I was sitting in the garden the day that I found my friend.  That was the first day since my arrival that I had been strong enough to walk down the hallways of the hospital.  Looking up at a cloud, I was trying to distract myself by finding different shapes in it.  In the corner of my vision, I saw someone walking toward me.  I glanced over, and saw that it was a boy a couple years older than me.  He smiled a kind smile and wave at me.  I smiled back.

"Hi," the boy said once he reached me,

"Are you new here?"

"Yeah, I was checked in a couple days ago," I replied.

The boy sat down next to me and smiled again.  “I'm Sammy.”

“Sophie.”

“It's nice to meet you, Sophie.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”  There was a moment of silence as Sammy looked around the garden.  I remember noticing that there was a mischievous look on his face, almost like he was ready to get up and cause trouble as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Turning his attention back to me, Sammy asked, “How are you feeling?  I'm sure being in the hospital wasn't on the top of your to-do list.”

“I'm okay,” I answered shyly, “It's better than I would have thought.”

Sammy's grin turned into a laugh.  “You're lying.  But that's okay.  You can lie to me.”

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, “Are you sick, too?”

“No,” Sammy answered quickly.  He looked up at the sky and pointed at a cloud that was floating right above us.  “What do you see when you look at that?”

Becoming still, I considered all of the possibilities that came to mind when I looked at the shape.  “An elephant,” I responded after a second.

“Me too,” Sammy leaned back on his hands.  A breeze drifted through the small garden, causing the leaves on the small trees to rustle quietly.  I glanced over at Sammy.  His blue eyes matched the deep blue of the sky.  Sammy met my gaze, and the mischievous look returned to his face.  “Did you know that people who see the same shape in a cloud are destined to be best friends?”

A frown crept onto my face.  “Really?” I said skeptically.

“No.”  We both laughed as the cloud began to drift away.  “But, I still think we should be friends.”

A wave of exhaustion swept over me.  “I could use a friend,” I whispered.  Sammy stood up suddenly.  He looked around the garden, and spotted a clump of small flowers.  He walked over to the clump, bent down, and picked one of the flowers.  He looked over at me and laughed at the horrified look on my face.  8 year old, rule-abiding me couldn't believe that he had just taken a flower from a hospital garden. 

Sammy walked back to me, and handed me the flower.  I took it from him after a moment's hesitation.  “Well,” he declared, “now you have a friend.”

I was in the hospital for a few more days before I was released.  During those days, despite the fact that I looked wherever I went, I didn't see Sammy at all.  I put the flower that he gave me rested on my bedside table.  It was a bright orange, and it cheered me up whenever I looked at it.

A couple months later, I was brought back to the hospital.  I had been sick the entire time during those months, but it hadn't been bad enough to stop me from living my normal life.  That changed, though, when, one night, I woke up to a sharp pain bombarding every part of my body.  I cried for my parents.  They took one look at me, exchanged nervous glances, and rushed me to the hospital.

I don't remember much from that day.  I remember nurses poking and prodding me.  I remember doctors coming in and saying large, medical words that I didn't understand.  Mostly, I remember the pain.  That horrible, sharp pain.  I didn't understand what was happening.  I didn't understand why I had to feel this pain; why my body was attacking me the way it was.

At the end of the day, I was in the hospital room, lying on the uncomfortable bed.  I was half-heartedly watching a cartoon, but I couldn't concentrate.  I felt too bad and I was too tired to focus on anything.

I heard the door to my hospital room open.  I turned my head to see Sammy standing in the doorway.  His hair was tousled, as if he had just gotten out of bed.  His dark blue eyes had the same mischievous look that I saw in them the day that we met.

I smiled for the first time that day.  Sammy walked over to my bed and held out his hand.  He was holding an orange flower, the same kind that he had given me a few months earlier.  “Hi, friend!” he beamed.  He gently took my hand and put the flower in it.  I closed my fingers and held onto tightly, as if that small little flower could help me in some way.

“I missed you,” I croaked.  As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that saying that was probably weird.  After all, I had only seen him one time in my entire life.  “Sorry, that was probably stupid of me to say,” I continued.

“No it's not.  I missed you, too,” Sammy declared.  He plopped down in a chair that was resting next to my bed.  “How are you?”

I grimaced, “Not so great.”  A small tear rolled down my face.  Embarrassed, I quickly wiped it away.  Sammy gazed at me sympathetically.

“I'm sorry, Sophie.”

