Whiff of Spring
Laura Moreno was looking out her kitchen window at the alley behind her building, where the police car had now been replaced for the second night in a row by a police van. Yesterday the lights were on, but tonight the lights were off. What were they doing? Were they expecting a terrorist strike on the postal distribution facility? Drug deliveries? Mail fraud? Fifty feet above her, a flock of starlings was sitting on the roof, also watching the police van.
A mile south, a different flock of starlings was sitting on the hospital roof, looking in the window of the intensive care unit. Angela de la Paz sat next to the hospital bed, reading aloud to her grandmother, who lay moaning softly, uncertain why she was still alive fifteen years after her kidneys had died. Dr. Khalid Mohammad stepped in for the evening check, and Angela stopped reading. "It's OK--you can keep reading." He didn't need to talk to the patient--it was better for her to hear her granddaughter's voice. He checked her vital signs and IV connections, made some notes on the chart, and wondered why she was still alive fifteen years after her kidneys had died. The starlings knew why--it was the girl. The flock flew off to settle in for the night. Angela looked out the window and felt better.
A few miles west, social worker Hue Nguyen hung up the phone, looked out the window, and felt better: her friend the priest had agreed to do an exorcism on Theresa. It would have to be top secret, but the priest had agreed with Hue that it was urgent and necessary.
A couple miles east, the priest hung up the phone. He looked at his diplomas on the wall of his Georgetown University office and could not believe he had really agreed to this. There was no time to go through the proper channels. He had already waited a day, and tomorrow they would have to do it. He did something he had not done in a long time--lit a candle and began praying the rosary.
Nearby, one of the Shackled watched the priest for a few more minutes, then departed to talk to the other Shackled. The snow had melted, the crocus and hyacinth were blooming, and exorcisms were being scheduled all over town.
Deep in the Potomac, Ardua was seething. She hated everything about spring.
A mile south, a different flock of starlings was sitting on the hospital roof, looking in the window of the intensive care unit. Angela de la Paz sat next to the hospital bed, reading aloud to her grandmother, who lay moaning softly, uncertain why she was still alive fifteen years after her kidneys had died. Dr. Khalid Mohammad stepped in for the evening check, and Angela stopped reading. "It's OK--you can keep reading." He didn't need to talk to the patient--it was better for her to hear her granddaughter's voice. He checked her vital signs and IV connections, made some notes on the chart, and wondered why she was still alive fifteen years after her kidneys had died. The starlings knew why--it was the girl. The flock flew off to settle in for the night. Angela looked out the window and felt better.
A few miles west, social worker Hue Nguyen hung up the phone, looked out the window, and felt better: her friend the priest had agreed to do an exorcism on Theresa. It would have to be top secret, but the priest had agreed with Hue that it was urgent and necessary.
A couple miles east, the priest hung up the phone. He looked at his diplomas on the wall of his Georgetown University office and could not believe he had really agreed to this. There was no time to go through the proper channels. He had already waited a day, and tomorrow they would have to do it. He did something he had not done in a long time--lit a candle and began praying the rosary.
Nearby, one of the Shackled watched the priest for a few more minutes, then departed to talk to the other Shackled. The snow had melted, the crocus and hyacinth were blooming, and exorcisms were being scheduled all over town.
Deep in the Potomac, Ardua was seething. She hated everything about spring.
posted by washingtonwaterwoman | 9:36 PM
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