Mister Klein, my social worker, came by one day. He told me I'd been very lucky.

My sisters came by on another day. They told me I'd been very lucky.

They also cried a little, and told me that my folks wanted to come visit, but were too old and unable, which I didn't believe, but I acted as if I did, and that really, I didn't mind, not in the slightest, which seemed to cheer them up.

One morning, after I had swallowed my daily dosage of pills, the nurse looked at me and smiled, told me that I should get a haircut, and then informed me that I was going home.

"Mister Petrel, big day today," she said. "Going to be discharged."

"That's good," I said.

"You have a couple of visitors, first," she said.

"My sisters?"

She leaned close enough so that I could smell the intoxicating freshness of her starched white outfit and shampooed hair. "No," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "Important visitors. You have no idea, Mister Petrel, how much people here on this floor have wondered about you. You're the biggest mystery in the hospital. Orders from up high to make sure you got the best room. Best treatment. All being taken care of by some mysterious folks whom nobody knows. And then, today, some VIPs in a long black limousine to take you home. You must be an important person, Mister Petrel. A celebrity. Or, at least, that's what people around here are wondering."

"No," I said. "I'm nobody special."

She laughed and shook her head. "You're too modest."

Behind her, the door opened, and the psychiatric resident poked his head in. "Ah, Mister Petrel," he said. "You have visitors."

I looked toward the door, and from behind him I heard a familiar voice. "C-Bird? What you doing in there?"

And then a second, "C-Bird, you giving anyone any trouble?"

The psychiatrist stepped aside, and Big Black and Little Black stepped into the room.

If anything, Big Black was even bigger. He sported an immense waistline that seemed to flow like some great ocean into a barrel chest, thick arms, and steel pillar legs. He wore a three-piece blue pin-striped suit that to my uneducated eye seemed very expensive. His brother was equally dressed up, with leather shoes that reflected a sheen from the overhead lights. Both men wore some gray in their hair, and Little Black had gold wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose, giving him a slightly academic appearance. It seemed to me that they had set aside their youth, replacing it with substance and authority.

"Hello, Mister Moses and Mister Moses," I said.

The two brothers pushed their way directly to the side of the bed. Big Black put out his massive hand and clapped me on the shoulder. "Feeling better, C-Bird?" he asked.

I shrugged. Then I realized this perhaps wasn't the most positive of impressions to be giving, so I added, "Well, I'm not wild about all the medications, but I certainly think I'm a lot better."

"You had us worried," Little Black said. "Damn scared, really."

"When we found you," Big Black was speaking quietly, "we weren't sure you were going to make it. You were pretty far out there, C-Bird. Talking to folks that weren't there, throwing things, fighting, shouting. Pretty shaky."

"I'd had some rough days."

Little Black nodded. "We've all seen some tough times. You scared us plenty."

"I didn't know it was you that came for me," I said.

Big Black laughed, and looked over at his brother. "Well, it's not the sort of thing we do a whole lot anymore. Not like the old days, when we were young guys working at the old hospital and doing what old Gulp-a-pill wanted. No more. But we got the call, and we hurried right over and we're just damn glad we got there before you, well…"

"Killed myself?"

Big Black smiled. "You want to put it that bluntly, C-Bird, well, that's exactly right."

I leaned back a little onto the pillows and looked over at the two men. "How did you know…" I started.

Little Black shook his head. "Well, we've been keeping an eye on you for some time, C-Bird. Getting regular reports from Mister Klein at the treatment center about your progress. Plenty of calls from the Santiago family, 'cross the hall. They've been helping us watch out for you. Local police, some of the local business men, they all pitched in, help keep tabs on C-Bird, year in, year out.

I'm surprised you didn't know."

I shook my head. "I had no idea. But how did you arrange…"

"Lots of folks owe my brother and me, big-time, C-Bird. And there's lots of folks who are always looking to do a favor or two for the county sheriff" he nodded toward Big Black "or a city councilman…"

He paused, and then added: "Or a federal judge who has a most genuine and mighty big interest in the man who helped to save her life one real bad night a number of years ago."

I had never ridden in a limousine before, especially one driven by a police officer in uniform. Big Black showed me how to make the windows roll up and down, and then he showed me where the telephone was and asked me if I wanted to make a call at taxpayer's expense, of course to anyone, which I might have liked, but I couldn't think of anyone that I wanted to speak with. Little Black gave the driver directions to my street, and he held onto a small blue duffel bag that contained two sets of clean clothes that my sisters had given me.

When we turned down the narrow block that led to my apartment, I saw another official-looking car parked outside. A driver in a black suit was standing by the door, waiting for us. He seemed to know the Moses brothers, because when we got out of the limousine, he merely pointed up toward the window to my apartment and said, "She's upstairs waiting."

I led the way up to the second floor.

The door that had been burst from its hinges by the Moses brothers and the ambulance crew had been repaired, but was wide open. I stepped just inside my apartment, and saw that it had been cleaned up, fixed up, and restored. I could smell new paint, and saw that the appliances in the kitchen were new. Then I looked up, and saw Lucy standing in the middle of the small living room.

She leaned a little to the right, using a silver aluminum cane for support. Her hair shone, glistening, black, but with a little gray around the edges, as if she was showing the same age that the Moses brothers had. The scar on her face had faded further with the passing of the years, but her green eyes and beauty were still as breathtaking as the day I'd first seen her. She smiled, when I approached her, and she held out her hand.

"Oh, Francis," she said, "you had us so worried. It has been so long, and now, it is good to see you again."

"Hello, Lucy," I said. "I've thought about you often."

"And I about you, as well, C-Bird."

For a moment, I remained rooted in position, frozen a little like I was the first time we'd met. It is always hard to speak, think, or breathe, at some moments, especially when so many memories are reverberating in the air, just behind every word, every look, and every touch.

It seemed to me that I had much to ask her, but what I said, instead was "Lucy, why didn't you save Peter?"

She smiled ruefully, and shook her head.

"I wished that I could," she said. "But the Fireman needed to save himself. I couldn't do it. Nor could anyone else. Only him."

She seemed to sigh and as she did so, I looked past her and saw that the wall where my words were collected remained intact. The rows of writings marched up and down, the drawings leapt out, the story was all there, just as it had been the night the Angel had finally come to me, but I'd slipped through his grasp. Lucy followed my eyes with her own, and half turned toward the wall.

"Quite an effort, C-Bird," she said.

"You've read it?"

"Yes. We all have."

I didn't say anything, because I didn't know what to say.