the healing touch of jonathan theriault

7/29/2019 The Healing Touch of Jonathan Theriault

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/the-healing-touch-of-jonathan-theriault 1/30

Eric Dufresne About 5590 words

Montreal, Quebec,

Canada

The Healing Touch of Jonathan Theriault

by Eric Dufresne

(manuscript format)

Jonathan never knew where his ability to cure diseases came

from. For awhile, he believed the gift came from God and that

his mission in life was to heal every sick human on Earth.

Well, screw that plan, right? thought Jonathan, attempting a

sarcastic jab at his ordeal. Almost totally blind, he lay in

his hospital bed as sarcasm quickly made way for resignation.

Jonathan’s bed was placed near an open window. He could

hear people, mostly patients, walking on the gravel path that

circled the small artificial lake behind the hospital. The warm

breeze felt good on his face; spring was just around the corner.



The Healing Touch of Jonathan Theriault © Dufresne / 2

He turned his head towards his mother and father who sat close

to him. Jonathan made them out as shadows as his eyes were

shutting down on him.

To put his mind off his condition, he thought about heaven,

which he had done quite a few times lately. He daydreamed that

in heaven, women eat dessert without putting on weight, and all

the guys drive the coolest cars.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” asked his mom.

“Ice cream. And the Batmobile.”

“Must be the medication,” whispered Jon’s dad to his wife.

The worried woman ignored him.

“I know you can beat this thing, Jon,” she said. “I just

know it...”

But the old question was: could Jonathan allow himself to do

it?

Letting the question linger in his mind - with a sudden

craving for a bowl of cold, creamy ice cream - Jonathan laid his

head on his pillow, and closed his eyes.

At that moment, a newspaper headline from twenty-some years

ago came into focus in his mind: COMET GRAZES EARTH. The

situation, Jonathan remembered, had been so serious that many

astronomers had thought Earth was done for: the planet would be

like a ball meeting God’s baseball bat. The astronomers had

called the comet some foolish name like B-52A or something of




the sort. Jonathan always thought the astronomers had showed a

sick sense of humor for naming a comet after a bomber.

In the end, the comet had passed some 300,000 miles from

Earth, which in astronomy terms is like a car passing by one’s

house. The only immediate effects had been invisible cosmic

particles being shot by the comet’s tail into the atmosphere.

Following that near-Armageddon, science consultants debated for

days on CNN whether those particles had been destroyed by the

atmosphere or not, and if they had passed through, how they

could affect humans. Cancer had been one theory advanced by the

experts.

#

One spring day, soon after the comet’s drive-by, Jonathan

performed his first miraculous cure. He was 17 years old. His

mother, Margaret Theriault, had gotten such a fever and a sudden

pain in her stomach that his father had rushed her to the

hospital. After examining her, the doctors diagnosed acute

appendicitis.

As Jonathan’s mom rolled by on a stretcher towards the

O.R., the boy hurried to touch her hand. Immediately, he felt a

kind of heat pass from his spine, across his arm, until it

seemed to explode at his fingertips. Margaret must have felt it




too because she suddenly raised her puzzled face to stare at her

son. As for Jonathan, he got a severe head rush. He sank to

the floor with his back against the wall and waited for the

feeling to pass.

Thirty minutes later, the surgeon walked out of the O.R.

He pulled down his mask and took Jonathan’s father aside, all

the while nibbling nervously at his lower lip.

Jonathan, feeling less shaky, sneaked close enough to hear

them:

“What do you mean ‘there’s nothing’?” asked the father.

“Well, uh, the appendix is just...fine,” mumbled the

doctor, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation.

“You mean you cut her up and discovered my wife’s a-okay?”

“Well...we did proceed with the incision, but not the

removal of the appendix.”

“There was nothing wrong with it?”

The doctor took a deep breath. “Your wife was diagnosed

with acute appendicitis. All the signs were there...”

“But...?”

“But the appendix was perfectly normal.”

“WHAT?”

Jonathan watched the exchange between his father and the

doctor from a few feet away. For him, the whole scene seemed

surreal.




“Shhh...Please, M.Theriault. I must ask you to lower your

voice.”

“Listen to me, you dumbass,” fumed Jon’s father. “I got

two words for you: malpractice suit!”

The doctor wiped sweat from his upper lip with his index.

