Александра Адорнетто - Halo

I couldn’t see Alice anywhere, so I spent the next half hour feeding a woman named Dora, who sat in a wheelchair with a multicolored crocheted afghan over her knees. She sat slumped with her mouth slack and her eyes drooping. Her skin was sallow and her hands were liver spotted. On her face, a network of broken capillaries showed through the paper-thin skin. I wasn’t sure what constituted “breakfast” at Fairhaven, but it looked like a pile of pale yellow sludge to me. I knew that some residents ate pureed meals to avoid the risk of choking.

“What is this?” I asked Helen.

“Scrambled eggs,” she said before moving off with the cart.

One elderly gentleman tried to take a spoonful of food, but his hands were so jittery, he ended up spilling it down his front. In an instant Gabriel was at his side. “I’ll get it,” he said, patting away the spilled food with a paper towel. Molly was so engrossed in watching him that she forgot to feed her charge who sat openmouthed and waiting.

After I’d finished helping Dora, I moved on to Mabel, who had the reputation of being the most truculent resident at Fairhaven. She pushed away the spoon I offered her and pressed her mouth shut firmly.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about Mabel,” said Helen. “She’s waiting for Gabriel. If he’s here she won’t accept food from anyone else.”

“Okay,” I said. “I haven’t seen Alice today. Where is she?”

“She’s been moved to a private room,” Helen replied. “I’m afraid she’s deteriorated since you last saw her. Her eyesight’s failing and she’s getting over a pulmonary infection. Her room’s just down the hall—first door on the right. I’m sure that seeing you will do her a world of good.” Why hadn’t Gabriel and Ivy told me? Had I been so engrossed in my own world that they’d concluded I wouldn’t care? I made my way down the hall to Alice’s room with a rising sense of dread.

Phantom had beaten me to it and was already there, keeping vigil in the hall. When I opened the door and we both went in, I almost didn’t recognize the woman in the bed. She was nothing like the Alice of my memory. Illness had ravaged her face and transformed her. Her body looked as fragile as a bird’s and her flimsy hair was uncombed. The colorful cardigans were gone and she was dressed in a plain white gown.

She didn’t open her eyes when I said her name, but she did stretch out her hand toward me. Phantom pushed his nose into it before I could take it.

“Is that you, Phantom?” said Alice in a hoarse voice.

“It’s Phantom and Bethany,” I replied. “We’ve come to visit.”

“Bethany . . . ,” she repeated. “How good of you to come. I’ve missed you.” Her eyes were still shut as though the effort of opening them was too great.

“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Is there something I can get you?”

“No, dear, I have everything I need.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t come for a while. It’s just that . . .” I didn’t know what explanation to give for my negligent behavior.

“I know,” she said. “Life gets in the way. No need for apologies. You’re here now and that’s what’s important. I hope Phantom has been behaving.”

Phantom let out a short bark upon hearing his name.

“He’s the perfect companion.”

“Good boy,” said Alice.

“What’s all this I hear about you being sick?” I asked brightly. “We’ll have to get you back on your feet!”

“I’m not sure I want to get back on my feet. I think it might be time. . . .”

“Don’t say that,” I said. “You just need some rest and . . .”

Alice’s head suddenly rolled forward and her eyes flew open. They didn’t focus on anything but rather stared wildly into space. “I know who you are,” she croaked.

“That’s good,” I replied, feeling a knot of alarm in my chest. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me.”

“You’ve come to take me,” she said. “Not yet but soon.”

“Where are we going?” I asked. I didn’t want to accept what she was telling me.

“To Heaven,” she replied. “I can’t see your face, Bethany, but I can see your light.”

I stared at her, speechless.

“You will show me the way, won’t you?” she said.

I touched her wrist and felt for her pulse. It was like a candle burned almost to the wick. I knew that I couldn’t let my attachment to her stop me from doing my job. I closed my eyes and recalled the entity I had been in the Kingdom: a guide, a mentor for souls in transition. My domain had been to comfort the souls of children as they passed through.

“When the time comes you won’t be alone.”

“I’m a little frightened. Tell me, Bethany, will there be darkness?”

“No, Alice, only light.”

“What about my sins? I haven’t always been a model citizen, you know,” she said, a hint of her old feisty self emerging.

“The Father I know is all forgiving.”

“And will I see my loved ones again?”

“You will enter a much larger family. You will be as one with all the creatures of this world and beyond it.”

Alice sank back on her pillows, looking satisfied but tired. Her eyelids fluttered.

“You should try to sleep now,” I said.

I closed my fingers around her frail hand, and Phantom laid his head against her arm.

Together we watched over her until she slept.

On the drive home I was still thinking about Alice and what she’d said. Watching death from above was sad, but actually experiencing it on earth was heart wrenching. It was an intense pain for which there could be no remedy. I felt a sharp stab of guilt for letting myself become so fixated by my love for Xavier that I’d shirked my other responsibilities. Heaven had approved our relationship, for the time being, at least, and I must not allow it to be all consuming. At the same time, I wanted nothing more than to find him and breathe in his comforting scent. No other person I knew could make me feel so alive.

News reached us the next morning that Alice had passed away in her sleep. It didn’t come as a surprise to me. I’d woken in the night to the sound of rain lashing at my window and when

I’d slipped out of bed to close the curtains, Alice’s spirit had been hovering outside. She was smiling and seemed utterly at peace. Alice had lived a full and enriching life and was ready to move on. The loss would be felt most by her family, who hadn’t made the best of the time they’d shared together. They didn’t know it yet, but one day they would be given a second chance.

I felt her spirit as it passed out of this world, buzzing with nervous anticipation. She was no longer afraid, only excited to see what lay beyond. I reached out to her in my mind in a final gesture of farewell.

Only Human

The day of Alice’s funeral was overcast. The sky was pewter, and the ground was damp from the light drizzle that had fallen overnight. There were only a handful of mourners, including staff members from Fairhaven and Father Mel who performed the service. Her gravesite was on a grassy knoll under an acorn tree, and I thought how she would have chuckled that her final resting place had a view.

Alice’s passing stirred something in me. It brought my attention back to the purpose of our mission, and I decided to up my hours of community service. It was a very small gesture in the grand scheme of things, and I felt almost silly suggesting it, seeing as our purpose was to save the earth from the fallen and their forces of darkness. But it made me feel more like I was contributing to our cause and focusing on what was important. Often Xavier came with me. His family had been doing volunteer work for the church for years, so it was nothing new to him.