Meeting Again

Jennifer glanced around the room casually, quickly noticing the chaos left behind on the neighboring bed—a deep blue backpack, a couple of torn pieces of paper, and some crafting tools. "What's today's activity? Are we making something?" 

Heather engaged in extensive rehabilitation every day to maintain muscle development and flexibility. Even activities as simple as writing involved finger movements were considered part of her rehabilitation process.

"Kites," Heather responded instinctively, then realizing her mistake, she corrected herself, "No, today's rehabilitation isn't about making anything, it's..." Heather felt irritated, not wanting to continue discussing her rehabilitation. So, she cut herself off, "Anyway, those aren't rehabilitation activities, they're just... they're just..." Heather couldn't find the right words to describe it, feeling utterly frustrated.

Jennifer could sense Heather's conflict and hesitation but didn't press further. Half-jokingly, she commented, "So, what about the kite? Did the guy make it halfway and then sneak out?"

Heather remained silent, turning to look out the window with an inscrutable expression, leaving Jennifer unable to guess her thoughts.

Noticing Heather's silence, Jennifer walked to the window and saw the cheerful crowd below—Alex running downhill with a kite in hand, a little girl behind him holding the kite spool, and a tall man squatting down, controlling the kite's speed. A group of children followed Alex aimlessly, amid laughter, chatter, and cheering, all under the early spring sunlight, breaking free from the winter's shackles. Nearby, many hospitalized children and their parents stood, all seemingly enjoying the spectacle, smiles involuntarily appearing on their faces.

Unconsciously, Jennifer's lips curved slightly upward.

As a children's hospital, Mount Sinai Hospital, despite its efforts to stay optimistic, always carried an underlying heaviness. The suffering of these young lives was always heart-wrenching. But today, the shattered laughter, stirred by the gentle breeze, brought life to the entire hospital.

Turning back, Jennifer noticed Heather quickly relax her clenched teeth, but the gradual return of color to her lips betrayed her earlier action, and her eyes couldn't hide the envy brewing within.

In the past few months, Jennifer had visited Heather whenever she could. Perhaps because they were both girls of similar age, Heather didn't mind her presence, making them decent friends. But today, Heather's reaction was indeed unusual.

After a moment's thought, Jennifer cautiously asked, "Heather, is he the one who made the kite?" Though not explicit, Jennifer's intuition told her that Heather knew who she was talking about, yet Heather didn't directly answer. Instead, she lowered her gaze, avoiding the question, which only added to Jennifer's curiosity.

Suddenly, a flash of insight struck Jennifer. Tentatively, she said, "So, he's the guy?" The one who had disappeared for almost eight months due to work.

Jennifer had heard stories about him until her ears were calloused. Every nurse here knew him, and many praised him endlessly. Later, he left New York for work, but he consistently called to check on everyone. Even Heather, who always eagerly recounted tales about him, seemed to glow with memories as bright as sunshine.

But as time passed, he never returned to New York. Heather gradually lost her smile, almost convinced he wouldn't come back, much like her friends who had slowly disappeared from her life. So, Heather closed herself off again, refusing to make new friends, even becoming less enthusiastic about rehabilitation, as if... giving up.

Jennifer's words seemed to trigger a slight furrowing of Heather's brows, a turbulent emotion flickering in her eyes, even though she didn't speak, Jennifer had already gotten the answer she sought.

Without a word, Jennifer turned to the window again. Being too far away, she couldn't see the man's face, only a small figure about the size of a palm. But his radiant smile outshone the sunlight, drawing her gaze irresistibly towards him.

"Yes, it's him," Heather abruptly spoke, breaking the silence in the room, "It's Renly."

"The legendary Renly!" Jennifer joked meaningfully. Their exchange was almost too obvious—an inside joke among girls. Jennifer hardly concealed her implication—Heather was infatuated with Renly.

This banter made Heather grit her teeth. "I just like the music he recommends," she explained, feeling it wasn't enough, adding, "He's knowledgeable, seems to know everything. I just enjoy talking to him."

