She hasn't noticed you watching her all day. The way you steal glances through the office window, your glances sharper than usual, paying more attention. You make excuses to walk past more often, watching as her hand shakes slightly while she works. You wait for any excuse, not wanting to interfere, not wanting to seem too involved. Not wanting to seem too much like you care. Because caring too much is weak and you aren't weak. Not for her, not for anybody.
She's crying, frustrated, annoyed. You stand up, rushing out. You grab her hand, a secret, reassuring squeeze. You lead her through to the office and usher her to a seat, door closed, blinds down. She sit opposite her behind your desk, keeping it formal and safe. You offer tissues and stumble over words. Your roles are reversed and you're uncomfortable, unsure. You reach into your desk drawer silently and pull out a half empty bottle of whiskey. It sits on the desk awkwardly between you. You think about the woman before you and realise what a silly gesture you have made. She is not you. So you slip it silently back into the drawer and shut it, blinking quickly as you offer words which sound empty. Because you're full of fear and concern but mostly confusion. And you're not very good with emotions.
Cancer. It swirls around the room. Tumor. Hospitals. It's too much to take. Too frightening, too real. You shake your head a fraction, tears already threatening to fall but her face is deathly still, emotionless. You freeze for a minute, unable to speak, words escape you. "Hayley.." It's the first word you've spoken in minutes, since she broke the news. That is as far as you go. No more words tumble from your lips. She is the one who is facing the battle, yet it is you that falls apart. You stumble across to her and your arms find their way to her neck, pulling her close so your body slump against hers. You don't even realise and yet you are sobbing, crying in desperation as she soothingly comforts you, rubbing your back. You whisper your fears and realise just how empty the world would seem without your unusual friendship to hold you together.
Doctors, hospitals, scans, tests. You attend them all with her, being the friend she would have been to you. You try your best to hold yourself together, to be the strong, fearless one she would expect you to be. But you find it hard, harder than expected. In fact you think you've taken the news harder than almost anyone. You sit with her now, at the hospital. Her husband on one side, you on the other. It is her who finds your hand and squeezes softly, as though it is her offering you comfort and love. You don't speak at all, your throat dry, words once again lost in a jumble of messy thoughts. But your head snaps up at the Doctors last words. Months left. Weeks maybe. Silence engulfs the room but it is you, once again, that breaks down. Your sobs loud, longing, painful. Her arms surround you, loving you, still staying silent. Her husband looks on, silent. Lost.
You hoped the weeks would drag but instead the seem to move in double speed. Taking all the sweet moments you had hoped to treasure quicker than you had wished for. You don't work. You couldn't work. You couldn't seem to face the one place that had bought you together, linked you, bonded you in so many unbreakable ways. She is weak, tired, losing her battle but she keeps you together. Holds you up once again. You ache, you hurt, you long for reprieve. But again, as so many times before, it does not come. Few people left in your life you couldn't bare to lose. Four, maybe five you love with every inch of your being. And that number is once again dwindling.
You are in her house, in her bedroom, by her bed while she sleeps. You think it's strange that you haven't been here before but you ignore your thoughts and hold her hand, your thumb rubbing comfortingly. You have found a little inner strength for a brief little while and take on the role of the strong one for her. She has stopped her treatment despite your pitiful begging and now she has come home to say goodbye in peace. You had selfishly wished for her to carry on, despite the inevitable outcome you would have had a little longer to share with her and a little hope to cling to.
She lays awake now, a few days later and you have barely left her side. She speaks occasionally, offering you words of wisdom but mostly love. You still hold her hand, fragile and weak like you have never witnessed before. You have been speaking about silly things, discussing random thoughts that pass your minds until you catch her eyes for a second and for the countless time, tears stream down your cheeks. Your words come out muddled but you know you have to say them, you have to share, "Hayley.. I am so sorry, darlin'. I am so sorry for any pain I've ever caused either of ya." You nod slightly, stopping her from stopping you. "You've been a whole mixture of things to me, Hayles. A friend, a mother, even. Even when I certainly didn't deserve it." You look to the ceiling, blinking more tears away hopelessly, shaking her head a fraction, "Thank you." You finish simply, finally looking back to her. She motions silently for you to climb next to her, checking with her partner for reassurance first, the only other one who has not left her side. You climb beside her and rest against her chest. She is playing mum again, the best she can.
You wake the next morning and the first eyes you meet are those of her husbands. He is silent and you frown, the room feels different, empty. You sit up from her chest and realise her warmth is missing. You shake your head desperately and climb up, mumbling her name over and over but she doesn't answer. She cannot reassure you and make it better any longer as she has gone, peacefully slipping away. You're crying endlessly again and feel the most desolate sense of loss as you stand, still fully clothed. You feel lost, as though your sense of direction and reassurance has been take too. You realise he is standing just beside you, still hauntingly silent as your sobs fill the room. Slowly, nervously, your head rests against his shoulder as you bond over the only thing you had in common. His hand almost awkwardly rubs your back but you still take a little comfort, your tears just delicately dampening his shoulder.
Her funeral is beautiful, just as she would have loved. It's simple and so full of love from all that knew her. You are honored with the part you take on in her goodbye. Helping to plan, sitting beside her beloved husband in the pews, offering a little love and comfort. You say a brief few words at the front but you keep them short. You are not silly and you know people doubt you, you know they could simply not understand the bond you had made with the beautiful woman you had now just lost.
The church yard is empty as you slowly allow the last lingering people to loiter away and carefully you make your way back to her resting place. The flowers already smother every inch of free grass and you smile lightly, almost proudly as you sink down slowly beside them. You don't try to speak, you don't even cry any longer. You have lost enough people to know that that would be hopeless. Instead you simply sit, hoping to feel closer to her for a little longer. You stay for hours, silent and alone but unable to drag yourself away. As you finally stand, you look down at the place she is buried for a little longer, knowing you would not ever face returning again. You kiss two of your fingers and place them to the smiling picture of her that sits on front of you and then you whisper and slowly walk away. "Nunight, Hayles."