I mumbled, “It's okay.”

Sammy rested his chin on his hands and stared off into space.  The happiness seemed to slip off of his face for a minute.  It was replaced by a seriousness that made him seem much older than he was.  I opened my mouth to ask if something was wrong when, suddenly, Sammy spun toward me, his deep eyes full of determination.

He reached over and clasped my hand.  “I need to tell you something, Sophie.  And I need you to listen.  You need to remember everything I say.  It might sound strange, but I promise, one day, you'll understand.  Okay?”

I swallowed nervously.  “Okay,” I whispered.

“You're going to be very sick for the next few years.  I know the doctors have told you recently that you'll be better soon, but they're wrong.  You're not getting better.  You're getting worse.  But, I need you to stay happy.  I need you to stay hopeful.  You can get through this, Sophie.  I know you can.  Please, believe that.  I will be here whenever you need me, I promise.  And I promise I will help you as much as I can.  That's my job.”  His hand tightened around mine to the point where it was almost painful.

I should have been scared.  And I was, a little.  But not as much as you would think.  I trusted Sammy.  I trusted this strange boy that I had only seen one other time in my life.  Somehow, I knew that he would be there for me.  And if he believed that I would be fine, than I believed that, too.

Sammy stared into my eyes.  “Promise you won't give up.”

“I promise.”

His grip loosened.  “Good.”  A small smile returned to his face.  I grinned back at him.

“So,” he questioned, “tell me about this cartoon you're watching.”

Like Sammy predicted, I didn't get better.  I got worse.  I was in and out of the hospital for the next 5 years.  Those were the most difficult years of my life.  It's hard being sick when you're young.  Everyone else that you know is having fun.  You see them having amazing experiences and then there you are.  Either stuck in a hospital or stuck at home.  You feel too bad to do anything, but doing something is what you want the most.

Despite the fact that there would be months on end when I didn't see Sammy, he always managed to be there for me on my worst days.  We would meet in the garden or in the food court.  We would talk about the simplest things; what the weather was doing, a book he had heard about, a TV show I had seen, and how I was feeling.  That easy conversation is what kept me going.  It was the only time that the sickness wasn't on my mind.  Sammy made me feel normal.  He never treated me like the “sick kid”.  He just treated me like his friend.

The worst day of the sickness was when I was 12.  I had been loosing strength for several weeks, and the doctors couldn't figure out why.  After having test after test done and having nothing help, it was like my body had just decided it was time to give up.  The pain was excruciating.  I remember resting my head on my mother's shoulder and sobbing because I was so tired.  I was tired of feeling bad.  I was tired of hurting.  I was tired of not being able to run around in dizzying circles in the field that I missed so much.

The doctor examined me, and with a frown on his face, gently asked my parents to talk to them in the hall.  My father gave me a pained smile before exiting the room.  I had never seen him look so worried before.  “It's going to be okay, sweetheart,” my mother reassured me as she followed my father.  I could tell that she didn't believe it.

I closed my eyes, trying to think of something besides the pain and the worry.  “Hi, Sophie,” I heard a voice whisper a minute later.  Opening my eyes, I saw Sammy standing over my bed.  He'd gotten taller since the last time I saw him.  He looked tan, like he'd been to the beach.

“Sammy,” I groaned, “I didn't hear you come in.”

“Yeah, I snuck in.  I'm technically not supposed to be in here, so don't mention it to anyone,” he held a finger up to his lips and winked at me.

I tried to smile, but I couldn't quite manage it.  “Okay.  Your secret's safe with me.”

Sammy examined my face as I looked at his dark blue eyes.  They seemed to have some gray in them that day.  They looked like a sky that couldn't make up its mind whether it was going to be sunny or if it was going to storm.

Sammy sighed, “You feel pretty bad, don't you?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed.  I choked back a small sob as I said, “I think I'm dying.  Am I dying, Sammy?”

Sammy's face grew sad.  He shrugged.  “I don't know, Sophie.  I wish I knew.  I wish I could do more to help you.  It's my job to help you.”

“What's dying like?”

“It's not bad.  It's actually kind of peaceful.”

“How do you know?”

A playful look crossed Sammy's face.  “I know about things that you could never even imagine.  Besides, why would you ask me if you didn't think I would know what I'm talking about?”  I couldn't find an answer to that question.

Sammy's brow furrowed as he became serious.  “Look, Sophie, everything's going to be okay.  No matter what happens, it will be okay.  I promise.  But, I want you to try your hardest to live.  Don't give up, okay?  There are people here who need you.  Promise me you won't give up.”

