The Songs of Leslie Orange

Mikel watched as a nurse spoke to a middle height, teenage girl. She stood out in the small hospital. Everyone around her had much darker skin than she did. From where he lay, Mikel couldn’t pick anything off this girl. Her face was expressionless, yet understanding. Her stance was confident, yet subtle. Her posture showed she carried almost no weight, yet her hands were full, a black and grey backpack in one, and a midnight black acoustic in the other. She nodded as the nurse spoke and pointed several times at Mikel’s room. The girl nodded one last time, and head for Mikel. His room door opened, and the girl walked up to his bedside. The girl had an air about her, something that made Mikel relax. She smiled at him.
“Hello,” she whispered softly, “I’m Leslie. What’s your name?” Leslie placed her backpack on the floor, and sat in a chair next to Mikel’s bed. Mikel eyed her for a moment, and then spoke.
“Mikel,” he said. His voice was soft, but sickly. Leslie’s expression remained blank.
“How are you Mikel?” Leslie asked. She placed her guitar against the wall.
“I’m sick,” he said. Leslie predicted the obvious answer to the obvious question. She nodded.
“You look tired,” she said, “why don’t you go to sleep?” Mikel swallowed.
“I don’t want to die,” he said. Again, Leslie’s expression didn’t change.
“You think the longer you stay awake, the longer you’ll live?” She asked. Mikel swallowed again, and then nodded. Leslie nodded. “Not sleeping will actually kill you faster than sleeping,” she said. Mikel said nothing. She knew he wouldn’t care. His eyes left hers and glanced at her guitar.
“What is that?” He asked. He had never seen a guitar before. Leslie smiled.
“That’s my guitar,” Leslie said, “I carry it around with me everywhere.”
“Can I hold it?” Mikel asked. Leslie nodded. She bent over, grabbed the guitar, and placed it in Mikel’s lap. Mikel strummed a few of its strings. Leslie took out her song book. “What’s that?” He asked.
“It’s my song book,” she said, “it’s where I keep all of my songs.”
“What do you sing about?”
“Anything and everything.”
“Can you write a song about me?” He asked. Leslie laughed softly.
“Of course I can,” she said. The next few minutes were spent writing for Leslie, and strumming away on her guitar by Mikel. His breathing became heavier. She put her pencil away. “It’s all done,” she said. Mikel smiled. He handed the guitar back to Leslie. She strummed it a bit, to make sure it was in tune. She took her pick out of her back pocket, and started playing, but only the higher notes, because she felt that the song shouldn’t be played with deeper sounds. Mikel closed his eyes, and listened to her lullaby-like song.

Mikel the tired boy
Needs to sleep a deep sleep
Trying to fight what he can’t
Trying to keep what he can’t keep

Go to sleep Mikel
You don’t need to fight
I know how you feel
And how you’re scared at the sight

Let go, young one
Let it take you away
Away from your fears
Your worries of today

Do you see the gates?
Opening up for you?
Please nod your nod
Please say that you do

Let the light surround you
Let it fill you with bliss
Don’t deny it anymore
Accept God’s kiss

Can you still hear me?
From the palace in the sky?
Just wave Mikel
Wave and say goodbye

Leslie sighed as she finished. She wiped a tear out of her eye, and looked up at Mikel. She wasn’t sure how long he had been gone for. A nurse standing at the room’s door looked at Leslie. She nodded, and group of nurses walked in and start shutting the machines around Mikel off. Leslie gathered her things and left. The head nurse met her outside.
“Thank you, for getting him to sleep,” she said. Leslie nodded.
“Whatever I can do to help,” she said. She wiped her eyes again. The nurse just watched her.
“Why did you volunteer for this?” The nurse asked. “What brought this young American girl all the way to Africa?” Leslie shrugged as she placed her songbook back into her backpack.
“I came here…because I felt that I needed to,” she said, “and I volunteered because I heard about Mikel when I got here.” The nursed nodded. She could see Leslie was trying to keep her composure.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” The nursed asked. Leslie shook her head.
“No,” she said, “You’ve done enough by just letting me help,” Leslie said with a slight smile. She tossed her bag over her shoulder and started for the door. The nursed watched as she left. Leslie walked past rooms and rooms of other sick children, woman, and men, all sleeping in their beds, but none sleeping like Mikel. She knew, though, that Mikel was in a better place. There was no reason to be sad. Her smile grew as she left, and she still cried, but cried because she was happy in a way. She walked down the dirt road. It was night out, and the air was warm and still. The sky was filled with stars as she walked. She stared at them. She felt like Mkel was looking at her right now. She waved, and looked back at the path ahead of her. She never wondered where she was going, as long as she got there. For some reason, the departure of Mikel left her wondering about where exactly she was headed, though she didn’t know why. She came to a fork in the path. She stopped. Looking down both dark paths, she was stuck trying to make a decision. A boy, hardly visible, stood at the end of one path. She waved at him.
“Hey!” She cried. The boy waved for her to follow. She did, and met him where he stood. They began to walk.
“What’s your name?” The boy asked.
“Leslie,” Leslie said, “what’s yours?”
“Mikel,” he said. Leslie smiled.
“Nice to meet you Mikel,” she said. Mikel held her hand, and led her down the dark path, towards the lights of the next village.