Angel in the Mad Men's Ward, Part 1

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I saw her for the first time about two weeks ago. I was sitting at my desk, cluttered with all sorts of documents, when I heard footsteps in the hallway. Through the glass, so carefully polished it was completely invisible, a tall, well-built man caught my eye. His face was etched with fear, or perhaps surprise; I didn't look at him for long.

Holding his hand tightly, almost convulsively, was a girl of 14, maybe 15. She walked slowly, uncertainly, glancing around. The glassiness of her vivid green eyes mesmerized me. The world suddenly vanished, dissolved; there was nothing left but two leafy, shimmering dots, so delicate that I was afraid to move lest a chance gust of air transform them into bursting soap bubbles, yet so sure and strong that they had held me motionless for so many years. It seemed to me that time had stood still. Even though our gazes met for a split second, I could perfectly capture every detail of the green in her eyes.

Completely unexpectedly, she stopped looking around and looked up at the man with her. He responded immediately, stopping and crouching down so she was slightly above his head. Her right hand gently touched his hair, casually brushing it across his neck to rest on his shoulder. She trembled slightly. The man studied her for a moment, then wrapped his large arms around the beautiful creature so tightly that I feared she might disappear inside him. They remained like that for what seemed like an eternity until one of the doctors emerged from the on-call room. A portly, red-haired woman wearing dark, square glasses made a welcoming gesture with her hands.

"Come in, Mr. Majewski," she said in a bored voice.

The girl opened her mouth, inhaling sharply.

"The young lady will wait outside," Ruda added pointedly, giving her a sharp look from behind her heavy glasses.

So the young lady sat on the chair with one leg tucked under her, the other nervously waving in the air. I decided to come closer, to examine the white skirt, so airy I could have sworn it was made of wind, the blue blouse, delicate as the sky on those beautiful June days when not a cloud dared disturb the heavenly peace.

I couldn't.

The door to the on-call room opened again. Majewski, already changed into hospital clothes, seemed to be thinking deeply about something. He crouched down next to the girl, still sitting in the chair where he had left her. He touched her face with his hand, and she looked at him with a strange reproach, a regret.

"I'll stay here for a long time, Zosia..." he finally spoke.

Zosieńka! Oh, how beautiful that name was, how sweet it sounded in my ears, caressing them like a melody from a music box, though fragile and thin, with the power to captivate a person for hours, to listen to the same sounds over and over again...

Zosia lowered her head, biting her lip. She didn't want to look at Majewski anymore.

"Come on, darling," the man said hesitantly, as if afraid of the innocent creature.

She grabbed his hand, just as trustingly as when they'd entered the room a few minutes ago. Ruda walked beside them, her task being to show the patient around and show him his bed, where he would spend the next few months. After an initial tour of the ward, a new patient knocked on my office door. I was terrified. Would Zosieńka come in with him? What if two little green dots swallowed the world again?

But Zosia preferred to wait outside.

I exchanged a few words with Majewski. I didn't really need to talk to him. He was one of the patients who had been sentenced long ago. By his parents, his surroundings, his psychologists. Michał Majewski's file spoke for itself. And he knew it. He knew he'd become a puppet, a stuffed toy, that after a few months he wouldn't know his elbow from his butt, but he didn't care a damn. I felt it, I sensed it the moment I saw them. He was concerned about her, about what would happen to his little girl when he... what would happen to Zosia when she turned into a plant?

It was 7:15, which meant the medication would begin in 15 minutes. The redhead ordered Zosia to leave the ward.

I watched her leave, saw glistening tears streaming down her cheeks.

When she was almost to the door, when I saw her back, I was terribly surprised that a pair of soft, white wings weren't there.