I walked along the hospital hallway until I came to a wooden door marked 123. I was looking for an empty room to sit and read, it wasn’t far from where Tommy’s mother was being held, so I walked in. I didn’t look at the two beds as I walked into the musty smelling room. I went to a rocking chair in the far corner of the room near the wide window overlooking the parking lot. I sat in it and began to read. I was really getting into The Waltz, when someone coughed in front of me. I jumped, my cane and all four books landed with a clatter on the floor. I hurried to gather them up and leave, but a boy about 17 stopped me.

“What are you scared for?” He asked. I was still gathering up my books and cane and managed to slow my heartbeat down some. I sat back down in the rocking chair and looked at the voice that spoke to me. He was tall, even sitting he was at least 7 inches taller than I was. His eyes were brown, and he was bald. He was extremely skinny, and his bottom lip stuck out a little. His skin was coal black with huge hands and unnaturally long arms. Without even bending over, he just reached down and handed me my cane. I was apprehensive about taking things from him because I am not sure if what he has is catching. He appeared to be staring at my chest so I removed one of the four books that rest there and show it to him. Without even looking at the title he said, “The Waltz. By D Parker. I like it. Lots of metaphors are portrayed within the story.” He continued. I felt like I had met my twin. I can’t help but like him instantly.

“There’s also lots of irony in the book.” I interjected. He nodded, as if we shared the same secret

“You a reader too?” he stared at me. “I thought I would never meet another reader like me.” I laughed.

“No one’s interested in books anymore you know? If you bring up personification around anyone else they are like oblivious to what that word means.” I was so excited I started jumping up and down. He smiled at me, and before you knew it, we were both laughing.

“I want to see how good a reader you are. I never met an avid reader such as myself before. This should be interesting.” I shook my head. “What are you acting like that for?”

“That’s such an old word. What about appealing?” he stroked his chin in wonderment. The way he talked was sort of a mixture of black speech and proper English.

“Hmm… that’s a good one. Now my test will start. Who wrote The Princess Bride?” he stared at me smugly as though he had just asked why god created humans. I grinned.

“Two authors wrote that book.” He stared at me open-mouthed. “Actually, there is just one author, but he uses two names, and he has books published under each name, but the identity he used when he made the book was S. Morgenstern. His other identity he uses is Goldman.” He nearly fell out of bed.

“No way! No way! A fellow reader like me! Got another question for you. If you can tell me where this quote comes from, I will just die. Ok? Here it is. ‘99% of everything is crap.’” I knew I have heard that somewhere before, and it was a book I had at home. I didn’t have to think hard before I get the answer.

“That would be Sturgeon’s Law.” I said. “A very good book. I also think that the Princess Bride would be a good book also, since it has everything an English teacher hopes for. All the literary elements-“ he put a hand on my arm and I shut up. He grinned from ear to ear.

“You’re awesome! I never had such a benevolent feeling in my life! A fellow reader. I never thought I would meet one!” I never thought I would meet a book lover like me either.

“My name’s Robert.” I said shaking hands with this huge person.

“Name is Shawn.” He looked down at me from his sitting position, which is hard because his head nearly hit the light above his bed. He locked eyes on my twisted leg.

“Yeah. I have CP.” I inform him. “And I am also visually impaired.” He laughed.

“And you stutter.” I hung my head in pure shame. He sternly looked at me. “Why are you so ashamed? You should not be. What color skin do I have?” I thought this was some crazy rant, but I said “black”.

“That’s right. I got skin the color of night, and I am proud of it. You should be proud of your deformities. They make you stronger and you can live forever no matter how many obstacles you face. Your soul will always live on!” He stared past me out the window into space. I started to sense something now. He is sad, but why is he so sad? I had to know, so I asked, “Hey… you ok?” He looked at me and said, “Some people don’t have as long a time as others do to enjoy life.” I didn’t know what to say. The revelation just hit me like five smacks from my mom’s open palm.

