Alive and sad

What next? Suzanne's death, this big city that looked at him with big eyes and its secrets that were tired of being forgotten. Running away was impossible. Running away from himself all the more so. The voices in his head were louder than Adelard thought. They were so loud that he didn't hear the sound of a car engine, the stomping of horses' hooves, and the next moment, unexpectedly for all the universe, the angel was hit and broken. Adelard, falling gently to the hard ground looked up at the sky, saw Susanne's calm face before him. In the whirlwind of life, he fell down and might never rise. That fall was too loud, too colorful. The broken leg, like broken wings, took its time to make Adelard squirm in pain. And the white bone slowly showed itself through the blood. With a smile on his face, Adelard closed his eyes. His curly hair was over his face, his fingers greedily clutching the air, and it was only when the pain stunned him unconscious that he realized he was losing his pulse.

The loud barking of dogs, along with the voice of the crow, woke up the sick, suffering people. Amidst the smell of medicine and death, tired eyes simultaneously opened and also closed as the sunlight gently rested on their faces. And when the clatter of heels sounded clear, everyone tried to lie down as comfortably as possible. After all, it was time for the injection. A nurse in an overly white outfit silently approached the first patient, who was a young woman with a deep wound on her right arm. She silently accepted the pain of the needle and as the nurse headed toward the other patient, this woman turned away and made an unpleasant sound for all to hear. When it was Adelard's turn, the nurse fixed her hair and regretted so much that she had not brought a mirror and lipstick with her. Still, she was young and beautiful. After all, all beauty is always in vigor itself rather than in appearance.

Ignoring the voices of the patients, the nurse approached Adelard, who had an accident and now was lying with a broken leg in a completely different country.

"Monsieur Adelard," the nurse said, trying to look as much like a Frenchwoman as possible.

Slowly opening his eyes, through fluffy lashes Adelard did not immediately realize where he was. But when he wanted to get up and felt a terrible pain that could make him go crazy, he understood everything.

"Monsieur, you must not move. Your leg is broken. Lie down, I'll do everything," the nurse said, gently covering him with a blanket.

"How did I end up here? What's going on?" Adelard managed to ask the question, through the impossible pain.

"You'll feel better now. Wait." The sharp needle did its job. The pain was gone, but now came the chills and the urge to visit the restroom.

"You can't get up. Here, take this," the nurse said, holding out a special device replacing a simple toilet.

"I can't," Adelard said, clutching the blanket in pain.

"I'll help you," the nurse said before Adelard could stop her. "Don't worry. It's my job after all. There's no need to be embarrassed," she said and looked at Adelard's beauty with joy in her eyes. When the embarrassing action stopped and Adelard felt relief in his lower abdomen, he was able to think clearly. Yes, he was in the hospital. His leg was broken and the grief was still with him. So he wasn't dead. And this nurse, who was much younger than him was actually standing nearby, holding a special bottle with a yellow liquid inside.

"Well, I have to leave you. The doctor will be here soon," she said, blushing and smiling.

"Thank you," Adelard replied, trying not to cry in pain. It wasn't until she left, but he was able to cover his face and tears fell on the soft pillow.

"Don't cry, darling," someone's voice said.

"Suzanne!" Adelard exclaimed, drawing all attention to himself.

"Handsome, I'm not Suzanne. But in case you're wondering, my name is Maria. Nice to meet you," said a woman with lush hair and a brightly painted face.

"What?"

"I said, my name is Maria."

"Adelard."

"And you have a beautiful name. And why did an angel like you break your leg?" Maria asked, looking compassionately at Adelard's sweaty face.

"I did not notice the world around me," Adelard replied.

"My angel, it happens to people." Maria held out a handkerchief to him. She was a kind woman who genuinely cared about him. But he didn't notice all that kindness. "While you were sleeping, you screamed. It was hard for me to look at you like that. But alas, there was nothing I could do."

"I'm sorry, I can't hold a conversation right now," Adelard said, clutching the edge of the pillow and trying not to lose consciousness from the pain.

"I understand. Get some rest, handsome man. Maybe we'll talk later," Maria said as she continued to watch his long hair dangle smoothly off the bed and softly touch the tiled floor.

After a long silence and listening to his heartbeat, Adelard opened his eyes. The sun was too bright, a single butterfly was flying above, fluttering its wings over his face. And on those green wings one could see cunning patterns signifying the fate of everyone. The aria of death was too triumphant. And even that butterfly was part of something terrifying. In a cold sweat, amidst the pain and gloom, everyone was alone. And no one could convince them that there was happiness. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Adelard took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and managed to get up and lean against the hard surface of the cold wall.

"Handsome, you're awake," Maria said, smiling.

"I was awake."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"You need to eat. You are so thin and pale. I'm so afraid for you."

"You shouldn't be afraid for me," Adelard said, only now seeing his new friend clearly.

"Tell me, are you married?" Maria asked, looking at the ring on his finger.

"Yes. I have a wife."

"You don't love her, do you?"

"What makes you think so?" Adelard asked indifferently.

"Because, your voice hasn't changed at all," Maria said.

"You don't know me," Adelard replied briefly, trying to think only of his leg which had finally stopped hurting.

"My dear one, listen and remember. Love can break you completely. And it always was like that. But if you let love do too much, your whole life can end up broken," Maria continued, and when the tall doctor approached her, she immediately directed her attention to him.

"Adelard! God! I'm so sorry!" Arthur's voice was too loud that he was able to wake the people who were sound asleep after the surgery. Throwing his arms around him, he spoke without ceasing. His words were hard for Adelard to understand, but nevertheless, his emotions were louder than the disgruntled voices of the nurses. "Adelard, say something!"

"There's nothing wrong with me. Arthur, you don't have to yell like that."

"I reported everything to your wife. She was ready to destroy me over the phone."

"How is she? How's home?"

"She's fine. She said she's fine."

"I'll call her soon."

"Adelard, why didn't you stay home? I know it's hard for you, but still, you shouldn't act like that. Don't scare me."

"I feel sick," Adelard said, feeling the urge to vomit again.

"Wait." Placing the bucket in front of him, Arthur hugged him, hiding his face in his hair. "It'll be all right," he whispered over and over as Adelard continued to agonize, feeling all life leave him.

The next thing was very powerful fatigue. And then, as his heart returned to its former state, the clock hands went forward, forcing all events to merge into one picture. The canvas of the great artist was filled with different colors, traces of time that made Adelard take a leap in time.

And when his eyes opened, he realized that several months had passed. In that time, his leg had become the same and his graceful gait had brought back to his soul the strongest desire to live. The New York city, the place where he left himself and found himself. As he was supposed to, the last place he visited before he left was Suzanne's grave. The gray stone with the name and two dates was the last thing that made him cry. Even though all the troubles were ahead.