I can't believe you're not here anymore. I keep waiting for you to come knocking at night, so I can ever so kindly let you win at cards, or we can just talk for a while. I miss sitting next to you in the mess tent, or just hearing your voice in the OR. I miss borrowing your hair curlers, yours were so much better than mine, I should have just stolen them, haha.
I miss you; I miss you so much. Having you here was wonderful, having someone of my own. You felt like a link to another life, one I had almost forgotten how much I miss.
I hope you are doing well, getting settled in. I'm with you every step of the way, tiny cheerleader, remember? You take care, Whitfield, that's an order. The most important one. Love you.
Margaret carefully closed the door behind her and walked as quietly as her boots would allow over to the bed. Helen looked small, her back so thin where she laid, facing the wall. Her hair was matted in the dim light. She was so very still, and a chill ran through Margaret when she couldn't even tell if Helen was breathing. She stepped closer, without bothering to be particularly quiet anymore, and leaned over Helen. Yes, she was breathing, of course she was. Margaret exhaled and relaxed, grabbed the blanket around Helen's waist and pulled it up over her shoulder, reached over to gently tuck it in around her.
"Hey there, Houlihan, are you trying to feel me up?"
Helen's voice was raspy from sleep, and it made Margaret smile, she could feel herself relax even more. The familiarity of it felt like a hug, soft and safe.
"Yes, yes I was. And now that you're awake, I might as well really go for it," she said and climbed into the narrow bed, squeezing herself in behind Helen. She draped an arm over her and kissed the top of her head.
"How are you doing?"
"Terrific. I'm freezing, but also sweating. I can't stop shaking and I'm still afraid to open my eyes, but other than that, I'm great."
"You're gonna be fine," Margaret said, hugging Helen closer.
"You're not lying to me, Houlihan, are you?"
"When have I ever lied?"
"How about the time we were late for Mr. Garrison's lecture because we came directly from that housewarming party? When you pulled me into the bathroom and splashed both of us with water and told him we were late because our room had been flooded, and that we had spent the morning trying to save all of our precious family heirlooms we kept there for some reason. I think you may have cried and everything."
Margaret chuckled. She had been quite inventive back in nursing school, hadn't she?
"You're right," she said, "but let me rephrase that question. When have I ever lied to you?"
"How about all the times you ate my Heath bars and blamed mice?"
"I was saving you from cavities, but okay, let me rephrase that question too. When have I ever lied to you about anything important?"
"Never."
Helen shifted, turned around, and faced Margaret, then slowly opened her eyes.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi. I only have a minute, my shift's about to start. I didn't mean to wake you."
"Well, I didn't mean to fall apart, so we're even. I'm sorry." She grabbed Margaret's hand and squeezed it. Helen's skin felt clammy.
"I know. You don't have to apologize anymore."
"But I need to, I'm so sorry for messing up. I'm so sorry you had to lie for my sake. I didn't know… No, I did know. I didn't want you to know. I'm so proud of you, for what you're doing here. I wanted you to be proud of me too. And I'm just… weak and pitiful. I'm so embarrassed."
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"No. You're my best friend." Margaret kissed Helen's forehead. It felt clammy too. "And my best friend is strong, and clever, and fearless. She has always stood by my side, even when I didn't deserve it, and she has made me laugh more than anyone. Like the night of Marshmallow the Hamster, I laughed so hard I thought I was going to die. For real, I hadn't laughed like that in ages"
Helen smiled and sniffled.
"He was a very determined little fugitive, wasn't he?"
"He was, but you were even more determined, constructing that ring net-thing out of that old bra."
"You were the one almost breaking your neck balancing on the counter."
"But see, I was just the brawns, you were the brains."
Helen's smile widened, and there was a small glitter in her eyes, shining through the tears. It made Margaret smile too. That night had truly been something, the two of them trying to catch the tiny, gray hamster as he moved like a whirlwind all over their dorm, always escaping their hands. The two of them had been brand new roommates then, hamster-sitting while the owner was out of town.
No pets allowed in the dorm, of course, but neither of them had been able to resist the small, fluffy creature with his alert, peppercorn eyes.
Nothing brings you together as adorable, furry fugitives, as it turned out.
"We figured it out together," Margaret continued. "And by the power of Marshmallow the Hamster – fugitive extraordinaire – we will figure this out too. Together. Even though you're leaving, I will call and write until you beg for mercy. You will get help, and I will cheer you on every step of the way. It will be like having a tiny cheerleader on your shoulder all the time."
"Thank you, tiny cheerleader. And thank you Marshmallow."
