by CS Yelle
“People talking?” Elisa asked.
“Yeah,” I said, thankful they heard it too and wasn’t losing my mind.
“What about it?” Cassie questioned.
“Where is it coming from?” I asked in a daze.
“The next booth, do you want me to tell them to quiet down?” Trish suggested.
“I’ll do it,” Elisa said, jumping to her feet and ducking out of sight to the next booth.
“Wait,” I cried, reaching for her too late.
“Uh, hi, I … thought you were someone else,” Elisa said and then the soft singing reply. I couldn’t make out the words, but the murmuring resonated through the booth.
Elisa slid back into her seat across from me, a stiff smile on her flushed face.
“What’s the matter, who is it?” I asked taking her hands and squeezing them as they rested on the table.
She turned deep red and grimaced, pressing her eyes shut.
“What?” Cassie asked.
Trish and I leaned closer.
“I can say for certain the Parks boy is cute and his sister is gorgeous,” Elisa whispered, her head down.
“How do you know…?” Trish began, but then turned red as well. “They’re in the next booth?”
Elisa nodded. Her eyes sprang open, looking at our hands still clasped in front of her on the table.
We huddled closer, lowering our voices to excited whispers, trying to control ourselves.
“OMG,” Cassie gasped.
Elisa nodded, her face turning even redder, if that were possible.
“What does he look like?” Trish whispered.
“What does she look like?” Cassie added.
Elisa looked at Trish and then Cassie before turning to me. “Golden blonde hair, bright blue eyes, gorgeous,” she whispered. “Kind of like Britt.”
All eyes swung to me as my face got warm. “What?”
“Their hair and eyes look like yours. She’s incredible and he’s quite the hunk.” She grinned as Trish and Cassie giggled.
I stared at Elisa, dazed as thoughts whirled in my mind. Could they be the angels from the river? Here in Grand Rapids?
Chapter 4 I eased myself from the booth, unsure what to say when I saw their faces clearly for the first time. Elisa, Cassie, and Trish looked on, curious. Ignoring their questioning stares, I took a cautious step to the next booth. Empty.
I gazed at the red vinyl seats. The half-eaten pizza still steamed on the serving tray, the drinks fizzed in the glasses; the straws bobbing at the surface hung precariously on the edge. Trish moved up beside me blinking at the empty seats. Cassie and Elisa joined us as we stood staring at the vacant booth.
“They were here a minute ago,” Elisa sighed. “That’s odd.” Trish shook her head.
“Why would they do that?” Cassie added. Our attention turned to the electronic ping of the
restaurant door swinging shut and I raced towards it, the girls at my heels. I stepped out onto the sidewalk as a dark sports car sped past, a wisp of golden hair blowing out the open passenger window the only glimpse of the occupants. The girls pressed up behind me.
“What are you doing?” Trish asked, her face flushed.
“I think I know them,” I answered, watching the car rush into the distance.
“How would you know them?” Cassie asked. “They moved in yesterday and you were in Rochester.”
I saw the doubt in her eyes mirrored in Trish’s and Elisa’s, yet couldn’t explain it. How could they believe me if I found it hard to believe myself?
“Guess I’m wrong.” I shrugged. “I thought I recognized their voices, that’s all.”
Elisa shook her head. “Weird.”
“We should go. I promised Mom not to be too late,” I changed the subject.
They nodded and we went back inside to pay the bill and head home.
I waved as they drove away, my shopping spree bounty sitting in the entry of our house. I closed the door with a sigh.
“Britt?” Dad’s voice came from the living room. “Yeah.” I stuck my head in.
“Everything go okay?” Mom asked, looking up
from her book.
“Fine, but I’m beat. I think I’ll head to bed.” I
walked over, giving Dad a kiss and hug and then reached
over to do the same to Mom. Gathering my shopping
bags I trudged upstairs, piled the bags up on my bed, and
flopped down next to them.
What should I do? I didn’t expect my angels to be
in high school with me. Would they have any classes with
me? If so, what would I say? My heart raced as the stress
of such a meeting played out in my head.
I changed into a big t-shirt, pushed the bags off
the bed and climbed under the covers. A light tap came at
the door just as I reached to turn off my light on the
nightstand. “Come in.”
Mom stuck her head in. “Do you want to come
with me to the hospital tomorrow? I’m going to stop in
and see how the other long-term care patients are doing.” “I’m not a long-term patient anymore, Mom. They
aren’t other long-term patients, just long-term patients,” I
corrected.
“Oh, yeah, right, but I want to visit. They’ve been
so supportive of us and I don’t want them to feel we
forgot about them just because you’re better.”
I stared at her for a moment. The ghosts of
hospital disinfectants and cleaners haunted my nose and
the dull humming and beeping of all the monitoring
equipment filled my ears. I pressed my eyes shut against
the memories, trying to squeeze them out of my head by
pinching my eyelids together. It was the last place I ever
wanted to be again. Then the memories of the people who
took care of me and the other patients who constantly
encouraged me filled my head. Did I want to forget those
times? I became this person because of those experiences.
