Alina Miranda Courdanelle loathed the white walls. They were so boring and depressing and sterile. She wished they could all just be bright and cheerful. But no. Whenever she woke up, they were always there: white and depressing.
Alina had been staring at these walls for years. Her room was drab and Spartan, just those white walls, a small TV set mounted in the corner, a nightstand with a lamp and a few well-read books and magazines, the bed she now laid in, and three beige chairs with armrests assembled around the bed. Oh, and then of course, there was all the equipment. Heart monitors, IVs, all sorts of medical shit, all with some sort of purpose, all jabbed into her body in some way.
Alina lifted a pale, bony hand to which an IV was taped, and summoning her strength, opened one of the nightstand’s drawers. She removed a small, handheld mirror from the drawer and held it up to see her reflection. She was disgusted by the image that stared back at her.
She was emaciated; she looked like a skeleton with pieces of nearly transparent skin stretching over its bones. Her skin was extremely pale, even her freckles were nearly white; the only hint of pigment was the slight pink in her cheeks. She had big dark bags under her glassy emerald eyes, making her look much older than her sixteen years. Her long brown hair was sweaty and thin, pulled back in a messy ponytail.
Alina wanted to throw the mirror, hear it shatter against the wall, but she had not the strength to do so. Instead, she dropped in next to her and turned her head away from it. She once again began to stare at the dreadful white walls.
“Alina?”
Alina knew that voice, of course. It belonged to Tarri Rodriguez, one of the pediatric ward’s residents; she was going for her MD. She’d known Tarri for years, since she’d been in and out of this hospital most of her life. Tarri was one of the only people she could call a friend. Tarri was young, only twenty-two, six years older than Alina, herself.
Alina whipped her head around to Tarri’s, and felt dizzy immediately. Blinking away the spots that suddenly obscured her vision, she looked her friend up and down. Tarri had short, stylish hair dyed a dark red and black eyes. She was somewhat short, only 5’3”, and petite. Her skin radiated health, instead of being the sickly, translucent color of Alina’s, it was a nice crème, giving away her mixed heritage.
“Hey, Tare.” Alina responded, her voice husky from not speaking.
“How’re you doin’ chica?” Tarri smiled.
“Honestly?”
Tarri pointed to her hospital ID. “You see this? This means when I ask about health, I demand a truthful answer.”
Alina laughed, but that quickly turned into a cough. Looking concerned, Tarri moved closer to her bed and scanned all the machines she was hooked up to. Alina, weakly, waved a hand, warding Tarri off.
“I’ve been much better.” Alina hated the look of sadness and despair that came across Tarri’s face. “Tare, don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…I don’t like seeing my friends sick.”
“Well then medicine was a great field to pick a career in.” Alina replied, sarcastically.
“Do you need anything?” Tarri changed the subject. “More books?” Tarri nodded her head at the books that littered the floor on the other side of Alina’s bed.
“That would be cool. I finished the last batch.”
“No prob.”
“Gracias, mi amiga.”
Tarri smiled. “De nada. Want me to go get us some food and we can eat and have a gossip fest in here?”
Alina looked suddenly downcast. “Soon, we’ll be able to actually eat in the cafeteria.”
“Ah, screw that. Why eat the shit from the cafeteria? Soon we’ll be going to the Golden Arches for lunch.”
Alina smiled, feeling generally comforted. Tarri was the kind of person who almost always knew the best things to say to cheer people up. All Alina needed to do was wait for her surgery. Then everything would be different. She knew it would be different. It had to be.