He said, “Please, sir, hear me out: we’ll do a whole series

of tests just to be sure there’s nothing else wrong with your

wife.”

“Tests?” The vein on Jim Theriault’s forehead formed a

throbbing “Y”.

“Free of charge, of course,” added the doctor, wisely.

And that was that.

Jonathan had cured his mom’s appendicitis with a mere touch

of his hand just like Jesus’ apostles had cured the epileptics.

#

Some days went by before Margaret decided to talk to her son

about what had happened at the hospital. It was an awkward

moment, a typical conversation between a mom and her teenage son.

The mother stood by her son’s bedroom door while holding a

laundry basket full of dirty clothes. She said, “You know when

you touched me, I felt like something went to my stomach and the

pain was gone.”




As for Jonathan, he wished to avoid the issue; discussing

what had happened at the hospital was akin to discussing what he

does sometimes in his bed at night. Anyway, he had already

begun to convince himself the whole event had just been pure

coincidence. Me? Superhuman healer? Bullshit!

“Ma, I don’t know what you’re talking about. The fever

made you weird, y’know?”

“Honey, I know something happened.”

Jonathan held the paperback edition of Carrie and died to

get back into it, for a telekinetic teenage girl causing mayhem

and destruction in a little Maine municipality was much

preferable to this embarrassing conversation.

“I don’t know what to tell you, mom.” Jonathan hoped that

would put an end to the discussion.

He was wrong.

Margaret kept going: “But didn’t you feel it? When you

touched me? And how do you explain that the doctors found

nothing wrong with my appendix?”

Jonathan scratched his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’m telling you honey, something happened at the hospital.

A...miracle.”

At that moment, Jonathan grabbed his backpack and reached

inside.




“Mom, why don’t we talk about that.” He pulled a box of

condom out of his backpack and held it at arm’s length to make

sure his mother got a good look at it.

Margaret turned pale. She stalled for a second then said,

“I’ll ask your dad to have a word with you.” She walked away

from Jonathan’s room, and the issue - that of Jonathan’s healing

touch, that is - never resurfaced until many years later.

#

A few days after his talk with his mom, Jonathan tried to

cure one of his friends, Tom Craig, from a bad cold. But

nothing happened; no heat passed along his spine and shot

through his fingertips. Rather, he just felt like an idiot for

touching Tom’s forehead and making him spit out, “Stop touching

me, douche!”

Secretly, it unsettled Jonathan that his power had just been

an apparent fluke. For a while, he had pictured his face on

Time magazine, being proclaimed Man of the Millennium, no less.

He could see himself being flown around the planet by world

leaders, curing men, women, and children from malaria, leprosy,

and countless other ailments. Jonathan even imagined a hero’s

welcome at the United Nations.

But none of those hopes and dreams ever came true.




Curing his mom from appendicitis had appeared to be a one-

shot deal; the gift had come and gone just like the comet.

Well, Jonathan thought he could probably let Tom suffer a bit

anyway for calling him a “douche”.

#

Five years went by before Jonathan realized his healing gift

was the real deal.

On a beautiful spring day, Jonathan’s relatives gathered for

a barbecue at Uncle Gus’ farm.

Uncle Gus was a big man with a big heart. He loved a good

meal, family gatherings, ice-cold beer, and his favorite nephew,

Jonathan.

When Jonathan and his family arrived at the farm, Gus

greeted them with a can of Budweiser in one hand and a

handkerchief in the other.

“Hi, big brother!” said Jim Theriault.

“Jimmy!” Gus greeted back. Both men shook hands. Gus

looked at his sister-in-law.

“Hi Margaret,” he said with a big smile.

“Hi Gus,” Margaret answered, annoyed. Somehow, she always

felt that way around Gus; his loud voice, his love of good food

and good beer - it all exasperated her. Nevertheless, she would




be the first to admit that her brother-in-law was one of the

most generous human beings she had ever known. Still, she

thanked God that Jim, her husband, was a toned-down version of

Gus.

Gus kissed Margaret on a cheek, whirled around, and sneezed

in his handkerchief.

“Ooo, I see stars!” Gus laughed and pretended to get woozy

and lose his balance. “Either it’s the damn hay fever or the

beer. Or maybe it’s you, Margaret.”

Margaret grinned at Gus.

“Hey, Uncle Gus!”

“Well, if it ain’t Jon! Wow! You’re getting as tall as

your dad! But better-looking!”

