The next morning, Rodney’s mom stopped by her son’s hospital room on her way to work in the imaging center. “Dad sends his love,” she said while sitting herself down on the edge of Rodney’s bed.

Rodney groaned awake and turned to face his mother. “Dad and you were just here last night. This is no big deal, Mom.” He hadn’t told his mom about his geisterseherkraft last night and he was wondering whether he should break the news to her this morning.

“I know, honey. But we’re your parents. It’s our job to worry over you, so get used to it.”

Now was not the time to tell her about his newfound vision. Even Rodney was smart enough to pick up on that.

“K. Hey, Mom, do you ever feel like you should do a good deed, but then don’t do it?”

“Well, yes, actually. All the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. For instance, I should call your grandmother more often. And take more pictures of you. And bring our elderly neighbors dinner more often. You know, the Jacksons? They aren’t in the best health and I know they appreciate it. I just get busy and let these things slide. I’m not proud of it.”

“Well, I kinda had the feeling that God wanted me to say something to a lady in your waiting room yesterday. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t want her to think I was a nut.”

“Oh honey, I understand that you’re scared. But God has put a prompting in your heart.”

“It’s more like my face. He put it in my face.”

“Okay, your face. He is giving you a chance to be a blessing. And I promise you, you will feel relieved if you follow through on it. What’s a little embarrassment in light of that?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I feel like a jerk,” Rodney mumbled while stuffing his face in his pillow.

His mom stroked his curly red hair. “I don’t want you to feel bad. I want you to feel blessed and happy and at peace with yourself. I have to go to work now. Come see me before you leave. Dr. Hagopian will stop by in a little while to tell you when you can go home.”

Rodney waved goodbye as she left the room. He threw the covers off and searched the room for any sight of angels or demons. He saw his guardian angel standing near the window.

“Barook, that’s your name, right? Where is that other guy who’s usually here with you, and where is the lady that you wanted me to talk to yesterday? Is she still here in the hospital? I think I’m ready to talk to her today.”

“Huzzah! Pride is swelling within me. In point of fact, Adoram has gone back to our heavenly realm for the time being, and the dame you seek is breakfasting this morn in the public house on the first floor.”

“You mean the cafeteria? We’re gonna need to update your vocab. You’re killing me with that old English.” Barook nodded and then winced a little.

*** 

Barook led Rodney downstairs to the cafeteria of Providence St. Joseph Hospital. Rodney gleefully inhaled the aroma of sizzling hash browns and sausage. At a table that Barook pointed toward, the elderly woman from the waiting room was eating scrambled eggs and reading Time magazine. She was supposed to have had an MRI yesterday afternoon to check on the size of her brain tumor, but a weird kid was brought in before her, and her appointment got pushed back. She decided not to wait after watching that crazy red-headed boy have a full conversation with the wall. She had better things to do. So, she re-scheduled for 9 a.m. today. After arriving early and checking in with the nice receptionist at the imaging center, she decided to grab a quick bite to eat. The food wasn’t bad—for a cafeteria.

Barook, still stinging from Rodney’s criticism of his vernacular, spoke to Rodney in the voice of a cage-match announcer, “Ladies and gentlemen, the devil’s number one tactic—that’s right number one—is to make you think you don’t have what you already have! You heard me! But hear this: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ. That’s right! I said every spiritual blessing!”

Rodney rolled his eyes at Barook. “I’m not sure I like this announcer voice, either.”

As he made his way over to Mrs. Washington’s table, he noticed the scorpions of sickness were, in fact, gone. Without introducing himself, he blurted out, “God wants me to tell you that you are healed.”

Mrs. Washington looked Rodney up and down. She recognized him from their previous encounter. “Look, I don’t know who you are or why you are accosting me like this, but I don’t feel healed, son. Not that it’s any of your business,” she retorted.

“Well you are. So there,” Rodney sputtered. He shot a look at Barook who hung his head in shame and frustration. “I mean,” Rodney started over. “God wants your faith to grow and He wants you to know that you are healed.” Not knowing Mrs. Washington skipped yesterday’s appointment, an idea hit him. “You should go back to the imaging center for another test. My mom works there. I’ll explain to her why you need another scan. C’mon,” he said excitedly as he reached for her arm.

Recoiling, Mrs. Washington glared at him and shot back, “Why should I go anywhere with you? You’re obviously out of your ever-loving mind. Get away from me before I scream.”

“Whoa! K,” Rodney acquiesced and backed away. “Forget I said anything.” On his way out of the room, he glared at Barook who was by his side. “Well, that went well.”

Trying out the cadence and vocabulary of a 1940’s gangster, Barook responded, “Ya weren’t considering her feelings in this matter, see? Youz were thinking only of yourself. You’re too ready to blow this joint, see?”

For a moment, Rodney forgot everything but how his angel was talking. “Look, if you’re with me all the time, you must have seen some of the TV shows I watch, right? Can’t you mimic the way people talk in those? We’re living in the 20th century now.” Remembering what just happened, he added, “And anyway, I did what you wanted. I’m officially off the hook. I don’t care what happens now.”

Barook looked both sad and a bit befuddled. He thought for a moment before saying in a very stilted accent, “Yo, that’s rough bra. It cuts me that you feel that way. And we are, uh, living in the 21^st century, by the way.”

“K, don’t use modern gangster rap either. That just sounds ridiculous coming out of you. Let’s go see if Dr. Hagopian will let me go home now.” Then, after a beat, “Really? The 21st century?  Huh.”