“I don’t wanna meet anyone! Everyone acts the same towards me and I’ve had it.” The patient’s yelling was followed by stern mumbling from the nurse. The tension had begun before I had even stepped into the room and my stomach settled into an uneasy feeling. The door hesitantly opened and the nurse poked her head out, signaling me to enter. My eyes fell directly towards her name tag reading “Mary, a proud nurse at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.” I took a deep breath and tried my hardest to maintain a positive attitude. Don’t get me wrong, I love volunteering, but a day spent at a hospital, walking room to room to find yet another patient looking dismally into space as I helplessly tried to bring them cheer was not as easy as it may sound.

“Alana, this is Salma. Salma, Alana.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I managed with the most genuine smile spread across my lips as possible.

Alana’s head was down, her chin in the palms of her hands, and her face covered with a thick layer of blonde waves. Her eyes were directed at the silver sparkles on my boots. “Nice shoes,” she muttered, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "A bit ostentatious for a day spent at a hospital don't you think?"

I didn’t even see her eyes, but somehow I knew they had rolled to the back of her head in disgust.

The nurse shifted uncomfortably and gave me an apologetic look I smiled reassuringly and pulled up the nearest chair towards Alana. Taking my hint, the nurse excused herself. “You two have fun” her eyes met mine, “call me if you need anything” then moved right to Alana, “behave.”

The door shut softly behind her. I turned to face Alana, who was mesmerized by her own hands and the bits of fuchsia clinging to her fingernails.

“Well hi Alana my name’s umm uhh Salma.” I found it strange that I was stuttering, as I was usually the one to dive right into a conversation and ease the awkwardness. At least until now.

“You seem to be struggling with your own name? I heard her mention it earlier anyway.”

“Uh okay, good. Well you seem like a vastly interesting person and I would love to learn more about you. So how old are you? When’s your birthday? What’s your favorite color?”

“13, August 24th, and green.”
“Oh cool! Do you have any-”
“ Okay just stop"

"What do you mean?"

"You really don’t have to act like this. In fact do me a favor and please don't pretend like you care so much about me when you and I both know that the reason why you're here is to add impressive things to your resume and get into a top notch school for the rich and snobby. The last thing I need is pity from a careless, spoiled teenager who has had everything handed to her. You really don’t care how old I am or about my life. You know it’s coming to an end and you wanna make me feel better. Well guess what? It doesn’t. Nothing is gonna make me feel better and no one understands me so you can cut the charades and might as well  leave now.”

Her words penetrated deep into my chest, piercing through my heart, giving my body an empty feeling as if she had just hurdled a dagger towards me. Not a word was spoken. The room was filled with the sound of silence.

“I’m sorry for the outburst, but I only said the truth.”

The tears welling in her eyes, hands shaking in fear and her body fidgeting with uneasiness. After what seemed like an hour, my vocal chords began to function.

“No need to apologize. I know how overwhelming it must be and I might’ve come off a bit too strong at first. Or maybe a lot. I really wanted to be outgoing and stuff but I guess I’ll just stick to being anti-social.”

Her face slightly brightened with a muffled giggle at what was apparently my humor.

“Okay, jokes aside, from the moment you walked in, I thought that you would be rich and arrogant because your-” Alana pointed at my feet before I cut her off.

“Prejudice based on my shoes? Oh I see,” I teased.

“You know it’s not everyday someone strolls into a hospital with a $200 pair of shoes, so I just assumed-”
“You assu-”

“Wrongly. It was wrong of me, I’ll admit that. I guess you seem nice and stuff. Well you are the first person to not walk in with a frown and ask me about my disease.”

“I didn’t feel the need to. Why would I? Your internal beauty reflects your exterior without any regards to the disease. Nobody should be treated differently because of their circumstances. On the contrary, people bond in respect of what they have in common, not what sets them apart,” I claimed.

Conversations effortlessly changed. Talking went from the difficulty of running in quicksand to soaring swiftly in the sky.

Mary returned a couple of hours later expecting to find us stiffly sitting in our same positions, emotionally isolated from one another, but was strangely surprised to discover us watching a movie and indulging in all kinds of confections. “ Salma, you guys will be leaving in a few minutes. You should probably get your things together.”

We glanced at each other wistfully and it seemed a stream of tears would run down each of our faces.
“Thank you for acting like a normal person around me Salma. I’ll never forget that.”

“And I’ll never forget you Alana.”

As tears clouded up her royal-colored eyes, I felt my throat tighten with sorrow, but managed to signal not a “goodbye” but a “see you later.”

Since then, Alana’s golden tresses have nearly disappeared due to the harsh chemotherapy she has been treated with. She continues to persevere in her enduring uphill battle with leukemia.