“I promise,” I whispered.  Sammy relaxed.

“Okay.  Close your eyes, get some sleep.  You need it.”

I gladly closed my eyes.  As I drifted off to sleep, Sammy told me about a dream he had the night before.  In the dream, he and I had been dancing on top of clouds together.  He told me about the wind that rushed through our hair.  He described how we looked below us at the houses that looked like toys; he described the warm sunlight that kissed our skin.

I woke up several hours later.  I opened my eyes to see an empty room before me.  The only thing that showed that I hadn't imagined Sammy coming in there was a small, orange flower that rested on the bed beside me.

The sickness finally left when I was 13.  The day that I left the hospital for good was almost exactly a year since Sammy had come into my room and left the flower by my bed.  I hadn't seen him since.

My mother and I were gathering up my stuff from around the hospital room and getting it ready to take home.  “I'm so happy that you're better, sweetheart,” my mother commented as she folded a sweater, “It's been a rough 5 years.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.  After a moment's pause, I added, “I couldn't have gotten through it without Sammy.”

Confusion crossed my mother's face.  “Sammy?” she asked.

“Yeah, my friend, Sammy,” I replied.  My mother gave me a strange look.  “Sammy.  The guy I used to hang out with.  We would sit in the garden and eat lunch together.”

Concern flashed through my mother for a second.  Her shoulders tensed.  “Sweetheart,” she murmured, “there was never a guy sitting with you in the garden.  You were always by yourself.”

“What?  Mom, we hung out a lot over the past years.  You have to have seen him,” I insisted.

“Sophie.  There was no boy.  You were on a lot of medicines.  They probably messed with your head a little bit.”  She walked over to me and put her hand on my shoulder.  “It's all right,” she comforted.

She gathered up her stuff.  “I'm going to go check you out.  Pick that stuff up and come find me once you're done,” she smiled and left the room.

A bitter feeling washed over me.  I knew that I wasn't making this up.  Could medicine have really made me imagine Sammy and all the time we spent together?

I walked over to the bed and picked up the sweater that my mother had folded.  I put it and a few other articles of clothing into a tote bag that I was holding.   "Look at you, Sophie," a familiar voice commented.  I turned around, and Sammy was standing in the doorway.  A pulse of despair flickered through me.  I wasn't on any medicine anymore, so why did I see him?

"You're finally leaving the hospital for good," he continued.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

His brow furrowed.  "What do you mean?"

My voice grew louder and louder, "I just mentioned you to my mother.  She has no idea that you exist.  She said I was always alone in the garden.  She never saw you.  So who are you?  What are you?"

Sammy sighed and took a step toward me.  I took a step back.  “Sophie,” he answered as he ran his hand through his hair, “I am who you always thought I was.  Your friend.  You're not crazy.  And you're not imagining me.  I'm as real as you are.  I can't really explain more than that...you wouldn't understand.”

I should have been scared.  There I was, standing in front of a boy who may or may not have been something I made up.  But I wasn't.  Any fear that I felt faded away at the sound of Sammy's words.  He was my friend.  I knew that.  And, for reasons I didn't understand, I trusted him.  I trusted this boy that I knew nothing about.  I took a step toward him.

“Why are you here, Sammy?” I asked.

“To give you hope,” he smiled.

“Thank you.”

Sammy took another step toward me.  “You're welcome,” he whispered.  He leaned forward and kissed my cheek.  He embraced me and I held on tightly.  I remember he smelled clean, like lemons and soap.

We stepped out of the hug.  “Bye, Sophie,” Sammy grinned before walking out of the room.

“Bye, Sammy.”

I never saw him again.  For years I looked wherever I went.  Sometimes, when I had some free time, I would volunteer at the hospital.  Wandering down the halls, I would have moments where a memory would flash through my mind.  Sammy and I talked about a book there, we laughed at a joke he told me over here, and we sat on that bench and drank in the sunlight together.

I never quite figured out what I thought about Sammy.  I don't know if I believe that he was a ghost, an angel, or just a figment of my hurting heart.  But, whatever he was, I know that he was there to help me.  And I know that he couldn't have done his job better.

I will always look for him.  And, maybe one day, I'll find him, even if it's just in a dream.  Maybe one day, we'll talk about dancing on clouds, bright orange flowers, and I'll be able to thank him for everything he did for me.