“You’re an angel,” I told her, but she just shook her head. “What time is your appointment?”
She looked at the clock. “In three hours.”
“Can we rest?”
She nodded. “Lucian, your wings don’t look good.”
“They’ll heal. I just need to rest.”
She woke me two hours later, and I was surprised to see that my elbow and jaw still had visible lacerations. Maybe healing would take more than rest. Evey put Neosporin on my jaw. I tried to tickle her while she was doing it. “What are you doing?” she said.
“It’s been too long since you’ve smiled. It hurts me when you frown.”
“Really, does it physically hurt, Lucian, because I’m very literal?” She was copying what I had said to her the first night we met.
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I remember everything,” she said.
I had zapped Evey like any other soul I’d watched over in the past, but everything had stayed with her, or it had all come back. Why? Maybe after I was gone, she would remember me and be tormented. Or maybe I’d have to watch her die, and I’d be tormented. And then I realized, that is love. That is life. Brutal and beautiful all in the same.
My body ached as I drove her to the doctor’s office. Once inside, they swept her away to another room to do a mammogram, ultrasound, a biopsy and blood tests, then they told us to come back in two days. The doctor confirmed that there was definitely swollen tissue in Evey’s breast. I was sure something was terribly wrong and that it was my doing. I thought maybe it was the beginning of our time in hell, and that I was responsible.
We went home and slept. We were supposed to be on our honeymoon, but it didn’t feel much like a honeymoon at all.
Surprisingly, the next day, the doctor called us in. She was an older woman, experienced, which should have given us some peace, but she wasn’t warm. Evey and I needed warm. Dr. Smythe was the kind of doctor that didn’t feel the need to smile at everyone all the time. She wore a gray, coifed bun and a pair of bifocals on a chain around her neck. No stethoscope.
She gave us a tight smile when she entered the exam room, and nonchalantly she said, “So you two were just married?”
“Yes, three days ago,” Evey said.
“Do you want kids?” Dr. Smythe asked.
I had known this would happen. Evey had cancer, and the doctor was going to ask about freezing eggs and talk about chemo and send us to an oncologist. This was the end. This was going to be Evey’s life because of me.
“Oh God,” I said.
The doctor looked at Evey and jutted a thumb in my direction. “What’s his deal?”
“He’s nervous,” Evey replied. “I am too. Can you just tell us what’s going on?”
“Well, you don’t have cancer, but you are pregnant. Good all around, I hope. Congratulations.” She beamed, and then the room went black.
I passed out. I just passed out right there on the exam room floor. When the nurse waved smelling salts in my face, my eyes shot open.
Evey was staring down at me from the exam bed, looking worried. “Lucian, what happened?”
“First-time dads sometimes have this reaction,” the nurse answered her.
I stood on shaky legs. “Can you give my wife and me a moment?” I thought it was the first time I had referred to her as my wife to another person. I felt a sense of pride and smiled, even though I still felt like I was going to fall over.
Evey was watching me cautiously. “Wait,” Evey said to the doctor.
My smile faded when the reality sank in. I was an angel; she was a human. I couldn’t get her pregnant. I was paranoid and curious as to whom my wife had been sleeping with.
“What, Evey?” I said rudely. “Why do you want them to wait?”
She jerked her head back, apparently surprised by my tone. Then it occurred to me that I was always with her, so her getting pregnant by someone else without my knowledge would be impossible. I got nervous again. The room started spinning.
