Rage of Angels

“No!” The walls were closing in on her, choking her. She could not breathe. “Is there a place where I can pray?”

It was a small chapel with a painting of Jesus over the altar. The room was deserted except for Jennifer. She knelt, but she was unable to pray. She was not a religious person; why would God listen to her now? She tried to quiet her mind so that she could talk to God, but her fear was too strong; it had taken complete possession of her. She kept berating herself mercilessly. If I only hadn’t taken Joshua to Acapulco, she thought…If I hadn’t let him go water skiing…If I hadn’t trusted that Mexican doctor…If. If. If. She made bargains with God. Make him well again and I’ll do anything you ask of me.

She denied God. If there was a God, would he do this to a child who had never harmed anyone? What kind of God lets innocent children die?

Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, Jennifer’s thoughts slowed and she remembered what Dr. Morris had said. He’s young and his body seems strong. There’s every reason to hope the operation will be a success.

Everything was going to be all right. Of course it was. When this was over, she would take Joshua away someplace where he could rest. Acapulco, if he liked. They would read and play games and talk…

When finally Jennifer was too exhausted to think any longer, she slumped into a seat, her mind a dazed blank, empty. Someone was touching her arm and she looked up and Dr. Morris was standing over her. Jennifer looked into his face and had no need to ask any questions.

She lost consciousness.

50

Joshua lay on a narrow metal table, his body eternally still. He looked as though he were peacefully asleep, his handsome young face filled with secret, far-off dreams. Jennifer had seen that expression a thousand times as Joshua had snuggled into his warm bed while Jennifer had sat at his side, studying the face of her young son, filled with a love that was so strong it choked her. And how many times had she gently tucked his blanket around him to protect him from the cold of the night?

Now the cold was deep inside Joshua’s body. He would never be warm again. Those bright eyes would never open again and look at her, and she would never see the smile on his lips, or hear his voice, or feel his small, strong arms around her. He was naked beneath the sheet.

Jennifer said to the doctor, “I want you to cover him with a blanket. He’ll be cold.”

“He can’t—” and Dr. Morris looked into Jennifer’s eyes and what he saw there made him say, “Yes, of course, Mrs. Parker,” and he turned to the nurse and said, “Get a blanket.”

There were half a dozen people in the room, most of them in white uniforms and they all seemed to be talking to Jennifer, but she could not hear what they were saying. It was as though she were in a bell jar, shut off from the rest of them. She could see their lips moving, but there was no sound. She wanted to yell at them to go away, but she was afraid of frightening Joshua. Someone was shaking her arm and the spell was broken and the room was suddenly filled with a roar of sound, and everyone seemed to be talking at once.

Dr. Morris was saying, “…necessary to perform an autopsy.”

Jennifer said quietly, “If you touch my son again, I’ll kill you.”

And she smiled at everyone around her because she did not want them to become angry with Joshua.

A nurse was trying to persuade Jennifer to leave the room, but she shook her head. “I can’t leave him alone. Someone might turn out the lights. Joshua is afraid of the dark.”

Someone squeezed her arm and Jennifer felt the prick of a needle, and a moment later a feeling of great warmth and peace engulfed her, and she slept.

When Jennifer awakened, it was late afternoon. She was in a small room in the hospital and someone had undressed her and clothed her in a hospital gown. She rose to her feet and dressed and went looking for Dr. Morris. She was supernaturally calm.

Dr. Morris said, “We’ll make all the funeral arrangements for you, Mrs. Parker. You won’t have to—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Very well.” He hesitated, embarrassed. “About the autopsy, I know you didn’t mean what you said this morning. I—”

“You’re wrong.”

During the next two days, Jennifer went through all the rituals of death. She went to a local undertaker and made the funeral arrangements. She selected a white casket with a satin lining. She was self-possessed and dry-eyed and, later, when she tried to think about it, she had no recollection of any of it. It was as though someone else had taken over her body and mind and was acting for her. She was in a state of deep shock, hiding behind its protective shell to keep from going insane.

As Jennifer was leaving the undertaker’s office, he said, “If there are any special clothes you would like your son buried in, Mrs. Parker, you can have them brought in and we’ll dress him.”

“I’ll dress Joshua myself.”

He looked at her in surprise. “If you wish, of course, but—” He watched her leave, wondering if she knew what it was like to dress a corpse.

Jennifer drove home, pulled the car into the driveway and entered the house.

Mrs. Mackey was in the kitchen, her eyes red, her face twisted with grief. “Oh, Mrs. Parker! I can’t believe—”

Jennifer neither saw nor heard her. She moved past Mrs. Mackey and walked upstairs into Joshua’s room. It was exactly the same. Nothing had changed, except that the room was empty. Joshua’s books and games and baseball and skiing equipment were all there, waiting for him. Jennifer stood in the doorway, staring at the room, trying to remember why she had come there. Oh, yes. Clothes for Joshua. She walked over to the closet. There was a dark blue suit she had bought for him on his last birthday. Joshua had worn it the evening she had taken him to dinner at Lutèce. She remembered that evening vividly. Joshua had looked so grown up and Jennifer had thought with a pang, One day he’ll be sitting here with the girl he’s going to marry. That day would never come now. There would be no growing up. No girl. No life.