The Apodictic Cure

Andrew had agreed to see her again that day.

And twice the next day.

And the day after that.

He'd been making up for the fact that Miel hadn't been well enough to see her lately. Not quite as good as a substitute, but still good company.

She liked Andrew. Not in the way that, if they had not met in here, she would want to be in a relationship with him, but they could have been close friends. Maybe not as close as she felt with Miel.

Brielle asked frequently how her best friend was doing-- that answer was always the same, "You'll see her soon." They were most likely just trying to shut her up.

"Andrew, can I ask you something?"

He'd been plucking away at his violin and his head snapped up to look at her when she spoke his name.

"Of course you can." He smiled.

"Do you know how Miel is doing?"

His brown eyes broke from their stare, avoiding her completely to examine the woodwork of his instrument. "I- uh..."

She hadn't actually expected him to know anything, but now it was obvious that he did. "Andrew?"

Jessica rushed to her side, grasping her shoulder. "Brielle, I think it's time to go back to your room."

"I'm not going anywhere." She protested. "He knows something about Mimi. Don't you?"

Andrew gave a great sigh, "I do."

"Andrew, that's enough." Jessica snapped, tugging on Brielle's hand. "Lets go."

"Andrew, please!"

He threw his arms around her, making her wince at first, but relax after only a moment. "She's dead, Brielle. I'm so sorry."

She froze, letting Jessica pull Andrew away from her. "That. Is. Enough."

Brielle did not resist Jessica anymore. She did not cry until her head his her pillow. Then it felt as though her crying would never stop.

Two days later Andrew was allowed to visit her, again. She refused to leave her bed, though, so he came to her room. He pulled a chair up beside her and put his hand on her head, stroking her hair, trying to comfort her.

"I know you loved her." He whispered. He'd slouched over, resting his head on the bed, with his face close to hers.

"You don't know anything about what she was to me."

Miel's funeral was held the next afternoon at a catholic church. Brielle was asked to speak, which of course she would. Andrew attended with her.

She recognized very few people at the visitation. The casket was open, though, so she spent most of her time embedding the image of her friend into her brain. "I love you so much, Mimi." She murmured, kissing her lifeless cheek.

Mr. Folie didn't speak, his wife tried, but started sobbing and couldn't finish. The brother spoke, too, but it was nonsense.

Then Brielle took the podium.

She cleared her throat.

"My name is Brielle Charels. Miel is, not was, my best friend. I met her a year and a half ago in our art class where she read my story, I appreciated her watercolor skills, and we talked about the stars.

"She is brilliant and severely under appreciated. She was a dancer, a pessamist, a dreamer, an artist. Most importantly, to me at least, she is, not was, my sister.

"She was not a Christian, and as far as I know did not believe in a God at all, so having her funeral in a church was only for you all-- whom most probably didn't even know that she'd spent a little over the last six months in a psychiatric facility." Everyone was wide-eyed and silent. The were probably angry, ashamed, or making this speech all about themselves, but none the less they were all on the edge of their seats.

"None of you deserve to be here but her family. Maybe I don't even deserve to be here..." She took a deep breath to remove the lump in her throat. "Miel is my best friend, my sister, and my escape. She was strong, but she killed herself to get away from the monsters inside her head. Unfortunately the monsters she was running from were not inside her at all, they are all of you."

Andrew rushed up to the podium and took her arm. He tried to lead her back to their seats, but she refused to stay for the rest of the service. There was not going to be a burial because Miel's parents still wanted to have her cremated. Brielle slammed the church door behind her.

That night she relapsed and made Andrew crash the car. He was hardly injured, just a couple of broken fingers. Brielle had a concussion and fell into a coma that she didn't wake from for two weeks. Andrew almost never left her side.

Six months after she woke up she was discharged with an antidepressant prescription, which, to her surprise, actually helped.

Two months later she got her GED and was soon accepted to the community college.

Andrew still visited once a week until finally they moved in together.

"You miss her?" It wasn't often they talked about Miel, it still hurt too much, but today, over Chinese take-out, eleven months and five days after the funeral, he decided to talk.

"Of course I do. Desperately." She said quietly, stuffing an egg roll into her mouth, hoping that he would stop this line of conversation. He didn't'.

"How are you feeling?" He inquires, taking her hand.

"I'm living and looking forward to seeing her in heaven, hell, or the next life."