I was headed to see Ma in the hospital. It was my turn that week. My turn to change the water in the vase of roses. My turn to open the blinds and sit by her side. My turn to comb her hair and tell her about how everything was so fucked up because she was gone. Ma had been in a coma for five months. And none of us knew if she’d ever return to us again.
I was headed to the hospital when I ran into Sophie. She was still pretty, her eyes sharper than usual, sparkling, glittering in the sun. She had a headband on her head, a bag on her shoulders, holding a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I hadn’t seen her in two years and she was still the same girl I’d fallen in love with.
“Sophie!” I yelled because I’d thought I’d never see her again when we broke up.
“Hello there Sebastian,” she said with her penetrating eyes that always killed me.
Her smile was cold. Her hello was feigned. It was as if I was talking to a dead soul. This wasn’t the Sophie I fell in love with. This wasn’t the Sophie who I kissed and caressed. This was not the Sophie I loved.
“I see that you’re a smoker now. I thought you hated cigars,” I said.
She looked at her cigarette, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “Well, life’s a bitch Sebastian. Besides, who says it’s bad for you?”
I didn’t get it. Who was this girl? What had happened in the last two years since our break up? I had figured she’d be happier. It was her after all who said we should end it. She was the one who was tired of our relationship that seemed unexciting and pointless.
“Are you happy?” I asked.
“Define happiness for me. If it’s this world, this life, this…” she didn’t go on. She just stared off to a distance and it reminded me of the days we were together.
We really were miserable when we were together. Sophie was a writer. She had her own rules, her own world of fantasies. She ended it, she said, because I didn’t get her. I didn’t get what went inside her head or why she’d be really happy one day, and then crying the next. I didn’t get her thoughts. I didn’t get her because she wouldn’t let me. She said only one person got her and it wasn’t me and it would never be me. And I fought for her, I did. I fought and I tried to break in, to break those walls she’d built around herself, but I wasn’t strong enough. So she ended it because she was sure I’d never get her.
“My mother has been in a coma for the past five months. My brothers and I take turns visiting her. We bring her fresh flowers every week and change their water. We comb her hair and put lotion on her hands. We talk to her because the doctors say it’s good for us and for her. I am turning 21 tomorrow and I don’t know how you define happiness. But I know that she’s gonna wake up soon and we’ll be a family again and I’ll finish college and get some degree and move on. It’s this life. It’s the way it is you know. But I am happy because I still got a long way ahead and Ma will be waiting to see me go on.”
Sophie said nothing. She looked sad, like real sadness, almost as if she’d break and cry. But she stood silent and then took my hand. She walked me to the hospital that day and helped me change the water. She held my mother’s hands and placed them in mine. Then, she left. And we never ran into each other again.