“You can’t stay long.”

“I know.” Looking at the sign placed over the door, he sighs and glances away. To meet the eyes of his family once more. He searches for words to say, but finds none that fit the moment. In the end, he nods and steps towards the door. They slide open silently, letting him in.

He draws a deep breath once inside, the only other occupant of the room the one he came to visit. The air is tasteless, sterile with just the hint of a sickly sweet smell that he has come to associate with hospitals. He wonders once again what it is. Chlorine? Urine? Or just death?

He is too self-aware to not understand what he is doing. Avoiding the issue. Delaying. Running away. But then, there is no escape. And so he steps further into the Intensive Care Unit, pausing next to the only other occupant.

He sees the tubes that run helter-skelter across the body, into the body. He sees the wires and the lines and the mask that read and feed the body for before him. He hears the regular, slow beat of the machines next to him and smells the hint of an unwashed body beneath it all. And if he shivers, maybe it’s because always leave the air-conditioning on too high here.

He searches for the words, for something to say and then falls silent. In the end, he reaches out to touch the man lying before him. In this too he fails. He stands there in silence, staring at the body before him, uncomprehending.

In the end, he feels her presence there more than sees. He never turns around, yet when he speaks, it’s softly and undoubtedly directed to her. “Is it… is it his time?”

Her voice is soft, compassionate. A voice that you could sit and listen to for hours. That draws you in and makes you trust the speaker, even if you knew better. It was the voice of his dreams, and he wondered why he should think that. “Not yet. You know, he can hear you.”

“I know.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, hoping to shut the rest away. But the world does not work like that, not now or ever. And when he opens them again, she is gone. Somehow, that does not surprise him.

In the end, it’s the nurse that comes for him, to ask him to leave. As he turns to go, he reaches out for a brief moment, to touch the hand before him, “Kong kong, I’m going now.”

He wants to say “take care”. He wants to say “get better” or even “it’s okay, you can die now”. He wants to say you “don’t have to fight so hard, if its too much” or maybe “I don’t want you to go”. He has a million things to say, and in the end, not a word. None of it matters anyway, because it’s all out of his hands.

***

Somehow he’s not surprised to find her there. The wake had wound down. The few relatives and fewer friends gone with a piece of red string and a pair of sweets. Only a few are left, his uncles and aunts. In the dark of a night, it’s not hard to find a place to be alone. Not that he’s ever truly not alone.

She finds him staring into space, the sole streetlight casting its glow on the empty street before him. Behind, the glow from the two red lanterns cast their scarlet light on the white wall before him. She sits down without a word, the silence between them comfortable and well worn.

“I thought you would be gone by now,” he whispers the words silently, this conversation for them only. And though he knows the others are too far to hear, it feels right to whisper. In this time, in this place, somehow the loud, brash sounds of words said in jest or humour seem wrong.

“I’m never really gone,” she replies to him, just as softly as he did to her.

At first glance, she seems unremarkable. Pretty certainly, with a bobbed haircut and gently turned up nose. A simple black dress holds within a slim, if not overly gifted body. If one were to be particularly cattish, it could even be described as being boyish. Yet it is her eyes that are most striking. For they speak of those most difficult emotions - compassion without pity, understanding without scorn, acceptance without judgement.

All in all, she looks exactly like he knew she would.

“Yeah,” he breathes the words out with a weary sigh. He searches for something to say to someone who’s heard it all before anyway. In the end, he finds himself speaking to fill a suddenly uncomfortable silence, “I don’t know how to feel. All I know is that maybe I shouldn’t feel this way.”

Answering the unasked question, he continues in that same soft, gentle tone, “Glad. Relieved. Impatient.” He can not help it as his lips quirk. A mocking half-smile that laughs at himself and this world and everything in it, “I should be sad should I not. Except… the lanterns say I should be happy. And maybe I should. The last days…” months, weeks, years his mind whispers, “they weren’t easy.”

“For him,” a streak of blighted honesty makes him add, “for us.”

He turns to look upon her fully now, not from the corner of his eyes, not in quick stolen glances. He stares on her, and the words seemed to be pulled from him, torn from his chest, “Will it always be like this? Or is this the best it can be? Pain and happiness mixed so you can’t tell one from the other? What is it all for?”

She returns his stare for stare. Black eyes meeting brown, offering no answers, just comfort. And if perhaps she knows the answers, perhaps wisdom holds her back. In time, he casts his gaze down, unable to meet hers any longer. His hands clench and slowly relax. After all, she is not at fault. But he can stand not to look at her once more and so shuts his eyes.

In time, he draws a deep breath, taking what strength he can from her presence and casting what anger, sorrow, hate or regret he has left. In time, he opens his eyes to the world.

“I thought I heard somebody else up here,” coming over, his aunt peers about in the darkness, favouring her left foot as always.

He too looks around before offering an apologetic smile, “Yeah. An old friend. She’s gone now.”

“At this time? You should have introduced her,” brushing aside the words, she stops nearby searching his face “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” stronger, more convinced he adds, “Yeah.”

His aunt pauses to search his face once more before nodding and glancing back the way she came. “Okay. Your brother is back with supper.”

“Alright. I’ll be along.”

A gentle smile crosses her face before she turns, making her way back slowly.

He looks around once more, not truly expecting to see her and thus not surprised when he doesn’t. He sighs slightly, nodding to himself and then whispers, ever so softly. She will hear him. He hopes. “Thank you. I’ll see you again, I guess.”

As he moves towards to the light and the voices of his family, he lets out a low chuckle and adds, “Not too soon I hope.”