Did I just want to forget all about it? No, I needed to take
the bad with the good. My head nodded slowly with my
thought, quickening as I came to my conclusion and my
eyes opened to look up at Mom. “Sure, it’s the right thing
to do.”
“Good. Sleep well.” She grinned, closing the door. I smiled and slid down further under the covers.
This was a good thing, but it wouldn’t be easy. I reached
over and switched off the light.
The dream felt so real. I swore I was awake walking along a sidewalk in a park, strangely familiar. The smell of the grass and flowers drifted to me, giving me pause when lilacs made themselves known. Could I smell in my dreams? Approaching a couple on a bench kissing passionately, not paying me any mind, I stopped and stood watching for a while until they noticed my presence. I moved closer to them, saying nothing, the only sound coming from the scuffing of my feet against the pavement. I got close enough to reach out and place a hand on each of their shoulders. Their eyes flew open in surprise, fear spreading across each face as they struggled to move, to run, to escape. I held them fast. They searched my face for answers, but by their confused expressions, they found nothing. I didn’t waiver as screams erupted from their bodies, didn’t loosen my grip. Suddenly, the cries stopped. Eyes stared empty at me, their questions unanswered forever. Wispy vapors flowed up my arms out of each and I finally released my hold leaving empty shells sitting, holding each other for eternity.
I woke panting and soaked with sweat. My arms and legs began to shake from images of a clarity no dream should possess. I angrily rubbed at my nose, trying to wipe away the smell of lilac that assaulted my senses and felt the guilt running through me as the death of these people filled me with regret and sorrow. I never cried out during the drea
m this time, finding it odd, my becoming callous. Or was I just numbed by the dream’s horror? Lying with the covers thrown back, I allowed the air to cool my sweaty body, I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but no other dreams came to me.
The next morning during the drive to the hospital, memories bombarded me. The fear of taking this road and not coming home for months at a time, gripped me tight. I shivered as we pulled up to the brown brick building where I spent what seemed like an eternity, helpless within its walls. We parked in general parking, something foreign to me. My normal point of entrance usually consisted of going through the emergency room after a nasty spell or a reaction to the treatment.
Walking into the long-term care unit, a place few people leave, memories I’d just as soon forget came to mind. I escaped this place; convincing my parents to bring me one last time to the BWCA canoeing. After the trip, my choices would have consisted of either coming back to the hospital or dishing out tons of money for home hospice; something my parents couldn’t afford.
As we walked down the hall, the hum of the lighting reached my ears and the smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils. I noticed a strange glow around people as they passed by. Mom, the nurses, and doctors had a bright glow about them. Some patients we passed in the hall had duller glows. I chocked it up as an illusion from the fluorescent lights. My eyes needed to get used to them again.
I stepped into my old room to see sixteen-year old Jessica, my roommate for two months before the canoe trip, lying in bed. Seeing Jessica I knew the glow came from her, not the lighting. From head to toe she gave off a dull gray light, like a flashlight whose batteries were going dead.
I stopped in the doorway as Mom went in and greeted Jessica’s mom and grandma, sitting in the room. The three women had a bright glow about them. Looking back to Jessica as she turned her head to me, I noticed her glow stayed a dull gray. Moving over next to her, uncertain, I stared at her face, noticing the yellow color creeping into her eyes and skin.
Jessica lay dying of bone cancer and she didn’t have much more time than me. More time than I used to have, I corrected. My gaze wandered from her weak smile down her skinny body as she lay in her gown, the covers cast to one side.
I remembered those hot flashes. One minute cold, bundle up and you still shiver, and the next you’re a furnace and can’t get the layers off fast enough. Sweat beaded on her bald head and she panted a little looking up at me as I searched for the words. Then I saw something I’d never noticed before. The skin on Jessica’s hand and arm nearest me appeared to become translucent and her diseased bones underneath showed clearly.
“What’s wrong Britt?” my Mother asked, turning from the other women as they all focused on me.
“Nothing,” I said tightly.
I looked their way but never really saw them, turning back to Jessica again. Her face pleaded, wanting to end the pain, to end the agony gripping her. Forced to take so much medicine, she could only lie in bed and wait for the end. In those eyes I saw myself only two weeks ago, ready for it to be over, willing to do anything to end it. I stood here now with a second chance. Why couldn’t she get a second chance?
The women turned back to their visiting, paying us no mind.
I don’t know why, but I reached for Jessica’s hand still staring into her eyes. Something surged from deep inside me and pulsed through my arm, my hand, and into her. Jessica’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed an ‘o.’ The pulsing lasted maybe a couple seconds at the most and then vanished. Our eyes never strayed or blinked as we held each other’s hand, oblivious to anyone else in the room; only the two of us mattered. She smiled as she stared up at me and I gave her a wink, somehow knowing, I don’t know how, but knowing, she no longer had cancer. I sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand, exhausted. She pulled me down to her, embracing me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Unable speak, I pulled away, my eyes still locked on hers. Our understanding needed no words.
The women, still involved in their visit, were none the wiser and judging from Jessica’s look, they wouldn’t be. She understood no one could know.
