Abraham

As I brought the blanket over Rafe, he reached for my hand, his fingers slightly clammy. He squeezed my hand, his eyes fluttering closed as if he was about to doze off; however, the firmness of his grip indicated he was very much awake. "Don't leave," he muttered.

"I can't stay," I said. "I shouldn't be here."

"I always stayed when you wanted me to stay."

"I don't know who you are. You're a figment of my imagination, a hallucination."

I started to seriously think I was psychotic. I mean, I hadn't seen anyone communicate with Rafe, not even at JP Licks. I ordered the ice-cream on his behalf. Perhaps my nurse, Susan, referred to a different patient when I inquired about him back at the office. After all, I'd never seen anyone talk to him. What if he was still imaginary?

Opening his eyes, he rubbed his thumb against the side of my hand. "I'm not imaginary, Abi."

My throat tightened as I swallowed hard, mesmerized by his captivating, clear blue eyes. Despite the illness brewing inside him, he was absolutely stunning.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"Like what?" I asked, my cheeks burning, a sign I was blushing, giving away my undeniable attraction to him.

"Your face is red."

As tempted as I was to pull my hand away, I kept it in his, my palm as sweaty as his. Afraid to further embarrass myself, I said nothing, my heart pounding wildly. Rafe made things worse, bringing my hand to his lips. He grinned as he kissed the top of my hand.

The unexpected knock on the door startled me, making me jerk my hand away from Rafe. He didn't budge, continuing to keep his eyes on mine. As the knock persisted, my eyes darted around the small room, searching for a hiding place. There was no place to hide.

"Come in," Rafe said as if it wasn't a big deal that I was in the room. Rafe's calm, steady eyes assured me that everything would be okay.

With nowhere to hide, I braced myself, turning to face the door as it opened.

A nun, clad in her traditional gray habit, opened and closed the door.

"Raphael, are you okay?" she asked. With a disapproving sigh, she approached the bed, her gaze lingering on me for a moment before turning to Rafe. She proved to me that Rafe was real and not a figment of my imagination. "You must stop going out on your own. You're not well."

This nun reminded me of someone I'd met before, but I couldn't remember from where.

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say. "Raphael wasn't feeling well and... and... I know I shouldn't be here. I'm leaving now." As I headed to the door, the nun's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Brewer."

For the life of me, I couldn't remember where I'd seen her. Sometimes my memory was mush. My mother always told me I had 'selective memory.'

And then I remembered her. How could I forget her? This woman was the only nun I'd ever treated. She looked much different from the last time I saw her; her face was fuller, her eyes brighter. If I remembered correctly, she had discontinued all treatment after the second round of chemotherapy failed. She chose to focus on quality of life instead of quantity. There was nothing about this woman's appearance that suggested she was close to death.

"Sister Agnes," I said. "Hi. How are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you," she replied. "It's peculiar, isn't it? A few weeks ago I was a dying woman, and now look at me. I've never felt better."

"I suppose miracles happen," I said, even though the scientist in me never believed in miracles. On the outside she looked well, but the only way to confirm her recovery or remission was through a PET scan.

"Yes, I suppose they do," she said, dragging out the words with a sly smile. Her eyes shifted from mine to Rafe's who could barely keep his eyes open.

"Can I ask you something, sister?" I said. I didn't wait for her to respond, proceeding with my question. "Why is a man living in a convent?"

"Because he has nowhere else to go. You'd never believe how he got here."

Curiosity gnawed at me, aching to understand his story, his journey to this place, yet I feared the truth might be too bizarre, too nonsensical for me to bear.

But Sister Agnes needed no encouragement to continue."I thought he came to take me to the Lord, but he said he came here for you. Dr. Brewer, he's an angel, sent from Heaven for you."

I didn't believe in God or angels. I certainly didn't believe in Heaven or Hell. My life was complicated enough without adding all this bullshit to it. I didn't have the time or the energy to deal with insanity, so I decided it would be best for me to focus on being Rafe's oncologist despite his charm and beauty.

"I'm going now. I'll see Raphael on Monday. Will someone be accompanying him?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you for taking care of him."

I intended to say goodbye to Rafe, but he'd fallen asleep. Without another word, I left, leaving the convent the same way Rafe and I entered.

Any minute I'll wake up and realize it's all a dream.

I shoved my hands in my coat pockets, walking briskly to my car. In my car, I clutched the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, frozen still. I'd never been so confused in my entire life.

On my way home, I found myself drawn to the nearby majestic St. Patrick's Cathedral. Parking was a hot commodity in this area, but I lucked out and found a spot in front of the church. At ten o'clock at night, I wasn't sure if the doors would be open, but I figured I'd give it a try. A strange, unseen force drew me inside.

