Proof of Heaven (15 page)

“I'm sorry, M-m-m-mama. I'm sorry I said anything.”

“Colm, you told the truth. I wouldn't expect you to do anything different,” Cathleen said coolly, collecting herself.

“You always told me to tell the truth,” Colm reminded her.

“Yes, I suppose I wish you'd just told me the truth sooner . . .”

Cathleen stopped herself from telling the lie. She knew even if she had known Colm didn't believe in God, she would have brought him here; she would have tried anything to save him.

“I know,” Colm assured her. “I was afraid to hurt you. I was afraid you would be m-m-mad at me. I could tell that you wanted to b-b-b-believe and I didn't want to change that.”

“Colm, you are so, so, so . . .”

The words kept failing Cathleen. She wanted to say
wise
, but it seemed much more than wisdom. Everything Colm said seemed to come straight from his heart. She stopped talking, walked back to the bed, and hugged him.

Colm inhaled the smell of her hair and patted her back. “It's going to be all right, Mama.”

Cathleen pulled Colm closer and kissed his forehead again. “I know it will be. I just know it.”

“Is everything all right in here?” They heard Dr. Basu's soft voice in the doorway. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No, Dr. Basu. Please come in. I'm glad you're here. Did you reach Sean?”

“Yes, he'll be there tomorrow. He sends his best. He's anxious to see you.”

“Thank you. I hope he shows up.”

“I am sure he will.”

“Colm was just filling me in on some of your heart-to-heart talks, Dr. Basu.”

“Is that right?”

“I t-t-told her the truth, Dr. Basu. She knows now.”

“I see.” Dr. Basu looked at Cathleen and dropped his head and walked toward the chair by the window to sit down.

Cathleen followed him. “Why didn't you tell me this, Dr. Basu,” she asked like a petulant teenager.

“Patient-doctor confidentiality.”

“I am his mother!” She sat down beside him, then leaned in over him, pleading with him.

“But he asked me not to tell—as his friend. It didn't affect his treatment.”

“M-m-mama, don't be m-m-mad at him. He's my friend. He just wanted to help me.”

Cathleen looked at Colm and back at Dr. Basu. Both of them loved her. She could see this now. They were trying to protect her. All of this, she realized—the trip, the exhaustion, even the collapse—was her fault. She felt instantly guilty.

“I am so sorry, Dr. Basu. I didn't mean to blame you.”

“It's quite all right. You have every right to be upset.”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for pushing all of this on you two. I just wanted so badly to believe. To hope.” She dropped her head in her hands and wept.

Dr. Basu bent over her and wrapped his arms around her. “It's quite all right. There is still more we can do.”

“Please don't cry. I didn't m-m-m-mean to m-m-make you cry,” Colm pleaded.

“Yes. You're right. I'm being silly, Colm. I'm just tired. And yes, I'm grateful he has you, Doctor,” Cathleen said, taking Dr. Basu's hand. “Now let's all get some rest. I'm so tired.” Cathleen leaned her head on Dr. Basu's shoulder.

Dr. Basu was surprised and let her lean in to him. She seemed heavy, exhausted by the weight of the enormous truth.

Colm looked at Dr. Basu and smiled. He was glad his mother had a friend. Dr. Basu winked back at him in quiet assurance.

“Yes, let's just take a little snooze until they're ready to discharge you. It's just procedure. They can't do so until all the tests come back. You know how it goes . . .”

“I know the drill, Doc,” Colm said, sounding like his uncle.

Before Dr. Basu closed his eyes, he smiled and said, “Sweet dreams, son. You need your rest, too.”

But Colm didn't sleep. He sat and watched the scene in front of him—his mother leaning on his friend Dr. Basu's shoulder—and he whispered aloud to his father, who he wished with all his broken heart was sitting beside him now, “Dad, this is my favorite part of the movie.”

It seems only yesterday I used to believe

there was nothing under my skin but light.

If you cut me I could shine.

—Billy Collins, “On Turning Ten”

C
rossing the bridge was the easy part. Staying on the other side was a different story. Although Sean vowed he would never drink again and would start attending meetings, he quickly realized it was more than he could handle on his own. On the evening he met his sister, Colm, and Dr. Basu at the airport, he looked like hell. He was sober, Cathleen could tell, but he smelled like the inside of a Starbucks that had caught on fire.

