The Gift

I was out for a walk, no real destination in mind and found myself on the second floor heading for the playroom at the far end. Just before I reached the second to last room, this huge dressed in black came out of the door to my left and stopped directly in front of me.

The world around me seemed to quiet and still as if time itself had stopped. Looking up, I took in this massive man. He was at least a foot taller than I am, putting him at six-five or six-six. Now, granted I’m only thirteen and a cancer patient and weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, I might not be the best at guessing someone’s weight, but I’d say he had to be two-sixty or more. His clothes were loose but I could see that he wasn’t fat and could make out the slight shapes of muscle here and there.

Still guessing, I’d say he was in his thirties and handsome, but not a hunk. His hair was a light brown and kept short and neat.

I looked into his eyes and let out a small gasp. They were the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen. Not beady like you always hear described in books, but dark black pools.

I noticed he looked directly at me, instead of over me like most people do to see if they can pick out a disease or maybe see something gruesome. This made me shiver a little, like some ice water was dribbled down my back.

With all the ambient hospital sounds gone, his voice was low but clear. “Ahh, it’s about time we met, Amanda.”

“How… how do you know my name?” I managed to stammer.

“That my dear, isn’t really isn’t important. Maybe I overheard it, maybe it was magic. What is important, however, is that you have been given a gift. You are a special little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I blurted out.

H made a mollifying gesture and replied, “I’m sorry, you are correct. I should have said, ‘You are a special young woman.’ As I said, you have a gift, but you might not see it the same way.”

“And what gift is that?” I asked skeptically.

He didn’t seem to be a perv, and while he could be intimidating due to his size, he seemed to radiate calm. “I will tell you your gift – both the positive and negative. It will be up to you as to whether or not you will use it.

“You have been in and out of this place,” he said sweeping this hand around him, “for several years. I can tell you with a certainty that at your current rate of decline, you will be in and out for several more years. As things stand now, I’m sorry to say you will not see your eighteenth birthday. How close you make it is up to you.”

“How is that?”

“By the use of your gift. You see, everyone has a certain time on this world. Most of the time, that time is fixed. When it’s your time, well, time’s up and game over. But sometimes, someone comes along with a gift such as yours.”

I was getting impatient. “As you pointed out, my time is limited, so can you get to the point a little faster?”

He smiled slightly. Not the reaction I was expecting.

“Impatient as ever I see,” he said with a little flourish. “As you wish. You have the ability to transfer some of your time left here to others, who’s time is, well, nearly up. Once they are gone, you cannot extend their time, however.

“Realize though, that I did say, ‘transfer.’ As in, the time is removed from your existing time and given to that person. You can use this gift to bequeath your time… or not. Your time left here is yours to do with as you see fit.

He was quiet and watched me as I thought about what he told me. After a minute I asked, “How much time?”

“Very good question,” he replied with a smile. “I had expected disbelief. To answer your question, it varies from one person to the next. I can however tell you it’s between one hour and one day. Well, twenty-four hours to be exact. You lose exactly what you give.”

“And if I don’t give any time?”

“Then you don’t. You’re not required to, and no one is obviously going to expect you to. No one knows about this but you, and I think you should keep it to yourself.”

“And if I tell people about it?” I watched his smile fade a bit.

“That’s up to you, but I’d advise you to think about it very had before you do. What good would it accomplish? What harm could it do? To you or to others? Would others even believe you or would they think it’s just a child’s fantasy?”

I was about to remind him that I wasn’t a child, or little, when he stopped me by holding up a finger. “Before you correct me, I didn’t call you a child, I was merely pointing out how others might view such a story.”

Figuring it was easier to believe him, I asked, “Okay, say I believe you. How do I know who to use it on, and how do I use this… gift?”

“Both are simple. If someone needs time, you will feel an urge – a drawing to that person, if you will. It’s a gentle feeling, nothing overpowering as there might be several people around you in need, and no one wants you overburdened. And since it’s optional, making it more would be unfair to you.

“This is a gift, to give as you see fit, not to guilt you into giving it out. As to how, that is also easy. Simply make physical contact with the person and then think about giving that person your gift of time. It will happen automatically.

“I do have to warn you however, it will leave you feeling drained for a short time afterwards. You will regain your strength, such as it is, shortly thereafter.” He frowned slightly saying the last of that.

“That’s it?” I asked and he nodded. “Okay, when does it begin?”

“It began as soon as you agreed to it,” he said with all seriousness.

“But I never agreed to it, really,” I claimed, knowing that wasn’t actually the truth.

He studied me for a minute before speaking again. “If you really feel that way,” he said, “then you need never use it… ever. Who knows, you might have a change of heart.”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks at being caught in my lie. I’m usually pale but thought I might almost look normal for a change with the added color. I began to smile at the thought and stopped when I saw a glimmer of amusement in the man’s eyes.

“Since you know my name, tell me yours,” I said to him bluntly.

I watched him think this over for a second, then answer, “Lucas.”

I put my hand out and said, “Nice to meet you Lucas.”

He didn’t hesitate to reach out and take my hand. Most people do, thinking they will break us if they touch us, or catch whatever it is we have. They pause to consider their actions first.

