Vulnerability, to Emma, was the worst thing in the world; a fate even worse than death.

She didn’t have time to think much about this, however, because Elijah was sitting comfortably on her window sill when she entered her room.

He smiled and stood up, “Hey there.”

“Ah…hi,” she said, closing the door behind her. “What are you doing?”

Elijah motioned around the room, his smile still bright and in place, “Visiting you, of course.”

Emma raised an accusing eyebrow, not believing him for a second, “And…?”

“Lily. She wants to see you.” Elijah’s smile faded, “She needs you, Emma. You’re the only person she wants near her right now.”

Emma nodded slowly and allowed Elijah to take her hand and lead her down the hall.

*

There was no way Emma could have known what sight would meet her eyes in that dreary hospital room, but she had expected a chipper, lively Lily…like all those times before; she hadn’t expected to see a lifeless, despondent former image of her best friend.

It was Lily, there were no doubts about that. It was the same brown hair, the same frail body along with perfectly manicured fingernails and bony fingers, but there were slight differences.

The bags under her eyes were different, she looked gaunter and sunken in; her skin was translucent. Her fingers, if possible, were bonier than before giving her the look of a skeleton: all bones, no skin. Lily’s hair, which had once been beautiful and well cared for, was matted to her skull and very oily.

And her eyes: Lily’s bright blue eyes were no longer full of life, quite the contrary, actually. She looked haunted…and dead. Lily’s soul was still clinging there to that body, just waiting to be set free. It seemed that it would only be a matter of time.

“I’ll leave you two alone, shall I?” Elijah asked quietly, his hand on the small of Emma’s back. She nodded without speaking and he left the room.

Silence is deafening, but the beep of the heart monitor is not; it’s sickening, especially when it’s so slow that you have to wait with baited breath for the next beep to come.

Emma’s bony hand went to her mouth, “Oh Lily,” she said through her palm, her voice muffled. Emma lowered her shaking body into the large chair beside Lily’s bed and she all she could not to cry. She set her head on the bed and closed her eyes.

It seemed like hours, but it was really only minutes before Emma felt a hand on the top of her head. She expected it to be Elijah, ready to lead her away from this devastation, but it wasn’t him. Lily smiled a little when Emma looked up. The parting of Lily’s lips revealed chapping beyond belief and Emma wanted very much to rush from the room and grab some chapstick.

Emma wiped her eyes, even though there was no need to, “How are you feeling?”

Lily’s mouth snapped shut and she shrugged, her eyes moving over Emma’s face like a painter’s would if he were trying to put a face to memory so he could paint it later by himself.

“Lily-“

Lily held up a silencing hand, “It’s okay, Emma. Don’t say anything. It’s alright.” Lily’s voice was scratchy and weak; Emma had to strain her ears in order to hear her. “Thanks for coming.”

Emma smiled slightly, “You’re welcome.”

“How are YOU feeling?” Lily asked, moving her head on the pillow so she could get a better look at her friend.

“I’m okay,” shrugged Emma. “Better than worse, I suppose.”

Lily nodded in understanding, “Elijah says you’ve been---having some trouble.”

“Yeah,” admitted Emma reluctantly, “but I’m okay. Or, rather, I will be.”

Lily smiled broadly, “Good. Emma?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I can feel it coming, you know? In the movies when the actresses are all melodramatic and over-acting…they always say they can feel death upon their doors or something. And I never believed them, not until now, because I can feel it, Emma. I know there isn’t much time left.” Lily coughed, “And it really hurts.”

“Hurts?” Asked Emma in confusion.

“Yeah, physically. I have awful cramps and stuff. It’s bad…and…” Lily coughed again. “I’m ready to go, Emma. I just wanted you to know that.”

A tear slid down Emma’s cheek but she quickly wiped it away, “I’m so sorry, Lily.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t give me cancer. Don’t feel responsible.”

Emma shook her head, more tears falling, “Okay.”

“Just, you know, look out for him.”

“Elijah?”

Lily smiled, “Yeah. He likes you a lot. He’ll need you…you’ll need him. Don’t push him away.”

Emma sat up, her hand on Lily’s, “I won’t. I promise.”

Emma watched as Lily's eyes slowly closed, sleep was taking over in a big way. She hoped Lily's dreams would be more serene than her own.

The next morning when Emma woke up, both her back and neck were stiff. She found out why when she straightened up. She’d spent the night in Lily’s room. Frantically, Emma searched the room for a sign of Lily or Elijah…but neither of them were there.