The Fallen

One morning the angel didn’t come.

He would always wake her just before daybreak.  He would lift her gently from the hospital bed, spread his great, feathery grey wings, and fly her far from cold rooms and sterile halls.  With greatest care, he would bathe her in cool starlight until the fire in her bones ebbed, and then he would hold her weakened body to him until sweet dawn filled her veins with rose-gold warmth.  Sometimes the angel would sing, and in his song she could hear the light of the morning star; then she knew she would be healed.

This was the first morning since her fall that Raphi had woken alone.  Dawn had already colored the sky and was even beginning to fade, her blush giving way to lavender and faintest blue.  There were no stars to be seen.

She hurt.

She pressed a button and a nurse came in.  “Good morning,” the nurse paused briefly, glancing at something, then smiled as only those in pediatrics can and continued, “Raphaela.  Today’s the day—are you excited?”

“Where’s my angel?”

The nurse took one look at Raphi’s expression and began looking all around the small room, looking beneath the bed and patting down the sheets.  “Angel?  Is that the toy we gave you?”

“No.  He comes in every morning to take me away.”  Raphi watched as the nurse straightened slowly and looked at her again.  The smile didn’t change, but the rest of the nurse’s face pulled inward in confusion.

“Raphaela, what are you talking about?”

“My angel.  Where is he?” she repeated resolutely.

The nurse backed towards the exit.  “Let me go check in with the doctor,” she said, still smiling, although her eyebrows were creased interestingly.

“Check in with me about what?”  The doctor craned his neck over the nurse’s shoulder, his face tired, but pleasant.  It was much more pleasant to look at than the nurse’s squished-in face, anyway.  He stepped aside, adjusting his glasses.  “From what I hear, she’s ready to go home.”

The nurse turned to him, shielding her mouth with her clipboard and whispering loudly, as if she thought Raphi couldn’t hear her.  “Dr. Milton, she said an angel comes in and ‘takes her away’ every morning.  She was supposed to be released today, but if she’s hallucinating—”

“Don’t be silly, Gabby,” Dr. Milton said at a normal volume.  “Lots of patients have spiritual revelations after a near-death experience.  If Raphaela says she saw an angel, then we should take her word for it.”  When the nurse didn’t look convinced, he added, “All her tests yesterday were normal.  Gabrielle, she’s fine,” he finished more firmly.

After a moment, the nurse backed down.  “If you say so, Doctor.”

“If you’d like, I could run another set,” he said as a peace offering.

“No, Dr. Milton, I trust you.  You’re usually right about this sort of thing,” she replied, smiling a bit more normally.  “Do you need me for anything?”

“No, Gabby, thank you.”  After she left the room, Dr. Milton sat down at the edge of the bed.  “So, Raphi, what’s this I hear about an angel?”

“He didn’t come today.  He makes me better, but he didn’t come.  Why didn’t he come?” Raphi asked, clutching the sheets tightly.  “It still hurts so bad.  Why didn’t he come back and help me?”

Dr. Milton watched her, patting her hand gently when she began to tear up.  “Raphi.  Raphi, look at me.”  When she did, he continued in his calm, melodic voice, “A long time ago, I fell, too.  I fell a very, very long way.  I couldn’t get up for a very long time.”  He checked to make sure she was paying attention.  Her eyes were still wet and she was biting her lip, but she wasn’t crying, and she was still looking at him.

“Some of my friends helped me at first, but the pain wouldn’t go away, and I still couldn’t get back up.  I started thinking, ‘Why isn’t anyone fixing me?  Don’t they care enough?’  I became very lonely, even though everyone was doing the best that they could.

“Then, one day, I met a young boy who had lost his parents.  Even though I couldn’t go very far, I agreed to search with him, and we eventually found them.

“It was then,” he said, smiling faintly and far more handsomely than the nurse had, “that I realized I felt a little better.  Do you know why?”

Raphi thought about it and shook her head.  There was nothing in his story she could think of that would help make her feel better.

“Because I helped someone.”

He waited a moment, letting the words sit in the air.  When she failed to give any sign of comprehension, he continued, “When we’re hurt, we only think about ourselves and our pain.  It’s not that we’re selfish—it’s just very hard not to when we can’t walk away from ourselves.”

She nodded slowly.  She didn’t quite get it, but she understood what it was like not to be able to walk.

“It’s helping others that helps us move past that.  When we try to help solve someone else’s problems, ours become less serious.  Helping heals, if it’s sincere.”

Raphi thought about it again.  Sometimes the angel had seemed sad, but he would always look at her and smile and flap his big grey wings.  “Is that why the angel helped me?”

“Perhaps.  But I think it’s because he truly cared.  That’s why I became a doctor—to heal others first, and myself second.”

“Then I helped the angel?”

Dr. Milton smiled again.  “I’m sure you did.  And I’m sure he’ll be even happier when you make a complete recovery.”  He looked up as the nurse knocked and entered again, and then stood as Raphi’s parents came in.  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael.  Raphaela’s ready to go home now.”

Mrs. Carmichael rushed to Raphi, while Mr. Carmichael shook the doctor’s hand emphatically.  “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for our daughter, Dr. Milton.”

“It was my pleasure, Mr. Carmichael.  And please, call me Luke.”  Dr. Milton let go of Mr. Carmichael’s hand and went over to Raphi.  “She’ll do just fine, I think.  She’ll be walking again in no time, right, Raphi?”  She nodded solemnly and he returned a nod of his own.  “Take care.”  He turned to go.

Raphi reached out and grabbed the back of his lab coat, and he turned.  “Hmm?”

She let go slowly.  “Take care, too, Dr. Milton.”  She looked at him, hoping he understood what she meant.

He smiled warmly.  “I will.  Good-bye, Raphaela.”  He left the room, letting the Carmichaels gather their daughter from the hospital bed.

Raphi didn’t listen as her father won the right to push her wheelchair from the nurse.  She simply opened her fist in her lap, smiling at the soft gray feather she had plucked from the back of Dr. Milton’s coat.