His had was huge and it swallowed mine as he gripped my hand softly. I remember later thinking how soft his hand felt and how gently his touch was. There was something else there too that I can only describe as a low voltage tingle, which gave me goosebumps.

He released my hand and I had to stop myself from reaching out for him. Something in his touch made me feel, well, healthy again.

He said something I didn’t hear as I was focused on restraining myself from acting like a fool and grabbed his hand again. I watched helplessly as he raised his hand. He put his fingers under my chin my chin with his thumb on the dimple in my chin and tipped my head up to look at his face again.

The skin to skin contact brought back the feeling of wellness and cleared my head. Looking into his eyes again, I blinked and he started talking again.

“It was my pleasure finally meeting you, but I have to go. My time here is limited, just like yours.”

“Do you visit here often?” I asked.

“Too much for my liking,” he replied.

“Them maybe we’ll see each other again.”

“I can guarantee it, although I can’t say when.”

“What do I do if I need help with my gift?” I asked, trying to prolong his touch.

“If you truly need my assistance, just call me.”

“I don’t have my cellphone here. You can’t use them in the hospital.”

He chuckled and said, “No need for a phone. Just use these,” and he brushed his thumb across my lips slightly. “I’ll hear you.”

“Now, Phillip is at a crossroad. He will soon need one of us, and my time is nearly gone, so it’s up to you.”

With that, he released me and pointed to the room he had just exited. As I turned to look, I realized that the sounds of the hospital were starting to return – the beeps of monitors and pumps, the squeaking of shoes on the floor.

I turned back to Lucas only to find that he was no longer there. I turned in a circle to look to see if he had gone around me as I turned to where he pointed, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

With so much activity going on in the hospital, I couldn’t believe that no one had walked by us during our conversation, as several people walked past me as I stood here just now. I asked myself what had just happened. Or did it really happen at all? I didn’t want to believe something was causing me to hallucinate. There was enough going on in my life that I didn’t need to worry about something like that.

As I stood there, I felt a strange sensation, like a gentle tugging on a string that had been tied to me. It was nothing overwhelming, just enough to get my attention. And it was coming from the room Lucas had pointed to.

I took a few steps over to the door, pulling my trusty side-kick, the IV pole, with me and looked in. A boy lay in the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. Not seeing anything else in the room, I walked in closer to his bed. I stood there watching him and his monitor for a few minutes and everything seemed to continue along without change.

Hearing a noise behind me, I turned to see a nurse behind me, who had just walked in.

She looked up from the papers in her hand and said, “Oh! I didn’t realize anyone was in here. You come to say goodbye to him?”

It was obvious I was a patient and she assumed I knew the boy. “I don’t really know him,” I told her.

“Oh, well you can keep him company until his parents arrive if you want. They should be here soon.” She didn’t wait for a reply but went about her business.

I just stood there watching this boy Phillip for a lack of anything else to do. The nurse moved around the room, writing notes in his chart, and straightening up as she went. As she finished up, she said, “Okay, will young Phillip here isn’t much of a conversationalist, but he’s an excellent listener.”

She walked out of the room, leaving the two of us alone again. I walked over to a chair and say down facing Phillip, looking at him. He was young, about six I guessed, with a short stubble of blond hair. This told me he’d been through chemo or radiation treatments not too long ago and his hair was just starting to grow back. He was pale and frail looking, as were most cancer kids.

I’m not sure how long I sat there looking at him, watching him, waiting. I think I fell asleep because the next thing I knew, monitors were beeping and frantically screeching their electronic alarms.

The same nurse from before came rushing in, ignoring me in the chair, and went over to Phillip, first checking wires, then checking him with a stethoscope for what I presumed were sounds of a heartbeat and breathing.

I can only assume she found, or rather didn’t find, what she was looking for as she reached up and pushed the bower button on the monitor, turning it off. She turned off his IV pump and walked out of the room.

The tug I felt was no longer there, and I realized that it was because Phillip was now dead. Lucas had said once your time was up, that was it.

I sat there in shock for, well, I don’t know how long, but it was finally broken by several people entering the room. The first was a doctor obviously, dressed in scrubs and a lab coat. The other two must have been his parents, as the woman was sobbing and had her head buried in the man’s chest. He was also crying as she stroked his wife’s hair.

The doctor went over to the boy and did the same thing the nurse did, checking him for any activity with his stethoscope. He made a note on a pad and went back over to the couple. “I’m very sorry there wasn’t more we could have done Mister and Misses Macky.

The woman let out a sob and wailed, “Why? Why wouldn’t traffic have been better? Why couldn’t we have left an hour earlier?” She stopped her outcries and broke down crying again.

It was then that it hit me. I could have given him more time – time for his family to arrive in to say goodbye. I started crying as well. This was my fault.

The doctor noticed me finally and came over. He put a hand on my arm and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I’m guessing Phillip was your friend and I don’t want to be rude, but we should both leave and let his parents have their time alone. Where’s your room?”

