“Magical blood,” he said.
All blood is magical, he heard from within his heart.
Heart.
He remembered Ocean’s words … what she’d said about the thymus gland. How would he go about extracting a sample of his? He didn’t think it was possible and immediately shelved the idea.
He returned to his freezer and pulled out a few dozen vials and some Ziploc bags of things long forgotten. He homed in on one bag in particular. The sample of grayish tissue had been in the freezer for over a year.
After setting it on the counter, he paced nervously. It’s just a sample, he tried to convince himself, but his heart knew better. He stopped pacing and stared at the bag of tissue. As it warmed to room temperature, the color changed. It was pinkish now.
He took a deep breath and prepared the slide with the tissue. He placed it under the cylinder and prepared himself to look.
He drew his breath in over his teeth. “A boy,” he whispered with a shaky voice. The boy who wasn’t meant to be. He was beautiful, with blue, saucer-shaped eyes and a mop of blond curls. Just like his mama, he thought. He shook off the sadness and disbelief took over. “This makes no sense,” he said out loud. “This tissue is just tissue. It didn’t have a heartbeat. It’s not a child.”
“As it is, no, it’s not.” Ocean appeared at the doorway, startling him so badly he fell backward. He hit his head going down to the floor.
“Shit, Joel,” Ocean scolded him for his own clumsiness. She helped him up off the floor as he grabbed the back of his head gingerly, then opened the freezer and handed him the first ice pack she found.
“That’s horse plasma,” he said, rejecting the bag.
“It’s not going anywhere,” she said. “Hold it to the bump.”
He obliged and walked back to the crystal cylinder.
“Having fun with your new toy?” she asked.
“I was at first. This is incredible,” he said. “But now things are getting weird.”
“Things have always been weird, Joel. You’re seeing things you can’t explain away with logic. Steiner always said, ‘Material substances in different beings have secrets not dreamt of by material science.’ I miss that guy.”
All of Joel’s conflicting emotions could no longer be contained. They spilled out in tears, and he held his head in one hand while he pressed the plasma pack against his bump with the other. “She was too young to be a mother,” he said, his face still down.
“Yes, in our culture, few people should be having babies before they’re thirty. Today’s generation is too immature.”
“But …” He stopped himself, unable to find words. He gestured to the sample.
“But that boy was the most beautiful creature you have ever seen,” she finished his thought. “And your heart aches not to hold him.”
Joel got the sense Ocean was speaking from experience. “Yes.” He sobbed for just a minute, then quickly composed himself. “It’s silly. It was only a brief moment that I saw him, but I loved him instantly. I don’t know him, yet I completely and utterly believe he is a lost part of me I’ve just found.”
She smiled—a rare moment of compassion for her. “I’m so glad, Joel.” She touched his face lovingly. “That soul of that boy wasn’t meant to enter this three-dimensional world. He had another purpose. One being today, showing you the magic of the universe. In a split second, your world has been changed forever by someone you’ll never know. You’ve been gifted with a glimpse of the divine.”
He nodded his head slowly. “I don’t want to ever forget,” he said wistfully.
“Then consider the crystal your perpetual View-Master,” she said.
“The microscope has always been my portal to another world. Now it literally is,” he said.
“Be careful, Joel,” Ocean warned. “It can be easy to get lost in a world of what-ifs. Know that everything is perfect, and all choices lead to the same conclusion. We can believe a fetus that dies is gone forever, or we can choose to believe it’s just been transformed into something else, something better—and that the love of that soul is never lost.” She squeezed his arm. “How’s your head?”
“Better.” He removed the plasma bag, which had now thawed considerably, from his head.
“You’re making me forget why I’m here,” she said. “Mica is ready to support a bill. Are you ready to announce your findings?”
“Oh, cancer.” His demeanor turned dark. “It was quite gruesome under the crystal scope.”
“Whad’ya think, it was going to be moonlight and roses?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“Have you worked with the sound vibration technology I gave you?”
“Not yet,” he said.
“What are you waiting for? You’ve had three days,” she said. “I wanted you to come to your own conclusion, but I’ll just tell you the answer. Sound waves only work on some cancers, not all,” she said. “But there’s something else that will work every time.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s radical,” she said.
“That’s never stopped you,” he said.
She searched the countertop until she found tweezers. Joel watched her intently as she took a sample of the fetal tissue and placed it on top of the cancer cells, still out on the counter.
“That’s insane,” Joel said.
“Is it?” she asked. “What do you think will happen?”
“I have no idea.” He was quick to look through the viewing hole. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Give it a minute,” she said.
He looked again. The tissue no longer showed Joel an image of the baby boy but rather of his pure essence, his light, the light of a soul close enough to know God in his heart. That light was enough to penetrate the dark walls of the cancer cells.
“Astonishing,” he whispered.
Ocean beamed proudly.
Joel watched holes rip through the black fiber, allowing blinding light to emerge. Within minutes, all blackness was gone. Only pulsing white cells remained on the slide. Their work done, they encapsulated the light and returned to their intended shape and size.
“I have no idea what this means,” he said.
“It means the frequency of love cures cancer,” Ocean said.
“That is far from what you usually teach,” he said. “And I’m sorry to tell you, that’s not a scientific finding.”
“Then your job is to turn it into one.”
Argan didn’t dwell on long good-byes. His sisters would cry for days either way. They swore to keep candles lit until his return. His father gave him a strong hug and left the room without a word.
He looked around his house. It held good memories but also now seemed no longer useful. He was ready to let it go, to let it become part of his past.
He stood with Leonora at the threshold of the front door, one foot in each world, a small but mighty backpack slung over his shoulder. He held a chocolate croissant, Leonora’s favorite, in his hand. A lit candle burned in the center.
“I’m sorry to leave on your birthday,” he said.