Strangers

A female voice took him by surprise. He turned, but saw no one. Nothing but shadows seemed to accompany him in the apartment complex. He heard the voice again, and it drew him upward. There he saw a girl, her arms draped over the railing of the balcony and her head resting on them. 

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm just fine, thanks. And yourself?"

"Just fine."

An unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, he watched her walk down the steps toward him. as she was almost to him, she turned abruptly and seated herself on a nearby bench.

"Would you sit with me?" she asked.

Having no reason not to, he sat next to her on the bench. It was damp from the sprinklers, but she didn't seem to mind. He rested his arms on hi knees as he lit his cigarette. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lean back and close her eyes. 

"Will you tell me about yourself?" she asked.

"Why should I?" he responded, not with suspicion, but with curiosity. 

"You don't have to, of course. But I think you'd rather like to."

"I'd rather like to?"

"Yes," she said. "I think I'd quite like it too."

When she was turned to him he could see her round eyes and was reassured that she wasn't on drugs as he'd previously suspected. There was innocence about her. Not a naive sort, but almost a wise kind of innocence. If that even exists.

"Could you spare me a cigarette before you begin?" she asked.

"I'm surprised."

"That I smoke? Only when I drink. If I'm to destroy my body, I prefer I do it all at once."

He chuckled and she thanked him as he held out a lighter fit with a small flame.

"Go on," she said, once again leaning back and closing her eyes, this time exhaling smoke into the sky.

"I'm dying."

"What kind?"

He stared at her and was sure she'd misheard him. 

"I'm dying," he repeated.

"I did not misunderstand, but I believe you did."

"What different kind of dying are there?" he asked.

"Millions. Perhaps your sadness is dying. Perhaps your joy is dying. Perhaps your love is dying. Perhaps your memory is dying. Perhaps your soul is dying. They're all parts of you, and they can all die."

"My body is dying," he stated.

"How's everything else?"

"I believe they all may be dying too."

"Sorry to hear it," she said through the soft wave of gray coming through her lips.

"I have a tumor," he continued. 

"In your brain?"

"Yes."

"That's why everything else is dying too."

"Slowly."

"Are you married?" she asked.

Her attention seemed easily drifted. Maybe she was just uncomfortable talking about his ultimate demise. She didn't seem like it though. 

"I'm too young to be married," he replied.

"Maybe you're too old to be married."

He looked up like her. She seemed so enticed by the night, but maybe she was just listening or deep in thought. That must be it, because the sky was blank. The city lights made the stars hide and the blinking airplane you can usually spot seemed to be elsewhere. Come to think of it, he'd never seen the night sky so blank.

"Keep talking, please," she said.

"I'm, um, atheist," he said.

"No, no," she quickly cut him off. "I don't care about those things - physical things."

"Religion isn't physical."

"That's a common misconception.'

"I disagree."

"That's just fine," she replied, changing the topic once again. "Are you depressed?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you're dying."

"I'm not sure yet," he answered truthfully.

"Well it's best you decide that sooner rather than later. You don't have much time to stand around and think about it, do you?"

He stared at her.

"Have I been too blunt?" she lowered her gaze to meet his eyes. "Have I offended you?"

"Not at all," he answered.

"Oh, I'm glad," she said, returning her gaze to the empty page above them.

"I quite like you."

"I like you too," he said.

"Oh, I like to be liked. Everyone does. I think that's fair to say. Don't you?"

"Yes."

She smiled.

"Can I ask you a question too?"

"I think that's fair," she said.

"What do you see up there?"

"Nothing," she answered simply.

"Then why stare at it all this time?"

She lowered her head. Perhaps her neck was getting stiff for she stared directly ahead.

"You said you were atheist, so you believe a sort of darkness, a sort of nothingness awaits you?"

He nodded.

"Please don't think I'm getting religious on you. I lack religion - I don't believe in it. I believe in whatever I want and I feel no desire to categorize it  as something that's become so...violent. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Good. Anyways, being that is what you believe, why are you not depressed about your untimely nothingness?"

"I thought religion of that sort was physical and you didn't care about physical things?"

She smiled. A matter of fact, she seemed quite content with him calling her out.

"Humor my fickleness, would you?" she requested pleasantly.

He decided to think for a moment and she didn't seem to mind.

"I'm not depressed," he decided.

She didn't react. A few moments ago he would've though she hadn't heard him or didn't understand, but now he knew better. 

"I've never experience nothingness. It's impossible for me to have experienced nothingness."

"That's logical," she said.

"So how would I know it's something to dread? Perhaps I could do with some nothingness after a lifetime of somethingness."

"Why waste time on something we can't change and can't hope to understand?"

"Exactly," he said.

"I like your answer," she replied.

"When do I get mine?"

She smiled and pointed up to the sky.

"I said I saw nothing in the sky and I take it you agree."

It wasn't a question, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Look," she said. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I guess so," he answered, looking up as she'd instructed him. "Yes, it is."

"That's why," she answered.

~~

In the hospital, beneath those dreary lights and beside those green privacy curtains, a flat line rang out.

~~

"Thank you for talking with me," she said. "I'd better get back inside."

"I'd better too."

                                    

Reviews

[NCalebD]

I loved the dialogue between the characters. She is exactly the kind of person you expect to walk out of the darkness to talk to someone who is dying; she is the kind of person I think that many people would like to talk to, if we should ever find ourselves in such a situation. Loved your story!