Chapter four

The rain…the great equalizer….the bitter, salty tears of the Virgin Mary glaring upon us from her almighty Heaven throne. The rain judged nobody, fell right when it had to, be it his receiver man or woman, strong or weak, perfect or just special. Like an angel's boat the clouds formed heavily around the institution, as if trying to protect the innocent souls that dwelled there. I was pushed on a wheel chair to the doorway by Lane, unable to move my feet from the electric shocks I had received the previous day. The little Lolita, the sunshine Lae never left my side and cared for me with a level of kindness and affection that surpassed any doctor or nurse. As we entered the garden, Lane smiled and handed me a black umbrella, then ran outside, throwing her head back and sprawling her hands, seemingly an effort to embrace the misty sky.

"I told ya it would rain, didn't I?" she shouted, spinning around under the clear water, raindrops gathering in her hair and dress like twinkling stars on a warm summer evening. I gave her a weak nod, continuing my thoughts.

The rain was so pure, with a goodness unseen in any human being. It would be cast upon us unexpectedly to wash away all the dirt, all of our rotting sins, then sink deep within the ground, as if feeling the shame of our own misbehavior, only to be reborn, as clean and loveable as before.

"Come on, Lae, you'll catch a cold like that." I shouted and Lane quickly ran towards my side, turned me around and pushed me back inside the hospital.

In my room I spent most of the day, drifted from this sick imitation of life that surrounded me, alone with my thoughts. Standing by the window, the smooth breeze carelessly caressing my sides and hair, I was instinctively reminiscing of the dove that had sang to me not so long ago, at this very same window, she soothed me with her beautiful melody of tears, warming up my heart in a flame of its free song, strong, unseen, yet gentle and lovely. It was dawn, and at that moment I was feeling thankful that the rain had stopped; I always enjoyed viewing the ever-teasing sunset, tempting me with its unbound embrace, calling to me, like an angel to a prayer.

I moved away from the window meekly, only to hear a sweet voice of a child, calling me with its own tragic song:

"Everything's so blurry
And everyone's so fake
And everybody's empty
And everything is so messed up
Pre-occupied without you
I cannot live at all
My whole world surrounds you
I stumble then I crawl"

That voice, with the same edgy bloodhungry rough charm, now calm, peaceful and serene.

"You could be my someone
You could be my sea
You know that I'll protect you
From all of the obscene
I wonder what you're doing
Imagine where you are
There's oceans in between us
But that's not very far"

As I rolled myself away into the last flashes of light the sleeping sun was casting upon us, I recognized her right away.

"Can you take it all away?
Can you take it all away?
When ya shoved it in my face?
This pain you gave to me
Can you take it all away?
Can you take it all away?
When ya shoved it in my face?"

It was Lane in her long white dress, bare feet and hair freely sprawled behind her head, as if to protect her from my preying, monstrous eyes. She walked in the garden and picked flowers, as in her other hand was a big wreath. The flowers needenth worry, each and every bloom that was touched by those long white fingers soon found a place in this botanic crown, while its little princess went on in a quieter, much bitterer tone:

"Everyone is changing
There's no one left that's real
So make up your own ending
And let me know just how you feel
'Cause I am lost without you
I cannot live at all
My whole world surrounds you
I stumble then I crawl"

I leaned in the barbed window and with the corner of her big sphere like eye she noticed me. I hurried to move away and closed the window shut, but in a few moments two pebbles hit my only key to this world, the window's glass, scratching it a bit, but not braking it. I chuckled at myself and showed my face once more, only to get an even warmer greeting:

"Hey! I'll come up in a minute, ok?" she shouted and I nodded my head, not wanting to gain more attention that needed; people from the other rooms were starting to look.

True to her word, Lane came in my room, cheerful as ever, with a small black backpack on one shoulder and a charming, yet somewhat melancholic smile on her pale face.

"Hey, John-joy, how's my boy?" she asked, then placed her beloved creation, the wreath, in my lap. I examined it carefully; every flower complemented the other in a fashion that gave out the impersonation of a rich, heavily decorated crown of gold and diamonds. Like a puzzle, it was weaved so carefully that even the smallest stroke of grass fitted in its place perfectly. Lane threw herself at my feet and went on, taking much pride in her work:

"I made it for you. I know, it's probably junk, but to me it's always been a time-waster."

"It's beautiful, Lae, thanks." I placed the flowers on the drawer beside my bed, while the young female visitor opened her backpack and took out several items-CD's, a mp3 player, small mobile phone and a few books, before banging her fist to her hand and holing up a pack of cards with triumph well shown in the shining abyss that were her eyes.

"Look what I've got. Wanna hear your fortune told by a pro?"

"I don't believe in such things, Lane, I mean those are just cards." I tried to reason with her, but couldn't help but succumb to her perky nature; plus, to be honest, the days of my recent life went by in complete boredom, if anything, having a future told wouldn't cause me any harm.

