Proof of Angels Read Online Free Page A

You’re a goddamn tank, for Christ’s sake. You’re lucky you’re going to be able to walk. This is one of life’s wins. Take it.”
    â€œSo I’ve got no other options?”
    â€œSean, you know we can’t put you back on an engine or a ladder. You can still be in the department. You’ll always be a brother to us. You’ll get full benefits. You’ll be able to feed yourself. Take care of your family.”
    â€œI don’t have my own family to take care of,” Sean said curtly.
    â€œWell, now you’ll finally find some time to change that, won’t you?”
    Sean swallowed hard. He was thirty years old. He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in eleven years. Most of his buddies in the department were married and had kids already or were on their way. He’d spent his twenties taking care of his nephewwith his sister—and he was well aware it was her family, not his. Besides, she had married and moved on. And what were his chances now of starting a family? Of even thinking about it? Who would find him attractive now? Useful? His face and neck were half burned off. His hands were basically useless to him now. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he’d laugh. So he joked instead.
    â€œYeah sure, Captain. I’ll get right on that. I am sure girls will be lining up down the hall as soon as they hear a disfigured burn patient who can’t walk is ready to start a family. Get me a profile started on Match.com.”
    â€œSean, I didn’t mean to . . . ,” the captain said, trying to apologize.
    â€œNah, it’s all right. I am joking. I’m joking.”

Chapter 3
    S EAN WOKE UP AT 4 A . M . H E COULDN ’ T FALL BACK TO sleep. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to unless he made the dreaded call. All he had to do was buzz the night nurse in and have her bring over a phone and a pen so he could put it between his lips and use it to punch the numbers. But he couldn’t bring himself to call Gaspar. It had been months since they’d spoken, when Gaspar called to tell him his sister was expecting twin boys who were due any week now. He’d be an uncle again. And the only time Sean had spoken to Gaspar or his sister before that was to congratulate Gaspar and his sister on the birth of another boy, their second in just three years of marriage. Three pregnancies in three years. Always the good Catholic girl . His sister didn’t waste any time.
    â€œWe have named him a noble and worthy name: Sean Magee Basu. Cathleen would like you to be his godfather,” Gaspar announced with his usual Indian accent and formality to Sean when his first child with Cathleen was born.
    â€œWhat were you thinkin’? It’s got no ring to it! How’s he gonna catch the ladies with a name like that? Should have named him after you,” Sean joked.
    Gaspar took it as the best compliment he would ever get from his friend. “He’ll do just fine. Like his uncle. I assure you. Now come home. Meet him. Your sister worries about you.”
    â€œWhat else is new?”
    â€œThat’s not fair. She has a right. You give her no reason to think you’re fine. You don’t call. You don’t write. You don’t visit. Poof. It’s like you disappeared.” Sean could even picture Gaspar using the hand gestures of a magician on the other end of the phone, when he said “Poof.” Gaspar Basu had a tendency to speak every word as if delivering a Shakespearean soliloquy on a stage to a jam-packed theater of eager audience members.
    â€œDon’t be so melodramatic, Gaspar. I am fine. I go to work every day I am scheduled. On time. I go to meetings every day. Haven’t had a drop in over three years. I haven’t set foot in a bar. I go to the beach now. I took up surfing and fishing. You should see me, Gaspar. Cutting up the waves . . .”
    â€œI’d love to. You should invite us all out to see your