The big man snorted, took a sip from his beer, and sneezed

again. This time, he didn’t use his handkerchief; spit flew out

of his mouth at the speed of sound. Disgusted, Margaret brought

a hand to her mouth.

The four of them walked towards the back of Gus’ farm where

everybody was already gathered, drinking beer or soda, eating

hot dogs, and playing horseshoe.

“How goddamn funny is this, eh?” mused Gus. “I earn my

living in a corn field, day in day out, and every year I get

this ungodly hay fever.”

“Quite ironic,” said Margaret.




“Exactly the word I was looking for. ‘Ironic’.”

They kept walking as Gus wiped his nose with the back of his

hand.

“Have you ever tried medication?” inquired Jonathan. “Like

BENILYN or something?”

“I don’t believe in that crap,” answered Gus in a heartbeat.

“It’ll go away as it always does. I just hope I won’t end up

sneezing my brains out!”

Gus put an arm around Jonathan’s shoulder as they both

laughed at the image of Gus’ grey cell exploding out of his

ears.

#

Later that day, Jonathan sat some distance away from his

relatives who were still drinking and eating in the backyard.

He was under a tall maple tree, the cool shade feeling good on

this warm spring day. Taking the last bite from his hot dog and

chasing it down with soda, he saw Gus, handkerchief in hand,

walking towards him. Gus’ face was flushed, and his eyes glazed.

“Are you okay, Uncle Gus?”

“Sure, Jon. Only the hay fever...and the beer.” Gus

honked loudly in the handkerchief as he sat down next to his

nephew.




“You know,” began Jonathan, wiping his mouth with a napkin,

“you should really try something for your allergies. It can

bring on fever, so I’ve heard.”

“Jon, son... Why would I want medication? Look at me.”

The boy did and almost laughed at his uncle’s drunken face.

“I’m as strong as an ox,” continued Gus. “This body

doesn’t need no god-awful chemical products to make it work

better!”

Then, Gus plumped down the grass, closed his eyes, and

began snoring.

Jonathan looked at his uncle who was just two feet from

him. What if I just touched him? he thought. Just to see if...

The young man hesitated a few minutes before making up his

mind. And when he touched his uncle’s hand, he felt that

extraordinary heat travel through his spine and explode at his

fingertips. Jonathan gasped and pulled his hand away from Gus,

afraid he might have sent a wave of energy strong enough to cook

his uncle’s hot-dog-filled entrails. Crawling a few feet away,

Jon felt a familiar faintness wash over him just as it had years

ago. And he almost had a heart attack when his uncle sat

straight up in front of him.

“What did you do, boy?” Gus stared at his nephew’s

startled face. “What did you do to me?”




“N - nothing, Uncle Gus...” Jonathan wasn’t quite sure if

Gus was angry or just confused from an alcohol-induced ten-

minute nap. But the boy quickly saw how Gus’ face had come back

to normal: no flushed cheeks, and his eyes were crystal clear.

“Hey!” exclaimed Gus. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“My hay fever – it’s gone! Holy geez, Jon!” He stroke his

nephew’s blond head. “I’ll be damned!”

“Are – are you okay, Uncle Gus?”

“Yeah! I feel like a million bucks! Hey, this calls for a

beer!”

Gus was all smiles as he stood up and went to celebrate

with yet another Budweiser.

Jonathan just sat there, trying to get his head together.

He didn’t know if he should be scared or thrilled by what had

just happened.

Why now? he wondered. Why did it never work all the other

times I tried? There must have been something he missed...a

sign. Then, he recalled the day he had cured his mother.

It was in spring.

He looked around and a one-hundred-watt light bulb came on

in his head.

I can cure people – but only during spring?

Call it what you will - fate, karma, God’s will - Jonathan

had miraculously been entrusted with healing faculties which




only worked during nature’s exact awakening. Missing the irony

of it all, a perplexed Jonathan simply thought: That sucks! Who

would want a power that works only once a year?

#

In spite of his initial sardonic response to the whole

situation, Jonathan proceeded to perform more miraculous

healings as the years passed.

Every time a one-shot deal, during springtime.

Consequently, Jonathan learned to use his power wisely,

reserving it only for serious conditions. For instance, on his

way to college a year after the barbecue at his uncle’s place,

Jonathan cured an epileptic boy who was in the midst of a

seizure.

