A Spider in the Beach Afar, Audrey Koh

A Spider in the Beach Afar

Someone’s crying, and it’s raining… I wake up from a very refreshing sleep, leaving me energized, relaxed, and ready for the day, but confused, because I still can’t figure out that darn beach dream, the one I’ve dreamed every day ever since I’ve been diagnosed with heart cancer. I try to hold onto that feeling of relaxation, but it slips away, leaving me feeling lonely and miserable. I smell it. I taste it. I hear the crabs picking their way through, clicking and clacking their claws, across the beach sand. But what makes me cry with sadness is that I will never get to be there… A tear rolls down my cheek, but I brush it away. I take a quick look around the room, a very plain prison with a vase of roses on my left side. My covers and pillows are covered with dancing lavenders and daffodils (they might be violets and daisies, mind you, I’m not a florist), and there’s a drawer for my clothes on my right side. A trash can is on the left side of my bed. A mirror about my height is attached to the wall on my right side, also. The wooden desk is for food and gifts. A control panel is attached above the wooden desk. I fear that control panel the most because it contains my worst nightmare: the blue button saying “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY”. I do my homework on the bed. Lacey… my innocent-looking, adorable, short best friend who isn’t actually that innocent… How will she handle my death? I think dejectedly. And Rachel… my morbid, sarcastic, intelligent, and sassy best friend… How will she continue on with life without me there? I sound so selfish, but I wonder what’s going on between themBam! My best friend Lacey kicks the door open and sails in as she yells in a not-sofeminine way, “HOI-YAYAYAYA!!!” I roll my eyes, but I force a smile and ask, “Hey, Lacey. What’s up?” Lacey sweeps a chocolate muffin from her bag of goodies and hands a bran muffin to me. I take it from her and bite it. It tastes of home. “Uh, nu-in muh. Buh ah mih you. Eryone mih you. Ay shay hor you oo geh be-er,” Lacey said between mouthfuls of muffin. “Lacey dearie, how about you eat everything that’s in your mouth first and then talk to me,” I say to her, brushing a crumb off of her mouth. Lacey swallows, and then she repeats what she said earlier, “Nothing much. But I miss you, and everyone misses you. They say for you to get better.” “Aw,” I reply. “Ironic that it’s never going to happen.” “Camilla, the pessimist,” Lacey sighs. I roll my eyes at her. “Are things going great with Rachel?” I ask. I try to press this sensitive topic whenever I see her, because I know that she doesn’t like to talk about it, but we are best friends after all, so I want to fix her and Rachel’s relationship. Lacey tries to sidestep this, so she asks me, “Camilla, why are you so happy? Why aren’t you depressed? People with cancer I know are so sad.” Wow. What a stereotypical

question, associating us cancer victims with depression and morbidity. But I force a smile and answer, “If I was depressed, I wouldn’t have the energy to even be here right now.” Lacey mutters, “But you’re here, and you’re restrained.” I pretend that I didn’t hear. “Are things going great with Rachel?” I repeat my question. Lacey stuffs another muffin into her mouth and murmurs that she can’t talk currently. “Fine. But listen to me while you eat,” I say sharply. “I had the same dream. Yes, the beach dream. You, Rachel, and I were there, walking along the beach. I could smell it, taste it, hear the seagulls screech, feel the sand under my bare toes, feel the wind blowing gently through my hair. All three of us were talking, laughing, and having a good time with each other.” My voice softens. “My brain took a picture of that moment. I can remember it so well that it’s weird. I began to think, maybe, Rachel isn’t that of a horrible person, although she can creep me out and become hot-tempered so I’m scared of her always, never knowing what mood she’s in. But while I was sleeping under medication, I thought – in a disorganized way, my thoughts were jumbled up – that you and I shouldn’t look at other people’s faults. We should avoid their bad qualities and follow their good qualities. That’s how we’ll learn from and be able to trust each other.” Lacey almost chokes on her muffin, and runs to the trash can. She spits her chewed-up muffin out distastefully and throws the muffin wrappers away. I can see Lacey’s face darkening. She brushes the crumbs off of her hands, and avoids my gaze. “She’s horrible. She tries to spread rumors about me. She once said that I’m a cheater and liar!” Lacey whirls around to face me, and I immediately notice her hurt, angry face. What’s going on with Lacey? I think. Rachel doesn’t do these things. “But Lacey, Rachel doesn’t do these things,” I reply soothingly. Lacey bites her lip in anger and spits, “How do you know? You’re such a pasty, little sick hospital girl that you don’t know anything! You know nothing!” She storms to the table, picks up the bag, and throws the remaining muffins at my face. The muffins roll down my face and leave a sticky trace. I bring a finger to my face and find it streaked with melted chocolate. I never knew that there was such a scary side of Lacey, I think. “Well, Lacey, maybe I don’t know the school news, but I do know that you’ve been acting spitefully towards Rachel and I. I want to know if I can do anything.” Lacey laughs scornfully. “I know you’re trying to be caring, like those therapists and counselors say. But it’s not going to work with me. I don’t like Rachel. It’s final.” She paces around in the room while she talks. “Ever since you introduced Rachel to me, I knew that we wouldn’t get along quite well. But with your charming and cheerful personality, you eventually got Rachel and I to be- reluctant- friends.” Her monologue turns into a deep, buzzing drone in my ears. She walks over to the control panel, and her finger touches the blue button lightly. “What’s that blue button for?” she asks curiously, her voice filled with dark mischief. The

drone stops, and I come back to reality. What she said dawns upon me. No, not the blue button, please not the blue button- I scream desperately, “Lacey, don’t you dare touch it! Lacey, no!” Lacey laughs. “Why, there’s nothing wrong with pressing a stupid button-“ she presses it. The hospital lights dim to darkness. The surgical tubes glow with red-hot intensity, ready to deliver a surge of pain. My wide-open mouth freezes in horror, and then lightning, through the surgical tubes, strikes me. I can see the bolt of electricity flash in front of my eyes, and the shock is so great I tumble out of my bed and onto the hard, cold, unwelcoming marble floor. I feel as if I’m fried, burned. Despite the pain, I manage a, “Lacey, avoid the bad and follow the good.” My body slumps onto the ground, and the last thing I see before I pass out is Lacey’s partly apologetic, partly frightened, partly smug, and partly triumphant facial expression. Lacey, I still have that photograph. Stop the rain. You are the only one who can do it. Stop the rain. Stop it. I can hear your voice, shaking with remorse and shock. I can smell your lavender presence. Feel the hot, pitter-patter of rain on my cheek. I can sense you. Feel you there. I just can’t see you. They say seeing is believing. But my life is a lie. How can I believe anything you say? I can see your lips speak the words, sharp and crisp like a cracker. I can hear your words, trembling. So you say that she lied about you. Take a look at yourself. Two faced, big, fat liar. You say I am ignorant. A liar. Look at yourself. Stop being the spider you are. Look in the mirror of truth. The truth hurts, burns like fire. If your life is a lie, fix it. Don’t stand there. Drowning. Burning. In lies.

Audrey Koh