↳ Segment 2
Max & Sabrina
It was a coincidence. Chin used to say they take a lot of planning. But Max couldn’t call it anything different. Coincidence.
He was supposed to visit his friend at the hospital. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he ended up in the wrong room. The silent, almost empty room. There was just one patient inside. A young woman. The moment Max’s eyes landed on her, he felt like he couldn’t leave just yet. He just stood at the doorway for a while, observing. It appeared she was in a coma, but no one sat by her side.
The second time he was there, he peeked inside. Still, she was alone. Every time he had the opportunity, Max went to her room but never seemed to find anyone visiting her.
One day he decided to step in. Just to sit there for a while, keep her company.
Max felt so comfortable sitting there with her, and he never intended to say anything, but the words seemed to flow effortlessly once he started to speak. First it was a quiet, tentative, “Um, hello.” Then it became short recounts of his day. Even if she couldn’t respond. He returned even after his friend was discharged. He sat there, day after day, spending a few hours just talking… telling stories… reading to her… He wished he could play for her, but it would be difficult to arrange for a piano in the hospital. So he told her about it. The minor chords and lilting melody resounded in his head as he described his favorite composition, his deft fingers playing an imaginary keyboard on the white sheets, an occasional hum escaping from his lips. Promised to play for her, when she woke up. But she never did.
It took months, but he never had doubts. Never hesitated. He always came back. She was on his mind even when he was at work, or with friends. When he got a ticket for a free helicopter tour, his first thought was whether she would like to go. And then one day he stepped inside her hospital room, particularly excited to tell her about his latest composition, only to find her sitting up. Fully conscious. She turned her head. Those beautiful, sparkling eyes, masked only by a slight puffiness of her eyelids, looked at him for the first time. But she didn’t know him. Didn’t recognize him. Max managed to mumble his apologies, that he found the wrong room. He was trying to leave, fumbling with the door, when she spoke. The soft and slightly hoarse words froze him instantly.
“I know your voice.”
Twitter Masi Oka
Actual Ray of Sunshine, Max Bergman