Proof of Heaven by Mary Curran Hackett Page A

wasn’t the one who should be saying sorry to anyone, especially to him.

Chapter 14
    L ater that same afternoon after Colm had woken up from his surgery, his mother and uncle were there waiting for him. Cathleen looked tired, and Colm could tell she had been crying.
    â€œDid I do it again?” He looked at Uncle Sean. But his mother answered him.
    â€œYes, dear. But it wasn’t so bad this time. The pacemaker is already helping.”
    â€œWhere is Dr. Basu?”
    â€œHe had to leave for a bit. He has other patients he needs to see.”
    â€œOh,” Colm said, disappointed.
    â€œAre you feeling OK?” his mother asked while gently rubbing his cheeks.
    â€œI’m tired.”
    â€œI bet you are. Does it hurt?”
    He felt a sharp, heavy pain when he breathed in and his shoulder ached. He reached across his chest and felt the bandages. A tiny, hard disc protruded from his chest wall.
    â€œThis feels funky.”
    â€œI bet it does,” Cathleen said, feeling it for herself.
    â€œDo you think it will work?” Colm pleaded.
    â€œWe already think it does. Your heart stopped beating for a little bit, and the pacemaker seems to be able to rev it up. I think the worst is over,” Cathleen said as she smiled, trying to remain calm for the boy’s sake.
    â€œMama?”
    â€œYes, Colm?”
    â€œI love you.”
    It had felt like forever since he had spoken those words to her. It had only been days, but it dismantled her. She fell apart inside, but she knew he shouldn’t see her cry. She smiled and said it back with a goofy cross-eyed face and grin: “Love you too, Bud.”
    Colm giggled and immediately felt a surge of pain from the movement. He cried out.
    â€œJust rest, kiddo,” Sean said. “We have all day. No rush. The insurance company is even gonna spring for another day. How do you like that? You get another day off of Cut and Paste Land.”
    â€œBut I want to go to school,” Colm argued. He was so sick of hospitals—even school seemed like a better alternative.
    â€œHon, there will be plenty of time for school. Right now you have to get better,” Cathleen assured him.
    Just then the monsignor walked into the room, and catching the last bit of their conversation, he added, “Your mother is right, Colm. Our first order of business is healing you.”
    Sean cringed and snapped back, “ Our, Our, Our first order of business. Who invited you, Padre?”
    â€œExcuse me? Sean?”
    â€œWhy are you even here? Did you come back to give God credit for ‘healing’ my nephew? Did you come to fill my sister’s head up with more nonsense about praying for miracles? Save it.”
    â€œI am sorry, Sean. I don’t know what you mean. What’s this all about?”
    â€œSure you do, Father. Sure,” Sean said disapprovingly and shook his head.
    â€œSean, please. Not now. Not in front of Colm,” Cathleen pleaded.
    â€œNo, I got this guy’s number, Cate. Believe me, I know what he’s all about. He forgets I was almost one of his types—before I wised up,” Sean said while looking at Cathleen, and then he walked over to the monsignor. The monsignor could smell the alcohol coming through Sean’s pores and the acrid smell from his mouth. He must have been sneaking drinks all day, he thought as he braced for Sean’s attack. He had heard about them from his sister.
    â€œDoes it make you feel good, Pops? Does it fill your heart up with love and good shit to know you’re serving God? Do you think that God stopped whatever he was doing to fill your precious heart up with love for him? You think I don’t know? That I don’t get it? What you and your people are all about? Give me a break, old man. Go sell your crazy to someone who buys it. That crazy feeling you get when you pray or think God is talking to you—you know what that is, Monsignor? A chemical reaction