“Geez, Sean,” Cathleen said, hugging him. “Kentucky and Colombia called; they want their tobacco and coffee back.”

“I know. I went back to the smokes today.”

Dr. Basu frowned.

“Don't give me that look, Doc. I picked a new poison is all. This one won't get me fired. And I can drive while doin' it.” He winked back. “Let me help you with those bags,” said Sean as he grabbed them out of his sister's and the doctor's hands.

“Thank you,” Dr. Basu said. Sean knew, though, he wasn't thanking him for carrying the bags. It was a different thank-you altogether.

“You're welcome,” Sean said, smiling.

“Cathleen, it's a step in the right direction.” Dr. Basu leaned over and whispered to assure her, even though he was worried too. He saw it many times. Former alcoholics who quit drinking only to pick up another habit that would eventually kill them too in the long run.

“OK, kids. A buddy lent me his big-ass car, so I can drop you all off. Thought that would be easier on Colm than waiting on the sidewalk for a cab,” Sean said, leading them toward the parking garage.

“Thanks, Sean,” Cathleen said, surprised again by his new transformation.

“I'll drop you two off first, Cathleen, so you can get Colm to bed. Then I'll take Dr. Basu uptown—assuming you live . . .”

“Yes, the Upper West Side. Riverside, but if it's too far out of the way . . .”

“Don't be silly. I'd be happy to.”

After Sean and Dr. Basu carried Cathleen's and Colm's bags into her apartment, and got Colm settled in his bed, Cathleen offered to make them a late dinner.

“No, I really must be going,” Dr. Basu declined. “You both need your rest.”

“I'll take the doc home—maybe out for a beer.”

“Sean!”

“Settle down, Sis. The beer's for him. For him. I'll have a coffee.”

Cathleen kissed her brother good-bye on the cheek at the door. “Sean, thank you so much. Thank you—for everything. I'm so sorry for the past few months. If you need anything, anything, I'll be here to help.”

“Same goes for you, too.”

“Stop by tomorrow and we'll talk.”

“Gotta work. But I'll take you and Colm out after church on Sunday,” Sean said, turning away.

“Wait! No. Could you do me a favor?”

“Say the word.”

“I'll fill you in later, but would you mind taking Colm somewhere else on Sunday?”

“Huh? Why? What's up?”

“I can't explain it all now. But I think it would mean a lot to him if he could just pass on the whole church thing for a while. Church is what I want, but it's not what he wants right now . . .”

“Got it. I'll meet you at St. Pat's then—I'll take him out for breakfast.”

“Wonderful.”

“Sis?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm proud of you. I know this is hard. All of this sucks. I know that. But you're a hell of a person.”

“Thanks, Sean. So are you.”

“Save it. I know my bag. It's filled with shit right now.”

“Sean, please . . .”

“Seriously, Cate. Save that line for when you mean it. When I deserve to hear it. I've been a jerk for a long time . . .”

Cathleen could tell he had already been to a meeting today; he was ticking off his twelve steps in speed-round style,
making amends.

“All right. Thanks for taking Dr. Basu home then.”

“I'll try to get home in one piece.”

In the car on the way uptown, Sean wasted no time getting to his point.

“Doc?”

“Sean?”

“You know what we talked about yesterday . . . on the phone?”

“About Colm?”

“Yes. No. Not exactly . . .”

“Your drinking?”

“You got it. I think I'm in a little over my head with this sober stuff. AA meetings aren't cutting it. I feel real sick today. I don't want to worry Cate. She's got enough going on, and I want to be there to help her. I saw Colm today. He looks bad, real bad. To me anyway. I don't think Cathleen can see it. I think she refuses to accept that he's not going to get better. I have to be there for her. For them. I know that. And I know I have to quit drinking. I
know
. To be honest, the guys at work have been riding me pretty hard. Even threatened to suspend me. I didn't want to worry Cate with all that. But I know I gotta do something. Something.”

“There are treatment centers, Sean.”

“I know. I did my twenty-eight days . . . a long time ago.”

“And?”

“Twenty-eight days isn't enough. But I can't just leave Cate and Colm hanging right now. I gotta get help soon . . . and there is this other thing. I think I effed up my esophagus. I've been puking up blood for a while . . . and I think I need a doctor.”