“You have cancer don’t you?” He stared at me as if I told his mom that he was gay. “Yes!” He hissed. He looked away again. I came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, and put my hand on his shoulder. I felt so bad for him, I wanted to trade bodies. “Are you afraid?” I asked timidly. He turned to me. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Afraid of what? Dying? Yes, I am. I am horrified. I am horrified that I have to leave all my friends that I care about so much behind.” He looked at me somberly. “Even the ones I just met,” he said. I felt so sorry for him. His world was ending and he was only a teenager. He wouldn’t get the chance to graduate, marry, have kids, dance at the prom, anything. This was so unfair. I handed him a tissue and he wiped his eyes. I patted his shoulder and squeezed it. He then stared at me for so long I thought he zoned out.

“What’s that on your cheek?” I slowly touched the dried blood.

“It’s nothing.” I lied. I wasn’t going to tell him about my mom hurting me. I didn’t trust him enough to tell him. I felt like an idiot because I forgot to clean it up.

“That looks like a slash.”

“I’m fine.” I snapped but he took me in the bathroom anyway, and cleaned me up. I remembered scrubbing at my cheek with my nails the night before, trying to make the blood disappear so people at school wouldn’t ask too many questions. I didn’t get all of it though and now in the bathroom, I hated myself for that. How could I have been so stupid? I’m usually more careful.

“How did you get cut?” I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t trust him.

“You know Robert, from here, I saw you come in with that black man. He’s not your dad because you and he have different noses and ears. And, judging from the black eyes you have and the scratches on your hands…” he paused, and took my small hand in his massive one.

“Please tell me. Is there something rotten in the state of Denmark?” I could not help but look at him. My blank defiant stare spoke so many thousand words that day.

“No.” I finally said. He leaned in closer, studying my eyes.

“You have wisdom.”

“Everybody can get THAT.” I spat.

“No. they can’t. Wisdom is just lessons that you have learned through life, and I’m not talking about positive ones either.”

“Stop trying.” I snapped. You won’t crack my safe. He leaned back and stared at my hands all cut up.

“I can deduce the combination.”

“No. you won’t.” I felt like I wanted to cry. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. I didn’t tell him, but he did manage to clean up my hands better than I did. We sat back down, and he looked at the books I had on the table. He flipped through all of them. He stopped at The Giver.

“I’ve never read this one.” He looked at the synopsis of the book. “It sounds good.”

“Oh, it’s better than good!” I squalled.

“Really?” he said studying the synopsis. We talked about books, and some of our favorites and dislikes. He said he just read Gift of the Magic, and I asked if he had caught the mistake in it.

“What mistake?”

“Well, you know, the part at the very beginning, the part where she’s talking about the pennies, and how she saved up a $1.87, and she saved them up one and two at a time?”

“Yeah.” he said leaning forward.

“Think about it. If you subtract 60 from that, what do you get? $1.27. So she couldn’t have saved them up one and two at a time, especially in those days.” His eyes bulged so huge even I could see them!

A few minutes later Shawn and I were saying good byes to each other. I didn’t know he was only 17. One year younger than I. After I was ready Shawn shook my hand hard as I sat on the bed.

“You were awesome.” I said. He squeezed my hand tightly before saying trying not to sob, “Don’t forget me ok?”

“I won’t.” I brandished one of the  books I was holding and handed it to him,  I took a marker and wrote: May I am with you in spirit always; on the inside cover of the book. Then I printed my name at the bottom of that short note.

“The Giver?” he says in his deep voice.

“Yes!” I say. “Read it.”

“But I may not have time-“

“Read it!” I sternly scolded him. “Trust me. A fellow reader, please?” He took the book out of my hands. He reached along side his bed and pulled out a book and handed it to me. The title caught me the minute I laid eyes on it. Ender’s Game.

“Now, I want you to read that for me okay?” I nodded, slowly taking the book. I held it to my chest as if it were pure gold. I said goodbye to Shawn, it was hard leaving a new friend behind, but I managed to keep my cool as I clutched Ender’s Game to my chest.