I had no idea what drew me inside in the first place or what I hoped to find.

I never found Catholic Churches particularly inviting. The gaudy, ornate, over-the-top stained glass windows, cathedral ceilings, and wooden pews brought me back to an older time, a time when the Catholic Church made my community feel like morally corrupt, abominable human beings. Some doctrines and denominations still spew that hatred and ignorance, Catholics included.

My footsteps echoed as I wandered around the drafty Church, not a soul in sight, or, at least that's what I thought. As I examined one of the many paintings of Jesus, the faint hum of a vacuum caught my attention. I didn't expect to see a housekeeper working so late. Dressed in a light blue apron and worn out jeans, strands of her ash blond hair broke free from her pony tail. With frustrated sighs and mumbled curses, she wrestled with the electric cord that had become hopelessly tangled around the vacuum cleaner. She nearly tripped over it as it fell to the ground. She was neither young nor old, possibly the same age as me. My mind wandered off, picturing her as a single mother with two jobs, and cleaning this church was one of them. I'd never met this woman, so I had no idea about her life. I didn't know her story, yet I fabricated a story in my mind. The woman's battle with the vacuum cleaner reminded me of myself when I was a kid because I was always getting myself wrapped up in the cord.

"Thank you, doctor," she said while I untangled the vacuum cord. "I'm so clumsy."

"Here you go," I said, returning the vacuum to her. "Have a good night."

But then something struck me. As I turned to leave, I came to an abrupt halt and quickly returned to her. "How did you know I was a doctor?"

I'd never met this woman before. I couldn't deny the fact that nothing had been quite right since Rafe entered (or re-entered) my life.

"It's just a hunch," she said in a not-so-convincing way.

"That's a pretty coincidental hunch. Tell me how you know I'm a doctor."

"I'm afraid you won't find the answers here," she said, avoiding my question. "But if you want to talk to God, they're always listening."

"I don't want to talk to God. I don't even believe in God. To tell you the truth, I don't know why I'm here. I've experienced enough religion for one day.I'm going home before I totally lose my mind. Good night."

"Good night, Doctor Brewer."

Shit...she knows my name, too. Suddenly sick to my stomach, I felt the color drain from my face. I had to get the hell out of there before she disclosed more personal information about me. Masking my fear and unease, I casually walked down the aisle, sensing the housekeeper's eyes on me. My walk turned into a run until I skidded to a stop in front of the massive, heavy cathedral doors.

"Sometimes there are no answers, Abraham! Embrace the unknown without always seeking answers."

Given the situation, I had no choice but to question everything. I deserved answers, or at least a strong antipsychotic medication. I flung the doors open and didn't look back until I got to my car. My heart pounded and my head spun as I got in my car.

As my car idled along the curb, the cathedral door opened and the housekeeper emerged, the vacuum cleaner by her side. For a moment, our eyes met. From where I sat, I couldn't make out the color of her eyes, only their intense, piercing gaze that sent shivers down my spine. It was like she could see into my soul. As she lifted her hand to wave at me, I sped off with a screech.

I took several slow deep breaths, trying to calm myself as I drove home. My body trembled, making it difficult for me to keep my hands on the steering wheel. I almost crashed into a couple of parked cars.

At home, with my nerves still shaking, I poured a glass of wine and opened my laptop to re-examine Rafe's hospital records from the ER. According to the report, someone found him in a snowbank without a coat and in his bare feet. It was unclear how long he had been out there, but he was hypothermic upon arrival to the hospital.

The hospital named Sister Agnes Moran as his emergency contact. There was no other information, not even a social security number. I wondered if his date of birth was real or fake. The report indicated that Rafe was pleasant and cooperative, alert yet confused, disoriented to both time and place. At first, they questioned mental illness, but upon further physical examination, they discovered swollen lymph nodes in his neck and armpits. That's what prompted the CT-scan that ultimately led to me.

Unsatisfied with the hospital report, I slammed my laptop closed, nearly prepared to throw it across the room. Since I didn't want to pay for a new laptop, I got up, taking the bottle of wine with me to the bedroom.

Even if I had close friends, I'd never discuss Rafe, Sister Agnes, the convent, or the strange housekeeper in the church. Maybe the housekeeper was right. Maybe I shouldn't question everything.

But I couldn't help it. How could the cancer-stricken Rafe be the same Rafe I conjured up as a child? Was Rafe actually a guardian angel?

Science and logic told me there were no such things as angels, just like I doubted the existence of God. Faith was a foreign concept to me.

But, right now, I needed a little bit of faith.

Words: 1948

Total Words: 11,340