By then, Jonathan had already realized he could not afford

to waste his power on people like, say, Tom Craig, whom he would

let endure more bad colds.

#

The migraines started soon after Jonathan’s 34th birthday.

One day the alarm clock buzzed and Jonathan just couldn’t

drag himself out from under the covers. He lay there and found




himself wishing the whole world would collapse onto itself as a

hammer pounded the inside of his head. After taking some ADVIL

and a few days off from work, the migraines subsided and

Jonathan was able to get back to the office.

Some weeks later, Jonathan’s vision blurred as the

migraines came back stronger than ever. Close to panic, he

wondered for the first time in his life what would happen if he

used his healing power on himself. Would it cause the whole

universe – if not only his brain - to implode?

It was still winter; spring was many weeks away and

Jonathan’s gift would resurface only then. As he grew older, he

had trained himself to intuitively feel his power emerge, like a

soothing warmth in his belly brought on by a creamy liquor.

Jonathan would just have to be patient until then.

Still, he did meet a doctor regarding his migraines. The

doctor said he could not come up with a proper diagnosis until a

Computerized Axial Tomography (CAT) scan of Jon’s brain was

done.

A few days later, Jonathan saw the result of the scan.

That brought cold shivers through his back. Instinctively, he

brought a hand to his head. Since his power was still dormant

in those final days of February, the healing energy refused to

manifest itself.




The scan showed a tumor the size of a golf ball inside

Jonathan’s brain.

The young man felt helpless. Powerless. And that made him

infuriated all the way to his bones.

His oncologist, Dr. Simoneau, said, “Jon, the tumor is

deadly. We have to start treatment as soon as possible.”

Jonathan could not say anything. The irony of it all

shocked speech out of him. All he could think of as he looked

at the scan of his brain was: How fucked-up is this shit?

Dr. Simoneau shifted in his chair.

“I’m truly sorry. There must be a thousand questions going

through your mind right now.”

No. Jonathan was seriously pissed and just wanted to

escape the doctor’s minuscule office.

Feeling nauseous, he did so, and called his mom.

#

Now, two months later, the cancer and chemotherapy

treatments had considerably weakened Jonathan. He lay in his

hospital bed, as livid as a dying fish. His eyes were rendered

useless; he could only see people as blurry, dark shadows. The

damage caused by the tumor was irreparable.




Jonathan could hear the birds sing outside. He felt the

warmth of the sun on his face. Spring was definitely knocking

at the door. Jonathan only hoped his power would emerge soon so

he could get rid of that fucking thing inside his head.

His mind was made up: at the earliest sign of his healing

power, he’d use it on himself. And if it meant having his brain

burst into flames as divine punishment for doing so, so be it.

#

Nurse Annie Bellehumeur popped her head in the door.

“Jon? Time for your medication.” Nurse Bellehumeur had a

euphonious voice, like soft, soothing music.

“Come in, Annie,” said Jonathan. He smiled as he saw her

delicate silhouette approach him. She smelled so good, like

wild flowers in a field.

Jonathan thought he might love her. No, he was sure of it.

He loved her with all his heart and couldn’t wait to tell her

how he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her sweet lips.

For that, Jonathan needed a miracle. Well, that miracle was

just about to happen: as Annie gave Jonathan his pills, he felt

a familiar warmth electrify his belly. At last, his power was

back.

The nurse gently touched her patient’s balding head.




“Where are your parents?”

“Having a quick bite at the cafeteria.”

“They’re awesome.”

“Yes. They are.”

“Well, uh - I’ll be back soon. To check your pressure.”

“My pressure’s just fine when you’re around.”

The girl timidly smiled as she walked to the door.

Jonathan shifted his head towards her.

“Hey, you like ice cream?”

Taken aback by the question, Annie turned.

“Sure, why?”

“I thought you might like to share some one day.”

“I’d love that. For now, get your rest. I’ll be back real

soon.”

After leaving the room, Annie went straight into the

washrooms and locked herself into a stall.

She began sobbing.

She felt ridiculous for letting her feelings get the better

of her.

She loved Jonathan too.

#

Soon after Annie’s visit, Jonathan’s parents were back in

the hospital room. As soon as she walked in, Margaret Theriault




went by the side of her son’s bed. Jim sat down on a chair and

began perusing through a wildlife magazine.

“Jon, you got this in the mail,” said Margaret. “A nice

card from your uncle Gus.”

