Proof of Angels by Mary Curran Hackett Page A

. . forget it . . . forget I ever said anything.”
    â€œNo, what? Tell me. I won’t laugh this time. Promise.” Gaspar crossed his heart, like Colm used to when he was a little boy.
    Cross my heart, Uncle Sean! Sean could almost see him there standing in the room beside Gaspar and making the motions across his heart.
    â€œDo you believe in . . . Aw, shit. Forget it.” Sean meant to shake his head, but couldn’t.
    â€œWhat? After everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve talked about over the years, you can’t ask me something . . . just shoot.”
    â€œI already know the answer, Gaspar. I know that you’re going to think I am nuts.”
    â€œWhat? Just ask already.”
    â€œDo you believe in angels, Doc?”
    â€œAs in the beings with wings? Or like Clarence in It’s a Wonderful Life ?”
    â€œI guess they can come in all shapes, all forms. Some have wings. Some are invisible. Some look like us. Some come to us as light. They’re supposed to be messengers, God’s messengers. They’re supposed to send us messages, signs. I think the Hindus believe in them. I know the Catholics do. Muslims and Jews do, too, I think. But, do you, Gaspar Basu, believe in them?”
    â€œWhy are you asking?”
    â€œI just want to know. Your answer will determine whether I tell you my crazy story or not.”
    â€œI can see where this is going, Sean. So yes, for the purposes of you telling me your crazy story, I believe.”
    â€œNope. That’s not a real answer.”
    â€œSean, it doesn’t matter what I believe. We’ve been through this. You have to trust your own experiences. Everybody has their own, his or her own truth. If they say they’ve seen angels, heaven, their dead son or daughter, their grandmother or best friend, then who am I or anyone else to judge them? They know what they saw, what they felt. Remember your sister? How she was so sure, so absolutely sure she could see your mother? Remember when we were in the hospital in L.A., how she claimed your mother told her Colm would be okay, would live a long life? There was no arguing with Cathleen, no telling her otherwise. We were there, too. We didn’t see anything. But for her it was real. And then there was Colm, back when he was really sick . . . no matter what Cathleen said to him, assured him, no matter what priests told him, he was adamant, he couldn’t see heaven. He hadn’t seen it for himself . . .”
    Sean cut Gaspar off. “I get it, I get it . . .”
    â€œSo you know what I am getting at. Just tell me. Help me understand what happened. What you’re going through.”
    â€œI swear to God, I am not making this up, Gaspar. I wasn’t on any drugs. I wasn’t hallucinating.”
    â€œI believe you.”
    â€œI was sent up into this tinderbox. No one knew about all the combustibles in the basement, all we knew about was the balloon framing, which basically meant that fire could get trapped in the walls. I went up two flights to check to see if there was any damage up there or fire. We all thought the fire was out. On the surface, everything looked good. But still, in structures like those, it is procedure to knock out some walls and make sure no fire is behind them. No one actually thought the fire was up there. But there was an explosion in the basement just as I threw my ax right into a wall. The room filled with fire. The explosion threw me clear across the room. I hit my head. I was out for some time, while the room burned and filled with smoke. When I woke up, I had no idea where I was. I thought I was trapped. There was so much black smoke, I couldn’t see in front of me. The floor was burning right below me. I knew the room was close to the flashover stage. Once that happens—the room is about 1200 degrees. There’s no surviving that. I would have been a Sean barbecued sandwich—for a limited time