Washing Wheat
I had been an angel who fell from heaven. When I first arrived in the human world, I had no memories and could not tell a red light from a green one.
Evelyn Sheridan took me home. She taught me how to dress and how to eat, and she taught me to call her my wife.
In our first year of marriage, I handed a guest a glass of dish soap to drink, and she laughed and smoothed it over for me.
In the second year, I spent half the night chatting with a goldfish a guest had given us, and her expression stayed dark all evening.
By the third year, she no longer smiled at me.
She began bringing home a man named Hudson Lowry more often. She said he had a terminal illness and needed my blessing.
I agreed. Each time I blessed him, my hair fell out in clumps and my limbs went weak.
That continued until Adeline Wray, the woman next door, broke down our door and got me out of the basement while I was unconscious.
She told me that the winter she was eight years old, she had nearly frozen to death under a bridge, and a warm light had saved her. "That light smelled exactly like you."
She had me treated, bought me tailored suits unlike anything I had ever worn, and settled me into the best apartment she owned.
However, she never let me have contact with anyone else. She gripped my wrist and spoke as gently as if she were coaxing a child. "Your kindness belongs to me and no one else. Be good for me."
The night I nodded, I heard Evelyn's voice coming from Adeline's study. "The bone marrow results came back in time for next week. He's a perfect match for Hudson. Adeline, keep him happy. Do not let him get away."
Adeline stayed quiet for a long time. When she finally spoke, she said only a few words. "I know. After the surgery, he's mine."
Moonlight spilled in through the window, and I saw the needle bruises scattered along my arms.
From beginning to end, I had never been anyone's husband.
I had only ever been the cure.