“Cool. I miss him. What does it say?”

Margaret cleared her throat then read the note in the get-

well card: “Dear Jon, I’m sorry I can’t be there to offer you

some support. I think about you every day. If someone can beat

this thing, it’s you. You’re a wonderful, courageous boy. Be

strong. Love, Uncle Gus.”

“Hmm - that’s sweet. By the way...any problems getting in

my emails?”

“None. Speaking of which, you got one from...” Margaret

turned to her husband.

Jim put down his magazine. He took a piece of paper from

his back pocket and unfolded it. “It’s from your old buddy Tom

Craig. He wrote: ‘Hey Jon, I’m in Winnipeg right now trying to

set up some servers for CitiBank. Their project manager is an

asshole.’” Jim snickered then kept reading: “‘So, when are you

getting out so we can grab a couple of brewskies?

Anyways...I’ll try to drop by soon to bust your chops like old

times. You’re still my favorite douche. Tony.’”

“My, he’s a bit vulgar, that boy,” said Margaret.

Jon smiled. “Yeah. But a good guy. Miss him too.”




Margaret remained there, at her son’s bedside, watching

him. Chagrin filled her as it had for the past weeks. She

wanted to tell Jon something, but refrained herself.

Jonathan finally broke the short silence, as though he knew

exactly what his mom wanted to say but didn’t dare: “Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Remember back at the hospital when you got sick?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Well...what you believe I did, I really did it.”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “I always knew it!”

“And I want to try it on myself.”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” asked Jim.

Jonathan heard his father but he kept his attention on his

mom. “I need to get back home. I’ll do it at home, not here.I wouldn’t want the staff to see me walk out of here looking

like I can run the Boston marathon. It wouldn’t look...normal.”

“Don’t worry, Jon,” said Margaret. “We’ll get you out of

here.”

Jonathan’s father looked at his wife and son as though both

were completely nuts.

“We can’t do that!”

“Oh yes, we can,” retorted Margaret to her husband.




She started putting her son’s belongings in a backpack, the

same he had used as a teenager. The image of her son holding

the box of condoms suddenly made her cry.

“Hurry, Jim,” she said, near hysteria. “We have to hurry!”

“We can’t…”

“Dad,” called out Jonathan, as calm as ever. “Just help me

out of here. Trust me. You want me to be home.”

Jim hesitated, but only for a second. He put an arm under

his son to help him out of bed. And that’s when Nurse

Bellehumeur walked in the room, pushing a stretcher with a

patient on it.

#

Nurse Bellehumeur and a male nurse gently grabbed the young

female patient from the stretcher and transferred her onto the

bed next to Jonathan’s. The male nurse stepped out of the room,

taking the stretcher along with him.

Dubious, Annie observed Jonathan and his parents: Margaret

had both hands inside her son’s backpack, while Jim seemed to be

helping his son out of bed. To her, the whole scene just seemed

oddly amusing, as though they were about to sneak out of the

hospital without telling anyone. If only Annie knew how close

to being right she was.




“Can I help you guys?”

“N – no, we’re okay, thanks.” Jim had a ridiculous grin on

his face. He patted Jonathan’s shoulder as he eased his son

back into bed.

Jonathan propped his back against a stack of pillows. He

and his parents would have to wait until the nurse left the room

before attempting to sneak out again.

He turned to look at the patient next to him. In spite of

his weak vision, he could make out a small form on the bed.

“Annie?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s that next to me?”

“Oh, that’s Suzie White. A very courageous little girl.”

“What’s her story?”

Annie walked close to Jonathan.

“She has leukemia. She just had her chemo. Poor kid’s

beat.”

“And how’s it looking for her?”

For a few seconds, Annie wondered what to answer Jonathan:

the truth or the usual feel-good crap? She opted for the truth.

“Not good, I’m afraid,” said the nurse, lowering her voice.

“Doctor Simoneau’s outside telling her parents. It’ll take a

miracle.”




At that moment, the air in the room felt warmer and the sun

seemed to shine just a little brighter as though summer had

decided to arrive almost three months earlier.

Jonathan closed his eyes as vertigo suddenly washed over

him. Or was it fear putting the room in a slow spin? It didn’t

matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Jonathan grabbed the

sides of the mattress and took a deep breath. The vertigo

disappeared.

“Are you okay, Jon?”

