She realized that Sybil would have to be admitted to hospital before long—this time to the cancer ward of the Greenley Health Centre, the palliative care wing. Complications of care were becoming too much for Sybil’s mother, too much for everyone. Sybil’s mother was in her early eighties. Addie was worn out from helping while holding down her own demanding job. She was worn out from driving back and forth.

Sybil was giving up, breath by breath, what had been, until the past year, her firm grip on life. Her body, once strong and fit, was failing. During today’s visit, Addie had tried to offer comfort, hope. But how could she offer hope when they were both aware of what was happening? Aware of the hopelessness. One of them was on an out-of-control journey toward death. While driving home, Addie cried most of the way. That, too, out of control; the state was called grief. The feeling was despair, a heaviness lodged behind the eyes. Much of the time, she felt as if an invisible mask had been tied in place, holding back the light.

She remembered how she had studied stress and its effects on the body. One of the psych courses she and Sybil had signed up for together was called Health Effects of Stress and Stress Management. They’d also studied Spanish. They wanted to learn an extra language beyond French and English and often took vacations together, so they opted for Spanish.

Addie had no difficulty remembering Sybil’s capacity to abandon herself to helpless laughter. She could also be entirely practical. “C’mon, Addie. Let’s not create stress by anticipating. Let’s not get worked up before something happens. Because maybe nothing will happen. If a problem comes along, we’ll lay out the options and choose a solution.”

Sybil had propped her up when she and Tye separated, and Addie had been grateful to have someone close to talk to. With their give-and-take friendship, neither she nor Sybil had ever had to lie on the couch of a professional.

The stress now, however, was the real thing for both. Addie knew that her stress level could not be placed on the same scale as that of her friend. She also had to look after her own well-being while watching Sybil go down. Otherwise, she’d be of no help to Sybil or her family. Nor would she be able to carry on with her own work. Problem-solving abilities were not useful at the moment.

For weeks, Addie had been helping with the physical care of her friend in Greenley, which meant that she was spending precious little time in her own fifth-floor apartment in Wilna Creek. She cancelled delivery of the Wilna Creek Times because papers were stacking up unread. She had no hope of keeping up with local news, but occasionally she flipped through a city paper left behind in one of the hospital waiting rooms. She began to pay attention to obituaries, and read through these with a deep, knowing sadness while studying photos of the deceased and imagining their lives. She’d recently learned, during a coffee-break conversation, that several of her colleagues carried laminated cards in their wallets with instructions for their own future funerals and those of their partners. The funerals were prepaid, every detail worked out in advance. She sat in astonishment while her colleagues cheerfully compared boxes they’d ticked for various pâtés and specific sandwich fillings for receptions that would not be enjoyed by them. They’d be present, but inside an urn or a casket—also preselected.