Proof of Angels by Mary Curran Hackett Page B

for ninety-nine cents, come and get it! There was a point when I just knew I was a goner.”
    â€œSean, Sean, Sean,” Gaspar repeated like a mantra and closed his eyes, imagining the horror. The could have been .
    â€œSo I said a prayer. Promised myself a long time ago that if I ever found myself in a similar predicament I wouldn’t bea hypocrite and declare my devotion to our lord and savior and all that crap, but I did. I said a damned prayer. Promised God or whoever was listening, angels, saints, my dead mom and dad, whoever, I’d be a better man if I got out of there, and just like that, this angel appears from out of nowhere. She was so bright, and it felt so real, and I followed her and just as I got to the window, she disappeared. She got me out of there. I got to the window and I just jumped. A second after I did, the room flashed over and the entire floor gave way. The house exploded behind me. If it weren’t for that angel, I’d be, I’d be . . .”
    â€œDead,” Gaspar finished, tight-lipped and with a nod.
    â€œYes. I’d be dead. But I am not. And I can’t help but wonder why. And I can’t exactly go around telling people that an angel saved me. Or that I have some divine purpose now, some reason to be alive today. I can’t very well do that. Not now, not after all the bullshit I put my sister through telling her she was crazy all those years she went searching for miracles to save Colm . . .”
    â€œSean, I understand. I do. But it could be a lot of things . . .”
    â€œYes, that’s what I want to hear. I need to hear some common sense. I need some sort of scientific reason. Tell me one, Gaspar. Please, because I feel like I am losing my mind.”
    â€œWell, for one, you said the angel led you to a window. Are you sure the sun wasn’t coming through the window? That it wasn’t some sort of aberration? Some trick of your eyes? An optical illusion?”
    â€œNo, I am sure it wasn’t. It was black as night. The window was covered in smoke. Next try . . .”
    â€œYou said you were unconscious at some point? Did I hearthat correctly? You lost your way? Your head injury could have caused you to hallucinate. You could have been dreaming or suffering from oxygen deprivation. It could have been a stroke of good luck—that you happened to see a person—but actually you were already on your way in the right direction for the window.”
    Sean smiled. He liked hearing Gaspar try to reason away the unfathomable. There was a secret thrill in it. And Gaspar was so good at making the irrational so banal. But there was a part of him he wasn’t going to reveal to Gaspar. I saw her before, Gaspar. I saw this angel of light before .
    â€œAnd then there is the most obvious reason for why you didn’t see an angel . . .”
    â€œOh? What’s that?” Sean asked.
    â€œWell, if an angel was going to go through all the trouble to save you . . . why stop there? Why stop at the window? You were three stories up. Why didn’t she just carry you to the ground safely?”
    Sean let out a loud laugh and slapped his own leg. “Ouch!” he said, realizing again that his hands still hurt and so did his legs. “Yeah, it was just some sort of illusion. I know. Thanks, Doc. You’re right. It’s all a bunch of nonsense.”
    â€œNow, now, that’s not what I am saying. You asked me for logical reasons. I gave you some. But the illogical can’t be ignored either. It is illogical that you’re even here today talking to me. All of my textbooks, all of my experience in medicine tells me that you should be dead. So there is something there. There is space for the irrational. Always.”
    â€œSo you think there’s a chance that all of this—me being here—isn’t just some fluke? That there is a reason bigger thanme? That maybe I have a second chance for a