Nobody could know everything. But Jennifer didn't burst Heather's bubble of fantasy. Every girl had a crush who seemed omnipotent, radiating brilliance with every move. Whenever he appeared, he was the center of the world. Every girl was the same. Jennifer couldn't help but think of her own crush—was it high school? Middle school? Memories had become so blurred.

"So, Renly finally came back. Aren't you supposed to be happy?" Jennifer asked curiously.

Heather looked silently out the window, a hint of envy in her eyes. She envied those who could run freely, feel the solidness of the earth beneath their feet; she envied those who could laugh heartily, their lungs never feeling scorched or obstructed; she envied those who could enjoy the sunshine like normal people, speaking, writing, walking—things that were taken for granted by others but gradually stripped away from her. She felt a sense of shame.

"But he'll leave again eventually, won't he?" Heather said softly. Having experienced departure after departure, she was weary.

Jennifer sighed softly, "How do you know he's not worried about you leaving?"

"How can I leave? I'm stuck here! Forever!" Heather shouted, sitting up abruptly, fists clenched, cheeks flushed, pouring out her anger with all her strength.

Jennifer wanted to give her a hug but restrained herself because she knew Heather didn't need comfort or pity at that moment. "Heather, you know what I mean." Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) had no cure at the moment. Given the progression of Heather's condition, she might be the first to leave, not Renly or anyone else. "Renly chose to come back; he's braver than most, and you chose to escape."

Jennifer's words were harsh, ripping off Heather's cover of pride, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. But Jennifer didn't stop there. "The doctor said you can still walk." Heather's condition had progressed faster than expected but hadn't deteriorated to a terrible extent. Heather could still walk, but she chose to give up.

Heather was struck with pain, speechless, unable to respond. Instead, she yelled at Jennifer, "You don't know! You don't know anything! You're healthy, standing there watching me make a fool of myself. Your words are so light, but you don't know what they mean to me!" Heather pointed to the door, "Get out, I'm asking you to leave!"

Jennifer hesitated, wanting to say something more, but after a moment's pause, she simply left the room.

She wanted to help Heather desperately, but she was too young, inexperienced. In her twenty years of life, she hadn't faced many storms. Sometimes, even though she wanted to help, she felt powerless. This sense of helplessness and frustration made her hate herself.

But she also knew it wasn't about her. The patients suffering from illness were the protagonists. She couldn't force her goodwill on them just because she felt powerless and anxious, could she?

Leaving the ward, Jennifer's mind was a jumble of thoughts. She didn't look up and almost collided with a wall at the door. Stepping back, she looked up and saw Renly standing at the door, instantly recognizing him as the man she had met at the Los Angeles airport. The kite in his hand hinted that he was indeed Renly, as Heather had mentioned. The information overload left Jennifer completely overwhelmed.

Renly also noticed Jennifer and gave her a slight nod with the corners of his lips curving upwards. He had heard the tail end of the argument earlier and was curious about who was involved. He didn't expect to see someone entirely unexpected. But he had more important tasks at hand. With a smile, he entered the room after opening the door.

"Get out!" Heather didn't even see who had come in; she just roared. But this time, she received no response. So she shouted again, "Get out!" and then she saw Renly.

Renly stood there holding a butterfly kite, smiling peacefully. He showed no sign of being affected by Heather's emotional fluctuations, just calmly standing there.

Heather felt as if she had hit a wall of cotton, unable to summon any strength. It felt awful. So she turned her head angrily, refusing to communicate with Renly in any way.

Renly took another step forward, walked to the window, carefully placed the kite, and took two steps back to admire it, ensuring everything was in order. Then he smiled at Heather, "I'll leave now. See you next week, Heather." As if nothing had happened, Renly walked to the side, tidied up his things, and then left the room.

The room fell silent again, but Heather's gaze couldn't help but fall on the kite, placed motionless by the transparent window behind which lay the azure sky. It seemed out of place yet incredibly harmonious, and her mind couldn't help but picture the kite flying high in the sky.