“Sean, you certainly do. But I'm not the doctor for you. You probably destroyed your stomach lining. It's probably just gastritis, but you need to go to a specialist to get it looked at in case it's something worse. There are doctors that can help you. There are support groups. There are lots of things you can do. I'll give you a name of a doctor at Good Sam—and a group that meets there. A friend of mine runs it. And whenever you go to the hospital, feel free to stop by and see me, too. Or you can call me anytime . . . as a friend. I'd be happy to help.”

“Dr. Basu, you're a good man. Thanks for doing all this—for my sister and my nephew and me. To be honest, I don't even know why you do it. But I don't even care. I'm just glad you're here.”

“Thank you, Sean. I am quite fond of Colm and . . .”

“Cate?” Sean asked, smiling and winking.

“Yes, she's a very strong, bright, and beau . . .” Dr. Basu stopped himself.

“Yup.” Sean nodded and laughed a bit. “That's Cate in a nutshell.”

Dr. Basu blushed.

“It's all right, don't be embarrassed. I am so glad she has you. If you had any idea, any real idea how lonely she's been . . .” Sean shook his head and trailed off. He didn't want to betray his sister or undercut her. “I'm just glad she has somebody like you.”

“Thank you, Sean.”

“Hey, Dr. Basu?”

“Gaspar. Call me Gaspar.”

“Gaspar, what are you doing Sunday?”

“Nothing. As far as work is concerned, I'm technically still in Italy.”

“Do you want to join Colm and me for some breakfast and afterward hit the Natural History Museum with him and Cate?”

“Why, yes, that would be nice.”

After pulling up outside Dr. Basu's building, Sean leaped out of the car and grabbed the doctor's bags. Handing them to him, he said, “See you outside St. Pat's, across from the Rock, around ten or so.”

“All right then. I'll be there.”

Though Sean was the one who initiated Dr. Basu's accompanying them on their family outings, it was Colm who asked him to join them whenever the doctor's schedule would allow.

On their first visit to the Natural History Museum, Dr. Basu explained the Earth's elliptical orbit as they all walked through a special exhibit on their way to the planetarium. Dr. Basu explained to Colm how almost every planetary system had a sun. A center. A source. And how every cell in the human body reflected that order. And how all around the world, the entire universe, there was evidence of the same. “Energy begins from a single powerful source, Colm. Even your body is made up of tiny little solar systems. Millions of cosmos. Thousands of invisible stars. Bursts of electricity that keep your heart beating. Your blood pumping. Your brain working. It's one of the great mysteries. The source of life.”

Cathleen nodded and smiled and almost opened her mouth to say something about God—and how he made light out of the darkness. But something stopped her. She couldn't say it, especially in front of Colm, who she could tell had found a kindred spirit.

Colm was dazzled by the good doctor. As the doctor spoke, Colm imagined his body built out of stars, all of them glowing from within.

Sean didn't say anything. He just listened and thought of how it all worked the other way around too. He thought of the fires he fought, how a small spark from a frayed wire or a cigarette left unattended had the power to take down an entire building, consume a life—maybe two—an entire family. Or how a spark of religious fervor could explode within two buildings and take three thousand lives. Sean shook it off and he walked, listened, and watched as Dr. Basu taught the boy, his sister, and him about life—living it. Even if there was no known source, no known reason why.

After their first visit to the museum together, Colm told his mother that he couldn't imagine
not
asking the doctor to join them ever again. “He's
amazing,
Mama.” Gaspar was part of them now. Part of their little universe. He was trapped in their elliptical orbit, and there was no escaping it.

Cathleen enjoyed being with the doctor just as much as Colm did, but she didn't know how to go back to their moment on the roof under the stars. Still, she kept that moment close to her heart, and she was much more kind to the doctor from that point on. Cathleen never mentioned it to the doctor, and he, ashamed to have taken her from her son that evening, never mentioned it either, so afraid to bring up a sore subject. Instead, he thought of it often, but only privately. Cathleen thought of it every day. She kept the doctor, his son, and his poor dead wife in her prayers every night; and she even lit candles for them at church and remembered them at Grace time. He had become, even when he wasn't around, a part of them. He was, besides her son and brother, the only constant in her life. He was the only one who both believed her son's godless version of the afterlife and at the same time, like her, wanted him to be miraculously healed. He didn't seem to care if religion or medicine was responsible for the cure; he only wanted Colm to be better and for her to finally be at peace. She loved him totally for it.

She didn't need a reason why.