That Good Night

The lights were turned down, and the corridors were empty. John’s steps echoed in the empty space as he slowly made his way down the corridor, stopping at every door to look through the small windows into the dark rooms, making sure the patients were in their beds. The playroom and the prayer/meditation room were empty, as they should be. He noticed faint light coming from a window two doors down. He crept up to the window and peeked in. The boy in the second bed from the window was sitting up, reading a book in the light of the night lamp. John did not want to disturb him, and quietly slipped past. As he made his way down the hallway, he felt uneasy. There was something wrong with the image of the boy that was imprinted on his mind. He checked the rest of the rooms without entering, then turned around and checked the rooms on the other side of the corridor. Everything was quiet. He went back and looked through the window; the boy was still reading. He opened the door carefully. The boy looked up.

“Hey,” John said softly. “You’re still up?” The boy nodded. Closer up, John noticed that there was something moist on his cheeks. He sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding the boy’s bent knees. “What’s up?” he inquired gently. The boy was silent for a minute, and then looked at him with a serious face.

“Are you afraid of dying?” John blinked. His mind raced. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this?

“I suppose so,” he finally said.

“Me too,” the boy said, and there was something like relief in his voice. “I know I shouldn’t be. When I die, I’ll go to heaven and get to see Jesus.” John smiled.

“That’s a nice thought,” he said, and he meant it. The boy narrowed his eyes and studied his face.

“You don’t believe in heaven, do you?” John laughed a little.

“You’re very observant. You’re right, I don’t.”

“So, what do you think happens when you die?” John looked him in the eyes.

“When I die, I’m going to become earth. I’m going to stop living, but everything that was me, is going to become part of this world, sprinkled here and there.”

“And so, you’ll be everywhere?”

“Kind of. I came out of particles that make up this universe, and when I die, I’ll return to the universe.”

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the boy remarked, and John had to smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Mark.”

“That’s a good, biblical name. I’m John.”

“Nice to meet you, John,” the boy said, extending his hand. John shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Mark.”

“I’m going to have an operation tomorrow,” the boy said abruptly. “They’re going to try and fix my heart.”

“I see. Is that why you’ve been thinking of death?”

“Yes,” Mark said, looking at his book. “I was thinking that if they don’t succeed, I’ll get to go to heaven and have no more heart problems. But then I started thinking about how much it might hurt if I die, and what if I’m wrong and I don’t get to go to heaven after all? How will I know? Grandma and Grandpa are there, and I want to see them again.” A sob broke out from his throat, and he buried his face in his sleeve. Without a word, John moved closer, and wrapped his arms around the boy, who began to cry softly.

“It’s okay, Mark,” he said gently. What could he say? He did not want to lie, to give false hopes. “Everything is going to be okay.” That was true, was it not? In the end, everything would be okay. When he or Mark died, they would no longer feel pain, or sorrow, or worry about things – it would all just be blissful nothingness. They sat there for a while, until Mark stopped sobbing and sighed. John lowered his head gently onto the pillow and wiped back the hair from his eyes. He smiled at him, holding back the moistness in his own eyes. “Now, get some sleep. Everything feels better after a good night’s sleep.” He switched off the night light and walked out, closing the door behind him softly, with a last glance at the small figure, who had turned onto his side and seemed to have closed his eyes.

***

The warning siren blasted through the quiet of the little booth. John jumped up and glanced at the monitors. One was reading no heartbeat for patient 2 in Room 105. That was Mark, he realised as he rushed out and down the corridor. As he passed the clock, his mind registered that it was 2 a.m. There were no lights in any of the rooms. He opened the door into Mark’s room – the boy seemed to have pulled the sheet over his head. He switched on the lights and the boy in the other bed groaned. John pulled the sheets back. The sensors lay on a bundled duvet, which he hastily pulled away. Mark was not there. He checked the other bed, but it only contained its normal occupant.

“Mark!” he shouted as he ran over to check the bathroom. It was empty. He grabbed the intercom phone. “Patient missing from Room 105! Mark,” he continued, hastily checking the info on the sheet next to the bed. “Boy, twelve years old, 150 centimetres tall, brown hair, brown eyes. Last seen by me – Nurse Littlewood – in Room 105 an hour ago.” He slammed the intercom down and rushed to the window, and then into the corridor. Other nurses and security guards were arriving. “Check every room, and the common areas,” he instructed them. “The window was locked; he can’t have climbed out.” He went back into the room and looked through the items on Mark’s night table: the book – an adventure story – a photograph of him with his parents, the small cross necklace he had had to take off before the operation. The thought came to John, and he wondered why it had taken so long. He picked up the cross and walked out of the room, across the corridor and back up to the small prayer room. The door was closed, and he opened it softly. A boy was kneeling in front the simple wooden cross on the wall, his back to the door.

“Mark?” John asked gently. The boy did not move. John drew closer. It was Mark – his eyes closed, his head bowed, and his fingers interlocked. John moved to the back of the room, picked up the intercom, and quietly told them he had found Mark. Then he went back and sat down beside Mark.

“Amen,” Mark said softly, and opened his eyes.

“I thought you might be here,” John said. Mark nodded. “You had us worried for a moment.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I guess you just needed to talk to God?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to ask Him if He was really there.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said it’s okay, He’s there.” John smiled. He handed Mark the necklace.

“That’s good. Come on, let’s get you back to bed. Tomorrow’s a big day.” Mark nodded, smiled faintly, and allowed John to lead him back to his room.

***

It was 8 a.m., and his shift was ending, but John lingered near the door of Room 105. The nurses were getting everything ready, and as they opened the door and rolled out the bed, Mark waved faintly to John, his eyes already heavy from the pre-anaesthesia medication. John waved back.

“Have a good night,” he whispered as Mark disappeared from view. “Sweet dreams.”