Jonathan relaxed his grip on the mattress and looked at

Annie.

“Yep. It’s all good.”

Although the nurse wanted so much to believe Jonathan, she

knew it was a lie; in all the weeks she had cared for Jonathan,

she had never seen him so sad.

Jonathan put a hand on Annie’s arm and said, “Help me up.”

“What? Why?”

“I wanna see Suzie. I still can see y’know? If I get

reeeaaal close…” Jonathan moved his face closer to Annie’s

until he could feel her breathe right over his mouth. Both of

their lips almost touched.

“Okay, sure,” said Annie, blushing. “I’ll help you up.”

Jonathan’s mom brought her hands to her mouth.

“Please, Jon. No -”




“Everything will be fine, mom.”

“Your son’s all right, Mrs. Theriault,” assured Annie.

“Just taking a little stroll.”

“He just wants to see the little girl,” said Jim.

“No, not only see her...” Margaret hugged her husband and

let tears trickle down her cheeks. She looked deep into her

husband’s eyes: “You’ll be very proud of your son.”

“I already am, honey. I already am.”

#

Jonathan sat close to the little girl in the bed. He didn’t

bother asking the beautiful nurse Bellehumeur nor his parents to

step outside. There was no need for that kind of secrecy

anymore.

The young man touched Suzie White’s little blond head and

felt the healing energy emerge through his fingertips.

Immediately, Jon began having trouble catching his breath as if

he had just run laps around the hospital.

As for the little girl, her cheeks were already getting

rosier by the seconds. She opened her eyes and turned her head

to the sick man sitting next to her.

“Thank you, sir,” she said.




Nurse Bellehumeur brought both hands to her heart; she

couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.

“What’s going on?” asked Jim Theriault.

“Your son did this,” answered his wife.

“Did what?”

“Cured the little girl.”

Jim felt the hair stand on the back of his neck. His mouth

became dry, as though he had just taken a mouthful of hot sand.

“But...how?”

Margaret Theriault didn’t have time to explain: Suzy White’s

parents walked into the room with a devastated look on their

face. They were just beginning to deal with something no parent

in the world should ever have to deal with.

They saw Jonathan resting his head on Suzie’s bed and their

little girl gently stroking his balding head. The look of

helplessness in The Whites’ eyes changed to that of a puzzled

one.

“Please,” said Margaret. “It’s all right. Your daughter’s

all right, bless her.”

The Whites held each other and watched the miracle

materializing before them.

Annie slid her hands under Jonathan’s arms.

“I’ll help you up. You need to get back to bed.”

“Suzie will be fine.”




“I don’t know what you did Jon -- but you need to rest.”

In the nurse’s helping embrace, Jonathan tried to lift a

hand to touch her hair. But he was rendered too weak to do such

a simple gesture.

“Annie...I can’t stand up.”

Jonathan’s flesh had suddenly turned waxy-pale, almost

translucent.

“We’ll get help...we’ll --”

Jim moved to help the nurse.

“Please, dad. Not now. Annie...I’m sorry, but we’ll have

to pass on the ice cream.”

“That’s all right, Jon.”

“I love you.”

“Jon -– please.” Annie began crying.

“Thanks for everything,” he added.

Jonathan slightly shifted his head to his parents. He was

completely blind now.

“Mom, dad -– I’m cold.”

Heartbroken, Margaret sat next to her son and took him in

her arms. She felt his icy forehead on her face. Jim stood

beside them, wiping his eyes filled with tears.

“You were right, honey,” whispered Margaret in her son’s

ear. “Everything will be just fine.”

“Thanks mom.”




Then Jonathan managed a faint smile. His last.

#

Years later, Suzie White looked at herself in the mirror of

her bedroom.

“Perfect,” she said.

She adjusted her red and white cheerleader outfit, grabbed

her pom-poms, and trotted out of the room. Entering the

kitchen, she stopped in front of the fridge. A calendar was

held to its door by a circle-shaped Lion King magnet. Suzy

looked at today’s date: May 2nd, 2023. In the corresponding

square was written: “Regional Cheerleading Championships”. She

kissed her index and middle finger and tapped the date on the

calendar with them.

“Let’s kick ass,” she said.

Suzie walked into the living room and looked around.

“Mom! Where are you?”

