A few days passed, but finally, I was allowed to visit Quincy. She looked so weak and fragile. I've never seen her like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Quincy was the strong one, Quincy was the one with her entire life ahead of her.
I looked at the clock on the walls. It was three in the afternoon.
"Hey," I greeted softly.
She looked at me. She was so pale, with IV's dripping into plastic tubes in her arms. The same tubes were in her nose, doing whatever it was that they did. I hated all this medical business. I hated hospitals. But I needed to be here for her. She tried to smile, but didn't succeed.
"How are you feeling?" I asked. It was a stupid question. I knew that she hated it here too. I knew that she felt like hell.
"Better, at least," she whispered. I walked over to sit in the chair beside her bed. She held out her fist, and I wrapped my pinkie around hers and put our fists together. This was our special thing.
"That's good. Quincy, I'm so sorry. If I hadn't talked you into this--" I couldn't finish. The words were stuck in my throat.
"Hey. This isn't your fault. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides... the cancer would've been discovered anyways. And, it's better we caught it early so it can't spread," she said, trying to squeeze my pinkie; the action was feeble, though.
"Quincy, I don't know what to do. You know I can't make it on my own. You're the only way I survive the days that go by," My voice cracked on every other word. Warm tears started flowing again, for the thousandth time this week.
"Hey. I'm going to be okay. And when this is all over, we're gonna make it big. Together," she said. The light in her eyes was genuine, but she was still too weak that her words didn't make a whole lot of sense.
Of course, making it big was what we've talked about for years. Quincy was going to be a famous actress, and I would be a movie producer. That was the Plan.
But... if... if Quincy didn't make..... no. I cannot think like this. Quincy will survive. She has to.
We sat in silence thinking. I had stopped crying, but the salty wetness was still shiny on my pink cheeks.
For the next month, I continued visiting Quincy everyday after school.