Later that same evening after Colm was stable and settled into a room upstairs in the hospital, Dr. Basu urged Sean to take Cathleen home. She was visibly exhausted and needed a good night’s rest. “Tomorrow Colm will be operated on. It will be a long day,” he reminded them. He assured Cathleen he would take excellent care of the boy and would not leave his side. Cathleen could not believe his dedication.
“What about your other patients, your own family? Don’t you have to go home?” Cathleen asked.
“Well, I am on call. And, to be frank, I do not have a family. Don’t you worry about me. I don’t have anything else I’d rather do. Nothing whatsoever.”
“Thank you, Doctor. We will see you in the morning then.” Cathleen whispered softly into the sleeping child’s ear, “Sweet dreams, my little one,” and kissed Colm good-bye.
After Cathleen and Sean left, Dr. Basu walked past the sleeping boy to stand at the window. Immediately, he found the North Star; the polestar—constant, never changing, he thought. He had named Dhruv for it. He didn’t believe Dhruv was up there looking down on him though. Dr. Basu had long since put such fanciful notions to bed. But he looked nevertheless, thinking that this time, there would be a way—there had to be a way—to save this child.
Colm woke up and saw the doctor. “Dr. Basu? Is that you?”
“Yes, Dove. How are you feeling?”
“Why do you call me Dove?”
“That is what your name means. In India, some people think a name determines one’s future.”
“But my name is not Dove. It’s Colm.”
“There is a funny thing about people in India. We give everyone we love a special name, sometimes lots of names. That is why I call you Dove or Little Dove.”
“Do you like me, Dr. Basu?”
“I like all people.”
“Am I like all people then?”
“Yes, but you’re special.”
“So does that mean you still like me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I knew you did. I could tell you were different the moment I saw you.”
“You are special indeed, Little Dove.”
“My mama says I am special.”
“She is right.”
“Dr. Basu, can I tell you something? It is something I haven’t told anyone—ever.”
“Yes. Go on.”
“You won’t tell Mama or Uncle Sean, and especially not the monsignor?”
“Of course, not ever.”
“When I am gone, I know everyone thinks I am dead. I know my heart stops beating and part of my brain stops working. I have heard people say that. And today, I heard everyone say that my brain died . . . that I was gone.”
“Yes. You know a lot for a young boy.”
“If I am dead, shouldn’t I be in heaven? Shouldn’t I see the angels Mama told me about? Shouldn’t I see my Irish nana? And my grandfather, the giant fireman?”
“Some people believe there is a heaven, Colm. Yes. Some people, after they die for a bit and come back to life, think they have been to heaven.”
“I don’t believe them, Dr. Basu.”
“No? Why not?”
“I know what happens when we die.”
“You do?” Dr. Basu was fascinated.
“I don’t see anything when I die. There is nothing, but a black, black world. There is no God, no heaven, no angels, no people. There is nothing. Do you think it’s because I am a bad boy that I can’t make it to heaven? Do you think God has forgotten about me?”
“No. You are a good and brave boy.”
“Then why don’t I see God when I am dead? Doesn’t he love me? Doesn’t God even want me?”
“What is this even stuff? Everyone wants you. Everyone loves you.”
“Not my real dad.”
“Oh. I see,” Dr. Basu said, exhaling. What a terrible burden for a child to carry, he thought.
“I am not good enough for him either.”
“Now, listen here, Dove. I do not know the answers to such questions about God. They are big questions for a boy—for a man. But I know you are wanted and you are loved. I also may not be able to explain God, but I can explain this: if you are alive right now, that means that most likely you were not really dead. I know there has been a lot of talk about you being dead, and I know that must sound very scary to you, but I want to explain something. May I?”
“Yes.”
“When a certain part of your brain is resting—the part that sends the messages to the rest of your body to work—it doesn’t send your heart the messages it needs to beat. Without that certain part of your brain your heart doesn’t work. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, I heard you tell my mama the other day.”
“Yes, you are a good listener. When your heart can’t pump, it can’t get blood to the rest of your brain. If your brain doesn’t get blood, it doesn’t work very well either—so that is why you can’t see anything. It’s very difficult to understand, I am sure. Do you follow me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“For some reason, Colm, your brain stays asleep for a long time. A very long time. It’s unique and special, like you. But I am sure there is a reason, and I intend to find out why. I am sorry I can’t answer your questions about God. I can’t explain why you don’t see him, but as a man of science, a doctor, Colm, I can tell you this: if you’re really not dead, then perhaps that is one reason why you can’t see God.”
“Do you believe in God and angels and stuff like that, Dr. Basu?”
“I used to. When I was a child, I prayed to many gods. But when I became a man, I came to believe in other things.”
“I don’t believe in God, Dr. Basu. If I tell my mama, she’ll be mad.”
“No, she won’t be mad. She loves you no matter what. You would be surprised how strong a mother’s love is. It’s stronger than anything in the world—even doubt.”
“You won’t tell her though, right?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Thank you, Dr. Basu.”
“You’re very welcome, son.” Dr. Basu didn’t even notice he used the term.
But Colm heard the word and treasured it. He held it close to his heart. “Son,” Colm repeated softly so the doctor couldn’t hear, and then louder he said to Dr. Basu, “Thank you for fixing my heart, too,” Colm said.
“I will try my best, Little Dove. Does it hurt you? Are you in any pain tonight?”
“My heart hurts me all the time. The pain never goes away.”
“I see. Can you point to it?”
Colm pointed to the center of his chest.
“OK. I am going to try to make you better.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome. Now get some rest.”
Dr. Basu pushed himself away from the boy’s bed and began to make his way out of the room.
“Don’t go, Dr. Basu. Will you stay with me?”
“Yes.”
Colm closed his eyes and began to fall asleep. As he drifted off, his face relaxed, and Dr. Basu noticed a broad smile come across the boy’s face. If I didn’t know better, the doctor thought to himself, the angels in heaven are making the boy laugh.