Suzie’s mom didn’t answer. The young girl went to the

sliding door at the back of the house, opened it, and stepped

out into the backyard. Mrs. White was an avid gardener; Suzie

figured she must be on her knees, wearing that stupid purple hat

and those awful-looking gardening gloves, planting flowers or

vegetable seeds.




The young girl did see her mom on her knees in the garden,

but she wasn’t gardening. She was mumbling something.

“Mom?”

“Oh, baby,” said Mrs. White as she turned around to look at

her daughter with tearful eyes. “Look at that poor little

thing.”

In front of Suzy’s mother lay a dog caked in blood.

“Oh my God,” said Suzy, dropping her pom-poms and kneeling

next to her mom. “What happened to him?”

“Her.”

“Oh, look at her. She must be in pain...poor thing!” Suzy

began sobbing.

The little female golden retriever couldn’t have been more

than a month old. She had bite marks all over her, along the

sides of her body and on her face. Her tongue hung lazily

halfway out of her mouth. Suzy could see the dog’s chest

pumping air in and out at an alarming rate. It began whining as

it strained to look at the humans with agonizing eyes.

“Oh no,” cried Suzy. “Another dog must have attacked her,

right mom?”

“I don’t know, Sue. A fox, more likely. Or a coyote.”

Immediately, the cheerleading competition left Suzy’s mind.

The girl lifted her head and stared at the trees that quickly

thickened for about half a mile behind the house. Suzy’s




parents had never considered putting up a fence, for they

enjoyed the freedom of being able to walk straight into the

forest from their backyard.

The girl’s mind projected images of what might have happened

to the pup: a coyote sneaking out from the cover of the trees

and snatching the helpless little creature, probably left

unattended by a careless owner.

Hot anger rose in Suzy’s throat.

“We have to do something! Let’s bring her to the vet.

She’s still alive! There’s still a chance!”

Although the mom knew the young female dog was beyond help,

she said, “Okay, baby. Let’s do that.”

Without thinking about how the dog might react to her, Suzy

moved to grab it. The dog stiffened for a fraction of a second

to Suzy’s touch, and then completely froze as it felt the bolt

of heat that raced from Suzy’s hands electrify its weakened

heart.

The dog whined once, tried to get up, then slumped again on

the garden dirt.

Suzy’s head immediately felt as light as a helium-filled

balloon. She staggered backwards and fell on her backside. Her

mom looked at her and saw her daughter’s complexion turn pale.

“Suzy, baby...Are you okay?”




“What happened?” the young girl asked, pressing a fist

against her thudding heart.

Suzy’s mom was about to say something when –

Woof!

The teenage girl and her mom jumped.

Woof!

Both turned to look at the dog.

Woof! Woof!

The young golden retriever sat on its hindquarters, looking

straight at both mother and daughter with playful eyes. It

trotted towards Suzy, climbed onto her legs, and yapped once

more.

“Look at her!” said Suzy. “She’s okay!”

The cuts and bite marks on the dog had completely healed.

Only the bloody stains remained.

But amazement turned to confusion as shivers covered Suzy’s

body. She looked at her mom, eyes tearing up. “Mom...what

happened?”

Before she could answer anything, Mrs. White blinked when

images of a much younger Suzy in her hospital bed flashed

through her mind.

Ten years ago, leukemia had triumphed over her daughter’s

young body. Then a miracle had happened and for Suzy’s mother,

there had always been just one explanation: that young man,




Jonathan his name was, had cured her. Mrs. White and her

husband, along with a few others, knew that as fact. Now it was

time to tell the story to Suzy. And tell her that, in all

evidence, she had inherited Jonathan’s gift.

That realization brought tears to the mother’s eyes;

although she should find it wonderful, the thought of her own

child possessing such a power terrified her. Would there be a

price for Mary to pay for that ability? Had Jonathan’s cancer

been just a coincidence?

“Let’s go back inside and grab a cocoa,” she finally said.

“There’s something we should talk about.”

“Can I keep the dog?” asked Suzy.

“Of course, love. I don’t see why not.”

“I wanna call the dog ‘Hope’”.

“‘Hope’? You think it’s a good name for a dog?”

“Sure it is, mom.”

After considering the name and its implication for a few

seconds, Mrs. White said, “Yeah, I think so too.”

Suzy cradled Hope in her arms and followed her mom inside

the house.

<<<<<>>>>>

the healing touch of jonathan theriault

Documents