Amina Attar

Amina Attar

What if…?

―The Human Touch; we need that touch from the ones we love almost as much as we need air to breath‖. Have you ever wondered how a simple human touch can affect you!, maybe if I told you to imagine that you are to be deprived from a tender hold, a simple touch on your skin or even a kiss for the rest of your life; maybe then and only then you would give your mind a moment to reflect upon the significance of the human touch. Those who are deprived from this touch exist among us, surrounded by white or blues walls, encaged in prison-like hospitals, covering the lower half or their faces with masks anytime they get a temporary amnesty to have a glance on the outside world. Their sole companions are those dressed in white and others in blue or light green. I hope you have given it a thought to know who I am talking about before I compose the words to tell you exactly who they are. They are those suffering from contagious diseases, those having Cirrhosis, Tuberculosis and other types of similar sickness with which they are forced to live till death do them apart. The quote with which I initiated my story belongs to me: Stella Grant, the protagonist of ―Five Feet apart‖. I am here living, or shall I say surviving in my blue cell surrounded with a dozen type of drugs and medical masks. I always try to order colorful masks or ones with funny drawings to add some color and life to my lifeless zombie face. Since I was 13 I was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis 1 and since then I took the hospital as my eternal home. As a patient of this ugly disease I am forced to stay six feet apart from people and especially CF patients; otherwise there will be a risk of cross-infection, a risk which comes with the high cost: saying farewell goodbye to life. My friend Poe and I are hosting this disturbing guest, He is living in the room facing mine, and we developed our six feet friendship for three years now. We are just kids under the age of 18 trying to survive not only the disease, but also to survive something worse: the deprivation from a mother‘s hug or a father‘s hold for the rest of our whole life. I ask myself what if; WHAT IF one day I grow up to fall in love, shall I be doomed to be quarantined away from the ones I love my whole life?! Can anyone of us imagine the amount of pain people like us should stand because we are unable to get closer to our loved ones? and if we are lucky enough to be, we must adhere to the torture of being prohibited from having them nearer than six feet, from stealing a touch from them in the time when stealing a kiss becomes a forbidden dream.

1 A genetic disorder that affects mostly the lungs

William, the new guy; he is cute in a way, but he is careless and unbearable, always breaking the medical orders given by his doctors. It has been three months since he has been visiting this hospital; they finally found a room for him in this miserable white building. I watched him from far, he and Poe have become friends now. He keeps looking at me with his black wide eyes and his black medical mask covering the half of his face; Pfff that‘s annoying, yet I have the feeling that I like it. Do I like him, No I shouldn‘t; I know the rules. I think I am his friend now too. It has been six months now, William always knocks at my door and runs. As I said before he is unbearable. We talk through video calls, and when we meet we keep this damned six feet distance, but our eyes meet to tell a beautiful feeling but a sad reality. This ―What if‖ question comes to my mind again. What If I am in love with this guy, should it be sentenced since its birth to be forbidden. I keep reminding myself: ―Stella, Love is something extravagant for you; how can you love someone when even stealing a touch from them is a luxury!‖

Poe keeps on saying ―How long will I live my life afraid of what-ifs?‖I can‘t get his words out of my mind especially that he is gone now. He has spent his whole adolescence following the rules just to kiss life goodbye so quickly. I don‘t want to die like this, not before I have his touch; my love‘s touch. It is time to finally forget about this ―What If‖ and break some rules. Today I transformed the distance between me and William to five feet instead of six; I stole a foot in order to steal a touch. This distance now makes me able to touch his hand when both

of us stretch our hands to the maximum. After two months, I am dripping my tears wiping them from on the floor; my action of breaking the rules came with a high cost. What if you were me; would you have done what I did? What if you fall one day for someone with this sort of diseases; are you going to be ready to risk everything, to risk a human life for a human touch?