"You're a coward."
I flinched at the harshness of her voice. I kept my eyes focused on the red, Formica table in front of me. My heart was beating rapidly as I counted the beats. One…two…
"What exactly are you afraid of anyway?" She yelled at me. I stayed quiet. Twelve…thirteen…
"I asked you a question!" She barked. Twenty …twenty-one…twenty-two, twen—
"ANSWER ME!"
I looked up at her. Her blue eyes were flashing dangerously and her brown hair was thrown up in a bun. She looked furious. The only proof that something had happened was the mascara streaks down her cheeks.
"I don't know," I whispered at her.
She gaped at me. She groaned in aggravation and tossed herself down in the chair beside me.
"Well I suggest you figure it out soon," She snapped to me.
I looked away from her. Maybe I was a coward, so what? I'm not strong like her, though. I can't walk in a room and see my best friend like that. I can't. I don't want the last image of her in my head to be her trapped…covered in all those wires and in pain. I can't handle that.
"She keeps asking for you." She whispered.
I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to hear this.
"You're the first person she asks for in the morning and the last at night. She needs you, Oliver, so I suggest you find the courage to go see her."
With that, Miley stood up and left the waiting room.
That went on for months. I'd come everyday, but every time I got there and looked at her hospital room door I froze up. Miley came everyday. She brought her magazines, gossip, and friendship. I wanted to be like that. To be strong enough to hold not only myself up but her also. But I was a coward. And that's all I'd ever be.
The seventh month she stopped asking for me. Miley stopped talking to me. They all thought I was horrible. They thought I was cruel. They thought I was getting back at the sick girl for something she'd done.
I couldn't find the words to tell them all I was just a wimp.
She got worse and worse as the months turned into a year. Miley came more and more, and I stopped even driving past the hospital. I ignored all phone calls, emails, letters…anything.
I lived my life in fear and denial.
She stayed strong for two years.
Then, one day, I got a phone call.
I was sitting in my apartment, sipping hot chocolate. I remember thinking that nothing good ever came on TV as I flipped through the channels. When the phone rang, I didn't know what I was about to hear. I had no idea.
"Hello?" I asked. I could hear heavy sobbing on the other line, and I immediately felt fear wash through me.
"Miley? Are you okay?" I asked in worry.
"I just thought you should know that Lilly's dying. She has at best twelve more hours. She's asking for you, Oliver. She's always asking for you."
My heart stopped beating. Fear ran through me. I must have stayed silent for too long, because the line went dead. I sat there looking at the phone in my hand for six hours. Six hours I sat there.
Miley tried calling three more times. I didn't answer. She left message after message, begging me to come.
Two hours later, she left another.
"Oliver!" She shrieked into the phone, "please come out here! Don't do this! I would come drag your ass out here myself, but I'm not going to leave Lilly to die alone. Please, please, please come." Suddenly, I heard a small voice in the background "Is that Oliver? Is he coming?"
My heart broke.
Her voice was so hopeful that it made me cry. I was suddenly disgusted with myself. How could I do this to my best friend? How could I ever?
I jumped in my car and drove to the hospital, the whole time speeding. I can't remember ever feeling sadder.
I ran up the stairs and down the hallway. I stopped when I saw the people sobbing outside her room.
Her family was sobbing. I couldn't move.
Miley slowly came out of the room, and she saw me standing at the end of the hallway.
Anger flashed over her face. She walked up to me, and slapped me hard across the face. My skin stung painfully.
"You bastard! How could you do that to her?! How?! She waited two years for you Oliver! She was your best friend! You couldn't even take a few hours off your life to come tell her goodbye?! She died thinking you hated her, you jerk!" Miley's strong façade crumbled as tears began to fall down her face. She punched me in the arm, "I hate you! I hate you so much! I can't stand you! I hate you!"
She stopped mid-rant and just fell completely to pieces. I watched as she leaned against the wall for supported and sobbed.
I was going to comfort her, but my feet were moving toward the door. It was like I was watching myself and had no control over my actions.
My hand pushed the cool, white door open.
A white bed laid in the middle of the room. Lilly was lying motionless on the bed. And I hated myself then. I set down beside her and took her hand. It was cold.
"I'm sorry, Lilly," I whispered to her, "I'm so sorry,"
Tears leaked out of my eyes as I cried. I was too late; I would never talk to her again. I'd never see her smile, hear her laugh, or hear her voice. If I could have been stronger and not such a coward, this wouldn't have happened. Because my fear, because I let it rule my life, I never got to say goodbye.
I laid beside her and cried until they came to take her body away. When they did, I realized I'd always been waiting.
Waiting for when I'd wake up and this wouldn't be happening. Waiting for this to stop. Waiting for her to be better.
And now, I'd spend the rest of my life waiting.
Waiting for the sight of her lying there to leave my mind. Waiting for her to forgive me. Waiting to forgive myself. Waiting to stop hearing her small voice on my answering machine over and over again in my head.
But most of all, waiting to stop being a coward. I'd always be waiting for that. Always.