By some miracle I broke free from my trance and ran out of the door. As I drove the fifteen minutes to Shelly’s out of the way home all I could hear was her crying wails of pain. Through out our bizarre friendship I had never seen or even heard her cry. Shelly had always seemed so strong to me, being herself no matter what others thought. Suddenly I realized I admired the strength Shelly had in her for being that woman who would be honest and do as she wished. I even admired her taste in dark clothing, which had caused others to point and stare.
The way Shelly would react when a whim struck her to call out and howl to the moon now made me smile and wish to howl at it with her. What could have made this pillar of strength woman fall so completely as to wail so?
Reaching her house, I launched myself from the car racing inward. Opening the door, the sight finally caused my mind to acknowledge the sounds of breaking objects I had heard on the phone. The beautiful bowls I had seen Shelly make with such passion and craft were shattered on the carpet at my feet by the front doorway. Papers of her artwork were now torn and ripped apart. All her wonderful work ruined, gone.
The sound of soft whimpering drifted from the kitchen around the corner. Racing to find her I shot past the broken ceramics and shredded papers. Reaching the room, I found Shelly on the floor. A knife lay near by and on it was blood. Than the pool of red liquid registered on my mind, blood. Her blood. Lifting the whimpering rag doll I noticed her wrists, squirting out Shelly’s precious life’s blood on to the floor. Grabbing a kitchen towel from it rack I wrapped it about the slit wrists as best I could. Damning myself for being so inept and incompetent.
My actions became unconscious as I picked her up and hefted Shelly in to my car. Driving like a manic to the closest hospital I knew of, Saint Christopher’s Memorial Hospital; a good thirty minutes away. Pushing the pedal all the way down, my old beater zoomed past others. I kept talking to her, trying to prevent Shelly form slipping away completely. In the background of my senses I heard sirens wailing behind me, but continued on. Reaching the parking lot of the hospital I screeched to a halt in front of the emergency entrance. Bounding from my car I gave no attention to the voices yelling senseless words of “Halt, police”, or, “Hands in the air”, or any other pointless phrases. The only thing I was conscienious was of her and getting the help Shelly needed.
Carrying Shelly inside within my arms I screamed for help at which a man in light blue clothes ran to me. He took her motionless body from me. A woman ran up also, asking me questions that I answered without conscienious awareness. They took Shelly into a tiled room, cluttered with shiny things that I had seen in TV emergency rooms. A set of attendants worked on her wrists as others placed an oxygen mask on her mouth and another listened for a heart beat.
Unnoticeable tears ran across my face as I watched them try desperately to resuscitate Shelly back to life. These experts of life moved about her talking in their medical language about Shelly. Moving fluidly about, they practiced their art upon her. Every second passed like an eternity as I watched Shelly remain still and unmoving. My heart broke farther and farther apart as I saw them giving Shelly all they had and her body resisting.
When the man who had been pounding Shelly’s chest desperately, trying with all his might to make her heart beat, said, “Time of death 11:31 p.m. Sunday, March 11.” I cried out all the pain I had held in and collapsed to my knees trying to deny the truth. Shelly had to live, she was the strongest person I knew, and in the times of greatest pain and sorrow I knew I loved her. Not the tainted love of lust, but a love of the purest kind; knowing not physical corruption. Shelly’s entrance into my life was the greatest thing I had known and now it was taken away from me. The one person who had meant so much had taken themselves permanently out of my life. I felt a gentle hand touch my hunched back trying to ease my wailing. Than my befuddled mind recognized the sound, the same sound Shelly had been making when I had called.
How lonely I now felt, even the touch of the nurse was absent to my awareness. Torturing memories flashed in and out like thunder of my typhoon like thoughts. Nothing made sense, my closest friend in the world was gone, and with no reason why.
Coming loudly to over take my attention, simple words spoke in a faint whisper to my mind’s ear. “Strength is an illusion of the world. We are all weak, so need a tender touch, a tender word, a tender friend, to aid us in going on...” The tears utterly stopped as I recognized Shelly’s last words to me had proven what kind of friend I had been.