Helen moved a little closer and leaned her forehead against Margaret's, they rested in silence for a while. There were footsteps outside, and the sound of tires against gravel. Helen's breath, still a bit elevated, was almost hypnotic and Margaret felt herself relax more and more, like she was floating. She closed her eyes, and if she would allow herself to let go, she would be asleep in seconds, Helen's warmth and the familiar sounds of the camp were like a lullaby.
A little movie started to play in her head, a reel of memories. Fourth of July in Texas, Margaret with a death grip on Helen's arm when the fireworks started. Meeting Helen's eyes over a crowded room during yet another party, giving the signal of 'something big just happened, and I need to tell you all about it later', and then whispered conversations in the small hours of night in their dorm room with the paper-thin walls. All the borrowed clothes, the familiar scent of Helen's perfume everywhere, sometimes it had been hard to tell where Helen ended, and Margaret began. It still was.
Margaret sighed and had to force herself back to the narrow cot of the present.
"I should get going," she mumbled, still not moving. "My shift starts."
"Who's on tonight?"
"Pierce."
"Ah." Helen chuckled a little. "That man would have a heart attack if he saw us right now."
Margaret grinned and opened her eyes.
"Oh my god, it would make his whole year, he would never stop talking about it."
"Interesting character, that gentleman caller of yours."
Margaret drew back and glared at Helen.
"He is not my…"
"Not you gentleman caller, not your anything, I know, I know," Helen interrupted. "Just a friend you like to get naked and do the devil's tango with sometimes."
Margaret scoffed.
"Did I tell you he invited me for a date in the supply closet when I first got here?" Helen said.
"Yes, you did. It's like a rite of passage for every nurse who sets foot here."
"I know, but it was mostly just a routine for him, I think. If I had said yes, chances were, he would have come down with a headache or something."
"Oh, come on, you're gorgeous, why wouldn't he…"
"Because," Helen interrupted again, "I am just some nurse. It might have been fun for an hour or two, but there would have been no… challenge, you know? Not like it is with you."
"Are you saying I'm a challenge?"
"Yes! Oh my god, Margaret, I love you, but you are such a challenge! Worth it, but an extreme challenge, yes."
"Rude!"
Margaret pulled her hand away and rolled onto he back. Helen propped herself up on her elbow, leaned her head in her hand, and looked down at her.
"And he likes it," she whispered in a low, sultry voice. "He can't figure you out, and that excites him. You're not just any nurse; you're an enigma."
Margaret scoffed again and shook her head.
"You don't know what you're talking about. Not too long ago he made a complete fool of himself trying to impress this pretty correspondent that came by, and not long before you got here, he tried to seduce his way into the nurse's pants, any nurse's pants, with a fancy bottle of wine."
"I only tell it the way I see it. Like last week, in post-op, when you dealt with that horrible marine that kept calling every nurse a whore and made Ellen cry. I was watching you and I was watching Pierce watching you and let me tell you – he had the biggest grin on his face. It was like all his birthdays and Christmases had come at once."
"That was not very professional of me."
"What? All you did was sit down, prepare a shot, explain how an upset nurse is likely to make mistakes, and how much vitamin bottles look like the ones that can kill a grown man in a second. All true. And let me tell you, your gentleman caller was into it."
"He's not…"
"I know! But he was. He looked like a man in loooove, admiring his giiirlfrieeend," Helen singsonged.
"Stop it!" Margaret said, covering Helen's mouth with her hand. "You're the challenging one!"
"You're the one in denial," Helen said with a laugh, shaking Margaret's hand off.
"You're the one who sees things that aren't there. Sorry!"
Margaret covered her own mouth with her hand.
"I'm so sorry, I meant with Pierce, not…"
"Ouch, Houlihan, too soon." Helen smiled down at her. "I know what you meant. And I won't say anything else."
"No, you won't, because I really have to go."
"Well, maybe you're gonna be late because your tent was flooded."
Margaret laughed.
"Oh yes, the way I was scurrying around trying to save all those precious family heirlooms."
She reached up and tucked Helen's hair behind her ear.
"You should get some more sleep. I'll come back after my shift, okay? I'll help you pack."
Helen smiled.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm beat. "
Margaret got off the bed and pulled the blanket over Helen, tucking her in gently.
"Love you, Whitfield."
"Love you, Houlihan."
Helen closed her eyes and sighed.
Margaret stood still for a moment and watched her. Helen looked so small again, frail, almost like a child. Her eyelashes so dark against her cheeks, a sheer film of sweat glistening on her forehead.
This time tomorrow, Helen would be gone. On her way back across the world, on her way to fight her own fight. A battle she was sure to win because Helen Whitfield was a fighter. A winner.
A best friend.
Margaret felt her throat close up. Even with all the practice she'd had in life, saying goodbye, just letting go, still hurt. It hurt like hell.