The Bird That Flew

chapter seventeen

As Stanislaus followed Tobias to Zoltan's hospital room, he'd receive enough dirty stares to last him for life. It did not bother him in the slightest, because all the old homeless man could think about was his dear friend who he was happy to know was alive.

When they entered the room, Tobias decided to ask Adelaide to go on a walk with him so Stanislaus could have some privacy with Zoltan. After they left, Stanialus stood near the door looking at his friend with sadness and pain in his eyes.

"You're okay?" Zoltan asked weakly as he noticed he was in the room. He tried to sit up but was quickly stopped by pain. "I was so worried about you."

Stanislaus felt pricked in his reins. How could Zoltan worry about him when he clearly should have worried more about himself?

"You should not worry about me," Stanislaus replied, distantly. "Why did you risk your life for me? Don't you know you could have been more injured--or dead now? You do not deserve this."

Zoltan remained silent and closed his eyes.

"I could have ran away and left you there all alone for those thieves to hurt you--but I didn't. Why? How couldn't I not have?"

"Because I am scum." the old homeless man said. "I deserve to be in that bed, not you."

"No. You have taught me how to stand up for myself," Zoltan began, "I can fly now because of you. The story about your friend--it helped me see I do not have to live in the fears of my father anymore."

Stanislaus's eyes grew wide.

"I told my father what I have needed to say this morning. I have stood up to him because of this event," Zoltan continued. "I am not afraid of him anymore."

"While you were being attacked, I hid in the church thinking I was safe," the old homeless man began, "I walked into the sanctuary and looked up at the cross. I had not stepped into a holy place since I was a boy. I thought the Lord would smite me on the spot, but instead, I found love. Thanks to you, son."

Zoltan smiled and closed his eyes, thanking God inside his heart.

"It was more than me," he replied. "If I had gone in the window after you, we would not have hid in the sanctuary, and you would not have found Him again."

A silence hung in the air. Soon the old homeless man spoke.

"I do not know what to say," he said.

"You don't have to say anything. We are friends. But I want to ask you something--"

"Yes?" The old homeless man listened in.

"You have to start coming to Mass with me every Sunday, and you must accept help from people who can help you." Zoltan told him.

Stanislaus stood there, unsure if he could keep the deal. He thought about all the times his friend kept his end of the deal when he would bring him food every Sunday, and it would only make sense that he does something in return to pay him back.

Stanislaus nodded, relunctantly.

"You dumme gans," he playfully said. "this was the Divine Plan all along, no?"

Zoltan nodded.

"I believe so, sir." he replied, jokingly.

They both shared a smile. A real, genuine smile. A smile that had been hidden for so long deep inside them, held back by pain and fear--now they felt safe enough to open up and share their joy with each other. Stanislaus walked over to Zoltan and squeezed his hand for strength and told him goodbye. Before he left the room, he turned and looked at him again.