I hardly felt I had a future to see, but me and my guest didn't seem to share that opinion. She arranged the cards on the top of my bed and remained a thoughtful gaze as she flipped them open, one by one; the scene was so petty, but it brought certain coziness into the evening, like toddlers playing by the campfire with sticks and rocks, but in their eyes, guns and soldiers. I moved my wheel chair closer, as the little Lolita seemed deeply entertained by what she was seeing.

"In the past, I see a great deal of nightlife, money, love…see, this is you." She pointed at a Jack of diamonds "And I see…a path you have turned your back to, an angel's calling for you…"

"Did it sing outside my window today?" Lane smiled softly at me and shook her head slowly:

"It's not me, I'm not in your past….I'm in your present…" she pointed to the second row of cards and continued "I see a bird in a golden cage and a hand, feeding it, ever so closely."

"That'd be you." I held her hand in mine and kissed the top of it softly, while she went on to my future:

"I see bright days lie ahead for you, John…I see an angel, a beautiful angel, taking you under her wing and bringing life back into your being."

"You're my angel now." I assured her, holding her cold phantom-like palm into my two rough ones, carefully and almost shyly trying to warm it up. She took a glance at the cards and shook her head with unexplainable sadness:

"That won't be me, John…"

I had grown to feel affection for the kid, warm, kind sensations grounded on our mutual feelings of need. In this golden cage, she was my only light and air, the cold hand that fed me the dose of life I needed before going completely insane, the same hand I'd give my body and soul to warm up and protect. My new sister and mother, too childish were our feelings of love to even be considered a sweetheart or lover, but, there they were, the blossoming emotions growing inside of us, bonding us with the thin, silver line of the stars, who prayed that our fondness will live on as one of their forever-told stories.

I'm starting to sound a lot like her, actually…

We talked all night about the most unorthodox things, sharing tales and swapping stories of both life and fiction. Lane spoke with such a passion, her sides for once color kissed and her movements graceful, mimics revealing her soul through two trembling hands.

She told me stars never sleep, but merely observe the human race from high above and recorded every person's story, every adventure, so that when you die and become an angel you could still re-live those moments high in the mysterious, everlasting sky.

Lane shared some of the music she liked with me, claiming it had saved her life when she first entered this institution. While we listened to those depressing tunes, I couldn't help but discover how beautiful in fact sadness was. How much sweeter is a glass of white wine when served with tears, a few heavenly drops down someone's drawn cheeks, cleansing your soul's never ending painful cry…how much tasteful is a meal made by your own two hands, the same hands that were burned in the cooking fire, bruised and cut by the meet knife, the hands that had inside of them both sorrow and strength, maybe even a hint of joy….how much more beautiful was the sunrise after an all night rain, stepping on freshly grown moist grass, observing and inhaling the scenery….yes, sorrow was beautiful.

As I prepared for the night, Lane helped off my wheel chair and onto my bed, then kindly stood by me with the music turned on, singing with me and hearing some of my best wrestling stories.

"I was lying down, just had received a Pedigree from Triple H, so I'm out for good. Hunt's right on top of me, and he goes for the pin, but then Orton kicks him over the head and wins, regaining his title as WWE champion." I went on with a strange maschohistic enthusiasm, feeling both burdened by reminiscing all those sweet memories that I knew were in a whole different world now and at the same time, rejoiced at re-living them one more time. Lane seemed fairly interested, she knew very little about World Wide Entertainment, but had heard about some of the legends in the business, like The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin.

"There's a TV in the cafeteria, why don't you watch a match sometime?" my companion suggested and a shadow of envy flashed over my already disfigured and frightening face.

"I don't think I could take it…" I denied quietly, yet with a hint of softness "But you can check it out, it's fun. Say, how's Jill going?"

"She's under observation in one of the white rooms." Lane murmured heavily, covering me up with a blanket "She'll be fine…and so will you. Remember, there's an angel out there, looking for you."

I sighed and breathed in the sweet air that came from the garden when the windows were opened wide, then shifted my gaze on the flowers beside me:

"I've found her."

"Do you think…" Lane gazed at the stars dreamingly, in a trance, as the wind played with her hair, making it resemble sun-burned autumn brown leaves, dancing in the air and softly caressing it, like an old-time friend. "Do you think that one day I can fly like the dove that gave you comfort?"

"I'm sure you can do anything you want to." I replied, hardly feeling anything but the heavy weight of the tiredness and the shameless need to sleep another lovely night away. Lane stood by my window for a moment, completely silent and still, only the sound of her dress touching the walls, hissing at them as if they were made out of needles and were scarring the pretty silk fabric, raping it out of its charm and purity, making it feel out of place in this whole situation. In a moment, Lane gave out a deep sigh and closed the windows, then turned to me with her usual smile:

"If you have trouble sleeping, listen to some music, it always works for me."

"I'd rather you sing me something. I can sing along too, but I think my drugs are kicking in so I'm a little slow at the moment…" she ruffled my hair and sang quietly:

"You could be my someone
You could be my sea
You know that I will save you
From all of the unclean
I wonder what you're doing
I wonder where you are
There's oceans in between us
But that's not very far…"