Still crying, I pointed up and held up three fingers. He understood and said, “I’ll be right back,” and walked off. Returning with a wheelchair which he put next to me at a 90-degree angle, he gently picked me up, pivoted and set me down in the wheelchair with the ease of years of practice. He pushed my trusty pole between my knees and lifted one of my hands and put it on the cold steel saying, “You know the routine I’m afraid.”

I did.

Still crying, one hand over my eyes, the other holding my IV, the doctor pushed me to the door and said to the parents, “I’ll give you some time alone. I’ll be back after dropping her off, or you can go to the nurse’s station if you need anything before that.”

He paused for a few seconds to make sure they heard him, then continued out the door, pushing me in the chair. As we got to the nurse’s station (I presume, my eyes were still covered), he stopped momentarily and said, “T.O.D. was 7:03 a.m. for room twelve,” then continued on.

I knew T.O.D. stood for time of death.

We stopped and the bell signaling an elevator arrived dinged, and I was pushed forward. Even though I was still crying I held tight to my pole, as even subconsciously I knew if it got stuck in the gap between the floor and the elevator and fell, it would most likely result in my having to have another central line put in.

I felt us go up and come to a stop as the familiar ding announced that we had arrived. Again I held tight as we backed out of the elevator. Normally I would have been turned around in the elevator if space permitted, but I guess the doctor opted not to since I wasn’t paying much attention to anything other than my own grief.

We walked a few feet before stopping again. The doctor said, “I was told she belongs here.”

“Oh my. What happened?” I heard another voice say. It was Nurse Julie.

“She was visiting someone on two when he passed,” the doctor replied.

“Oh no! I’ve got her from here, doctor,” said the nurse.

“Okay, page me if anything comes up. Let her doctor know what happened.”

I heard footsteps moving away, then more approaching and I started moving again, while nurse Julie started talking to me. “Oh Mandy, I’m so sorry. Let’s get you back to bed. Dinner should be here soon.”

I couldn’t tell her I didn’t feel like eating.

She wheeled me back to my room and got me back in bed. Once settled, she said, “It’s hard, but you’ll be okay.”

“And how exactly will I EVER be okay?” I spat out vehemently. Watching her I could see she was taken aback by my anger.

She straightened up, opening, and closing her mouth like a fish several times, trying to decide what to say to me to correct the situation.

I felt abashed at my anger towards her. We continued to look at each other for several moments before I broke the silence.

“I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean it like that. I was wrong to get mad at you for trying to make me feel better.”

She smiled as if nothing had happened and said, “Don’t worry about it sweetie. You just get some rest.” She kissed me on the cheek and left the room.

I waited until I was sure she was gone and then whispered, “Lucas, please come talk to me. It’s important – to me.” I wasn’t sure if this qualified as important to him and if he did show up, how long would it take him.

Sighing, I realized that it was crazy to expect him to show up just by whispering his name. I closed my eyes and just lay there when I realized that once again the normal sounds of the hospital disappeared. Slowly I opened my eyes to look around. Sitting in the chair next to my bed was Lucas.

He smiled kindly and said, “What can I do for you?”

“What the hell kind of mean trick did you play on me?” I fumed.

Saying nothing, he continued to look at me, so I continued. “You said I wouldn’t feel guilt. That boy died in front of me.”

“I’m sorry for that, truly. However, I didn’t say you wouldn’t feel guilt, I said no one could guilt you into using your gift. I know you think it’s the same, but it isn’t. If you follow the pull to a person, you make the choice to donate your time or not. If you choose not to, you should simply leave. That, or not go at all. Keep in mind these people are going to die regardless. Do not think your gift will save them. And to help them, you hurt yourself.”

“But it’s heartless of me not to help,” I whined.

“Is it? Let’s do some quick math. You could give 1800 people an extra day and you yourself will be dead within a month. Or, you can help a few people here and there, and live another five years. Well, almost. Is it selfish to live one’s own life? We’re not talking about donating money or labor. You will be donating part of your life. You have to decide how much and when.

I just shook my head. It wasn’t fair. Some gift this was. “One last question,” I said. “Who – no, what are you?”

He chuckled. “If all the things you could ask, you pick that? Are you sure you want the answer?”

I nodded my head in reply.

“Very well, I shall answer you. I am the Angel of Mercy, the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper, better known as simply, Death. Is that what you expected?”

I shrugged and replied, “I dunno. I’m not sure what I expected actually. So you are evil?”

“That is a second question,” he said and winked at me. ’You said you only had one question.”

I sighed and said, “Oh well.”

He chuckled again and told me, “No my little one, I’m not evil in the way you mean. Think of me as an equalizer, a balance keeper of sorts. Just like your gift, which you must balance. The good of others or the good of yourself? That is for you to decide. Me? I balance life and death. Everyone dies at some point, and it’s up to me to decide when a person had tipped their balance.”

He stood up and said, “Dinner is here. Eat up, you need your strength.” With that he ran the back of his fingers across my cheek and my eyes closed. I heard some footsteps in my room and opened my eyes to see a nurse’s aide bringing in a tray of food. With all that had just gone on, I didn’t think I ’d feel like eating, but I found that I was famished and wolfed down my food.