Even If Saving You Sends Me to Heaven

Zane laid on his hospital bed and watched me curiously as I explained to him why I couldn’t hate him. He smiled slightly, but it wasn’t a happy smile. He said, “Let’s pretend you’re right. Let’s say I’m not as bad as I really am. I’m still dying.”

“You don’t – ” I began.

“I know what you’re trying to say,” he interrupted angrily. “Maybe you’re right, and there is a chance the radiation treatment could work. Well, is it working? Because I don’t feel myself getting any better.”

I examined Zane’s physical state. He’d lost muscle and weight. His skin no longer glowed with youth. He had bags under his eyes, and the healing scar on his head looked gruesome. For the first time, I realized how sick he looked.

“On the outside, you don’t look like you’re getting better,” I admitted grudgingly. “But you also haven’t lost your memory lately. And you never have been hallucinating.”

He shook his head at me. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” I confirmed seriously.

“Fine,” he stated, looking sullen. “What do you suggest I do, then? Lay here and watch TV until the inevitable happens?”

“Definitely not!” I exclaimed. “For one thing, you could actually try to sleep at night. That would give you eight or nine less hours of wallowing. I want to see you eating the three meals they give you a day. This is a hospital, not a prison. You shouldn’t be losing so much weight.” I had to stop to take a deep breath. “You could visit Aaron more often, and maybe make another friend or two. You like that boy, and he likes you. There’s nothing wrong with getting to know him, no matter how many of your morbid thoughts tell you otherwise.”

“Are you done?” he sneered. “You’re not my mother.”

“No, she’s dead. But I’m here, so I think I’ll give you the advice you need,” I snapped. Even as I was saying it, I knew I shouldn’t have let my impatience get the best of me. His pain tore through me and I almost wailed, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. Just make it stop hurting you!”

To my relief, he burst into laughter at my reaction to his pain. “That was weird,” he admitted, getting out of his bed. “At least I know you’re really sorry.” He began walking out of the room.

I would’ve asked where he was going, but his thoughts betrayed him. He was going to see Aaron, like I’d suggested.

I wished I hadn’t suggested it. It was the first time Zane had gone to see Aaron in his room. Though it was the middle of the day, he was sleeping. A woman – obviously his mother – was holding his hand and crying. She turned at the sound of Zane’s footsteps.

Zane froze and mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’ll come back at a better time.”

The woman tried to smile at him. “You must be Zane,” she guessed.

Zane forced a smile back. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, Mrs. …” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t know Aaron’s last name.

“You can just call me Julie,” she told him. “You seem too old to call me Mrs.”

Zane laughed and glanced at me quickly. Julie didn’t seem very old to him. He guessed she was in her early to mid thirties. Her blonde hair was still shiny, and there were few wrinkles around her eyes, which matched Aaron’s.

There was a short, awkward silence in which neither of them really knew what to say. Finally Zane mumbled, “Well, if you could tell Aaron I stopped by, maybe he could come see me when he wakes up.”

Julie’s smile faded. “I’ll tell him, but you may have to come back. He’s not allowed to leave his bed now,” she managed to choke out.

“Oh,” Zane nearly whispered, his stomach sinking. “Is he… Is it getting worse?”

She nodded.

“I promise I’ll come back soon, maybe tomorrow,” Zane said hurriedly. “Or, if he’s feeling better, he can send you to come get me.” She nodded again, and Zane lifted his arm in a strange goodbye wave. “Sorry,” he mumbled before leaving.

He didn’t look at me while he walked back to his room. He sat in his bed and let out a ragged, tired sigh. With his head hung low, he thought about whether or not he wanted to go back to see Aaron. If he did, he wondered how many times he would be able to go before he found a stranger in Aaron’s bed.

“Zane,” I spoke softly.

He didn’t reply, but his thoughts did. He was grateful that with one word, I could slow the pain, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted me to do it.

“Zane,” I said again, cupping his chin in my hand. I pulled it up and forced him to look at me. “You cannot change this. You can’t keep this boy from dying.”

He misunderstood me and stated, “I shouldn’t go back then.”

“Of course you should go back!” I argued. “You can’t keep him from dying, but you can make his last days a little bit better. You owe him at least that. He made you feel better when you were down.”

He knew I was right, but he was still upset and in the mood to argue. “Why do I have a guardian angel, when he needs it more? Why didn’t God give and angel to him instead of me?”

The answer came to my lips without my knowledge. “Maybe God didn’t need to send Aaron and angel. Maybe he sent him you.”

I patted Zane’s cheek before I let him go, but he was still looking at me. I stared back. The wisdom in my words surprised both of us.