“I need to check on some of the others.” I got to my feet, nearly falling back onto the bed before catching myself.
Somehow I knew what I could do. Felt it. It must have been the angel’s touch. I planned to pass that touch to everyone I could. It took a lot out of me, but I couldn’t let other people die when they didn’t have to.
Gathering my strength, I got to my feet and headed down the hall. A ten year old boy, Billy, lay in his bed with leukemia. He took my hand and the surge from me made him giggle. His parents turned to us with a questioning stare.
“Britt told me a funny joke,” he grinned, looking up at me.
I smiled, giving him a nod and walked out. Outside his room, I paused to catch my breath, leaning heavily against the hand rail along the wall. Taking a deep breath, I straightened and pushed myself forward.
Moving on to a fifty year old dying of pancreatic cancer, her glow the dimmest of all thus far, I placed my hand upon her arm as she lay sleeping. She opened her eyes and turned her head to face me as she felt the healing creep into her. My eyes wandered down her body trying to focus on her cancer. A soft touch brushed my arm and I lifted my head to see the woman, concern stretched across her face, staring at me.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help,” I said and began to look away.
“No,” the woman said, squeezing my arm ever so slightly. “It’s you I’m worried for. You mustn’t exert yourself so much. You look exhausted.”
I stopped, raising a hand to my face and looked to my left at a mirror hanging over a sink. Deep circles under my eyes made the bright blue look dimmer and sunken in their sockets. I took a deep breath and pushed my shoulders back.
“I can do this,” I assured her. My voice cracked, betraying my weakness.
“It’s too much,” the woman argued. “Come back another day when you have rested.”
Taking in the woman’s dimmed glow again I shook my head. “I have to do it now.” I didn’t finish the rest. The woman understood how close she was to the end. She might not last until tomorrow and needed to be healed now. I surged energy into her for the longest of the three. She closed her eyes and let a small moan escape her lips.
When I finished the woman looked up at me, a smile on her lips, but worry showed in her eyes. She made me agree not to try to help anyone else today. “Okay, fine. I’ll stop for the day,” I told her.
She closed her eyes with a contented smile on her face as I slipped out of the room.
Standing in the hallway, the woman’s words of caution hit home. I needed my strength to do this and the dimmer the light, the more strength it required. I couldn’t heal anyone else without resting so I crept down the hallway, exhausted.
Resolve to stick to that plan came easily until I passed the next room and glanced at the bed. The glow shone so dim I gasped. Pushing the door open, I walked over next to the bed. The woman’s breathing came shallow and labored, pulling hard for each breath, a major effort for her failing body. She couldn’t have been more than twenty five, but her body lay beaten and battered. The machines whirred and beeped as a man slept in the corner of the room curled up in a chair.
I concentrated on her broken and bandaged body, the orange glow of internal damage meeting my gaze. Gently taking her hand, cradling it in mine, the warmth of her body felt indiscernible against my skin. As the surge began something inside warned me, told me to pull away and not do this, but the desire to help her pressed hard making it impossible to withdraw as the energy from within me surged forth. My internal urgency to stop railed at me, still I held on, ignoring the pain as it ripped at me trying to break my grasp. Fighting with every bit of strength and stubbornness within me, I held on and wouldn’t let go.
That was when everything began to blur and the edges of my vision turned black
. I staggered and a firm hand caught my elbow and strong arms wrapped around me, holding me up.
“I can’t stop…” I tried to explain.
“You have done what you can,” a soft, deep voice full of understanding and sorrow said.
We turned away from the bed and everything went to black.
I opened my eyes to Mom leaning close as I sat in a chair across from her. Her concerned expression ebbed away as my eyes met hers.
“Britt, you scared me to death,” she sighed, a hand over her heart.
“Sorry, I must have fainted. It’s a bit
overwhelming coming back here,” I explained. “A lot of memories.”
She pulled me into a hug, squeezing too tight as I grunted in her arms.
“I’m fine,” I said, out of breath.
“Do you need anything; a drink of water or something?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I smiled when she let me go and sat back again. “Where are we?”
“In the waiting room. I found you sitting here, unconscious. It nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry about that.” I reached for the water and the plastic glass slipped from my hand as I saw the scar. “Oh, Britt, are you alright?” Mom asked as she bent to pick up the cup and then rush to get some paper towels by the sink.
My eyes widened with shock as I lifted my arm to see the scar from my childhood bicycle accident stretching down my arm. I stared in disbelief at its sudden reappearance. How?
Then it became clear. Pushing too hard had a price. The need to be more careful and selective became apparent. But how could I select which person to save and which person to let die?
“Are you ready to go?” she asked after wiping the floor and dropping the paper towels into the garbage along with the cup.
I wanted to say no, feeling the desire to visit everyone in this wing, but I knew upon seeing them it would be impossible to keep from trying to help them. Knowing I couldn’t do any more today, I nodded.
“Can we say goodbye first?” I asked.
“Sure, if you feel up to it.”
“I do now,” I said getting to my feet.
We walked, holding hands, into Billy’s room. He smiled knowingly at me. His pain now gone.
“Take care, Billy,” I grinned.