"My Vanishing Friend" by Yana Kovarik-Drust
She walks into McDonald’s at 1:00 p.m. She carries two duffel bags and an empty coffee cup as if hoping for a refill. No one knows why, but she comes every day like clockwork. Until they ask her not to come back. Then I have to search other McDonalds until I find her again.
She sits down and starts searching her bags with a puzzled expression. Unnoticed, I watch her looking for something she obviously can´t find, taking things out and putting them back again.
This is Amy, my friend for many years, but at the same time, it is not. When did I lose the real Amy? How did it happen? I look back into the past, giving her time to get settled. If I approach her now, I will startle her and it will take longer to recognize me.
She used to be my luminous friend. Everyone that crossed her path was touched by her kindness, but kindness can twist you inside when you don’t receive kindness in return. It didn’t come quickly, this change in her.
Ten years ago, she decided to hide her cancer from others. For six months, I took her to her cancer treatments and her health improved, but her mind was already on the road to deterioration. Losing her job was the final blow. I imagine that she woke up one morning and there was only emptiness and despair on her horizon. That is when she let herself be swallowed by the persona she has become.
Thickened by countless disappointments, so many unsaid things must have bruised her soul, but when I tried to reach over that wall, there was no drawbridge to be had. Today, I can’t find her in those vacant eyes, while she searches through her bags once more. Now she walks with shadows.
I check on her as often as I can, but every time my chest feels tight at the thought of not finding her. She has been disappearing by inches. Sometimes, the walls we build for protection, end up swallowing us. I know that one day soon, she will not recognize me at all, when the final shadows waiting on the hill, will finally come and take her.
I buy her favorite, chicken tenders, and bring them to the table. She looks up, irritated that I interrupted the search of her bags. It takes a few seconds, but then a light of recognition appears in her eyes. She seems happy to see me. She leaves the bags and eats, hungrily.
“How are you doing, Amy?” I asked, when she finishes, looking into her eyes.
She shrugs her shoulders and answers: “I have cancer, you know.” She points to her neck, her mind still on the cancer she beat so long ago. I ask her why she does not answer my calls.
“These bags! She says with frustration. “I can’t find anything in them and I don’t hear the phone.”
“Do you want me to drive you home?” I ask.
“Don’t worry, I like to walk.”
For a brief moment, that flash of recognition gave me hope, but the answer is always the same: “I like to walk.”
We hug before I leave. I detect the odor of neglect. She promises to call, which she never does; she couldn’t even if she tried. As I drive away, I remember the girl I knew, but sadly, I have to admit my name might already be forgotten.
Yana Kovarik-Drust was born in the Czech Republic, grew up in Peru where she got a teaching degree in Spanish and Literature. She now lives in California. She published her book The Magic Book of Answers in 2015. She has clips in magazines like Woman’s World, Ipstori, and various Spanish newspapers. For more of her work visit her blogs, Letters to Seth and Yana’s World of Words.