The rest of the vacation I hung out with Shawn even though the nurses didn’t like the fact that Shawn exited the hospital. He was surprisingly healthy, even healthier than I ever was. I took him to the park where we had a picnic lunch, I even took him to a movie. Shawn was an orphan and no one adopted him. He wasn’t mean to me because I was blind, he just looked at it as another obstacle; even though it was an extra one, it still was just a mere obstacle.

“You know, people make obstacles sometimes.” I blurted out one day. As we sat under a blue sky munching on hot dogs.

“Okay, see, you are wise. Don’t hide it. It’s refreshing.” He really threw me off when he asked me about love.

“Do you think love can be bought?”

“I do, but not with items or cash. Animals and people can buy love, in itself. We can buy each other’s love and keep it, and share it.” He looked at me, nodding.

“Go on.”

“They can do it by giving a little kindness, like a hug, or a kiss, or just even a kind heart, or just being a good…”

“Friend?” he cut me off quickly.

“Yes, can buy love. That’s what I think.”

“Nice job Dr. Phil.” I laughed so hard I choked on my hot dog.

One day, I gave him my home address as well as my email address so he could write to me often. The nurses at the hospital loved me since I was so nice and shy and funny. They typed up Shawn’s letters and sent them to me. I emailed mine to one of the nurses there and she would print it out and deliver it the next day.

Time passed. Before I knew it, I had to go to school in one day. I sat in my room thinking about Shawn. I wondered if he finished the book. Yet. No man should pass up great literature. People like me, and Shawn are never heard in the real world. No one even knows what a novel is anymore. They would rather sit in front of a computer or play a video game. Readers must be rare, because Shawn is the only one who I know of that loves my love. And that is books. I do not know why this revelation hit me so hard then, maybe it’s because I never met a dying kid before, or perhaps I made the last few months, or days, or maybe even hours of a kid happy. I will never know. A box came in the mail that day; it’s the book that I gave Shawn two weeks ago at the hospital. Along side it there was a small note, I took it outside and read it. When I read the nurses note, it said just four words. I had an aching feeling in my heart. The letter said

“You made him happy.”

I opened the book because I saw something sticking out of it. It was a letter from Shawn:

Robert. The book was awesome! I loved it! So much literary elements are portrayed in the book, but I am sure you knew that already. Well, I hate to say this, but if you’re reading this, I’m already dead. When I met you, I was at my last breath. I knew I was going to die soon, but I didn’t want to tell you I’m sorry. You did make me happy my last few weeks, and that’s what a good friend is. I’m so sorry Robert. That’s why I don’t, or didn’t, like making any friends, because I know, or knew how much they would be hurting. I think though, that with you I have made the right choice. Did you read Ender’s Game yet? I hope you did. There is a flaw in the book itself. See if you can find it for me. Will you? My mom says there is one, but I never could locate it no matter how hard I looked, there was no spelling mistake or grammar mistake that I could discern from reading it. Aside from that, I do not have the time now. I think you can though, you are smart. Very smart. I wish that more people could look past the deformities we have, and look at US. At what we have to offer as a person, but I know that will never happen. Not in a million years will people not laugh at the color of our skin, or the cane we hold in front of us. I was strong, now I want you to be the same way. Strong. Be the strong for all us readers out there who are too afraid to. So, my strong fellow reader. Solve that mystery that I could not, and keep my memory and me in your heart. Goodbye Robert. And keep reading!

After I read the letter, I was crying as if I were a dying whale. No one could surmount my sobs. And I didn’t care that people were staring at me. I stood there crying my eyes out. I walked to the edge of the street, paper in hand. I looked up at the setting sun and tears came to me again. I had school tomorrow, and I didn’t want to go to English class. Mrs. Fonda was going to make us tell about our Thanksgiving and I didn’t want to do that. As the glowing sun went to sleep in the darkening sky, I looked up at the heavens, and said my final goodbye. “I will Shawn. I will. No doubt about it. You can count on me.” And letting the paper go I watched it float away, spiraling and flipping high in the purple sky, toward the hospital.

Photo by Ruurmo