Once a beautiful young doctor with a successful career ahead of her, Mary suddenly chose a different life, 20 years ago. She became a stay-at-home mother, dedicating herself entirely to her beloved newborn with special needs. She and her husband went from being a wealthy, double-income couple to single-income parents raising a child who required constant care.
Today is a special day for Mary. Her beautiful twenty-year-old daughter, Julia, is going out on a date with her first love—on her own. Maybe even staying out for the night for the first time.
They have been dating for almost a year, but because her handsome boyfriend has a mental disability, their relationship had always been under supervision. Now, with everyone convinced that these two are meant to be together, the decision has finally been made to let them discover the world on their own like a normal couple.
They both have stable jobs. The boy rents his own apartment, and he even drives—approved by his doctor, under specific conditions, for special occasions, and today is one of those rare days.
Mary patiently pushes Julia’s wheelchair all the way to the corner of the four-way intersection—the same place that once marked the beginning of her daily life, back when she used to head to the university or the hospital, before Julia was born. As they approach the corner, a black dusty little puppy suddenly jumps toward them, but still clumsy as a puppy, it slips, loses balance, and quickly pulls back.
When they reach the corner, Mary remembers her own relatively short, glorious days—when a taxi used to pick her up from that very same spot.
Her daughter is smart and strong now. She is in love, and is about to move in with the person she loves. On the other side, Mary’s younger daughter is preparing to take part in the National Gymnastics Olympics this year. And for the first time in many years, Mary finds herself with options again. She may return to her profession and step back into the career she once left behind. Or she may choose to enjoy an early kind of retirement, alongside the partner who walked with her through every step of the journey.
The handsome boyfriend pulls up his clean and shiny SUV to the corner right on time. Today, he looks better than ever and greets them warmly, like a true gentleman. If Mary didn’t already know him, she would never guess he had any mental difficulties. He has even adapted his car to be wheelchair-friendly for Julia—pure consideration.
He handles the entire process of boarding Julia and her wheelchair, with such precision that Mary realizes she has never been able to do it quite so well herself. Everything is smooth.
As her beautiful daughter lowers the window from the front seat to say goodbye, Mary can no longer hold back her tears. Everything has turned out better than she ever expected.
The Loneliness of the Return
However, once the car pulls away, a sudden sadness spreads through her, like a severe fever taking over her whole body. She turns around and starts walking back through the alley toward home.
What is this feeling? Like waking up from a long dream—and suddenly finding yourself a lonely, old woman, walking back to her lonely home, she wanders, once the same ugly puppy startles her, trying to put its little dirty paws on her pants.
Julia had been taking care of almost all her own needs lately. In fact, she was helping Mary with many things. The need for help had shifted from Julia to her mother a long time ago—but Mary hadn’t noticed it until this very moment.
She doesn’t get over that awful feeling and carries all that weight with her to bed in the night, lying beside her husband.
Life looks normal for everyone else, just like every other day—except for her. Julia had already called to let her know she would be staying at her boyfriend’s place. Mary’s old and sick mother also called, as usual, saying she might need to go to the hospital in the morning, as the old woman’s weekends routine.
Her husband seemed more excited about their younger daughter’s upcoming Olympic gymnastics competition than about Julia’s first night out. Before bedtime, he was making plans, trying to arrange everything so Mary and he could be present at the games. Just before falling asleep, he casually mentions the black puppy wandering around the neighborhood—half-joking, half-serious—saying maybe they should adopt it.
Mary keeps quiet. All of this makes Mary feel even worse. She can’t really sleep, and every time she closes her eyes, nightmares rush in.
Nightmare I: The Crash
She dreams that they have adopted the black puppy, and that it has grown into a huge, scary, ugly adult dog. She is trying to keep it under control, but it is incredibly difficult. Then she dreams that Julia is a baby again, crying helplessly in her arms. The baby suddenly turns into Mary’s own sick mother—just as small as baby Julia, but with white hair, an old face, and crying for Mary’s help.
She carries the crying baby in one arm and the dog’s leash in the other, walking toward the same corner that she left Julia. At the corner, it is busier than normal. People are walking by. Cars are passing. The dog keeps pulling, trying to sniff every passing person and it is almost impossible for her to control all that.
Someone comments on the baby’s white hair. When Mary tries to respond, the dog suddenly jerks the leash with great force and a loud crashing noise follows. A red motorbike, crashed right in front of her and skidded, dragging itself into the middle of the four-way intersection along with its two young riders. She immediately realizes the dog must have jumped toward the bike, causing them to lose control, and collapse.
People gather around the two bikers. No one notices the dog—or maybe they don’t care. It wasn’t her fault anyway. The bike had sped to the car stop, as if they were trying to steal something from her. They were almost hitting people on the station.
Regardless of who is at fault, as a physician she feels responsible. She pushes her way through the crowd, carrying the baby in one arm and struggling with the dog in the other.
She sees that the young chubby rider’s head is smashed open and he should be dead, while the taller, thinner young guy who was sitting in the back, is screaming in pain, his leg broken and almost detached. Mary tries to approach him, trying to help, but the guy panics at the sight of the dog. Crying, he crawls backward, trying to get away from it, and makes it impossible for Mary to help.
While this all is becoming unbearable for Mary, people around them don’t seem panicked at all. They stand, watch and talk. Mary feels terribly detached, like a ghost that no one notices her presence.
Nightmare II: The Victim
She suddenly jolts awake from her nightmare, panting heavily, and finds herself in her bedroom. A relief comes but switches to sadness once she remembers that Julia, her best friend, is not home, and no one is noticing it except her. Instead they are becoming more needy, thinking that the heavy load of Julia is off her shoulders now, and she is able to deal with sick mom and the puppy that the husband wants to adopt.
She goes out and walks to the very same corner to catch a cab and take her sick mother to the hospital, just as expected as Saturday's routine. Her head feels cloudy and dreamy. While waiting for the taxi, she calls her mother to tell her to be ready, hoping to save a little on the fare.
Her mother answers on the first ring.
— “Hi, Mom.” — “Hi, Mary.” — “Uh…”
Suddenly she feels a heavy impact on the side of her head that she is holding her phone on. She collapses, hitting the curb with her head.
A red motorbike with two young bikers, one short and chubby along with a tall skinny one sitting in the back, rode the motorbike dangerously to the car stop. The tall, skinny one reached out and snatched her phone from her ear. The speed of the bike and the force of the grab knocked her down. They take the phone and disappear, moving so fast that no one is able to notice their faces or anything.
Then she finds herself in the hospital that used to treat patients, but being herself the patient this time. She cannot move. She tries to scream but she can’t.
Then she finds herself in her own bedroom, but everything has changed. The room is filled with medical equipment: a hospital bed, assistive devices, and familiar machines to a physician who worked in a hospital. The air smells like disinfectant and urine. It feels worse than Julia’s room when she needed more care and was not able to leave the room.
She is completely paralyzed. She cannot move her arms or her legs. She tries to cry out, but even that feels impossible. The sound never fully comes.
Her husband enters the room carrying a bowl of the same special soup that needs no chewing, and he is supposed to warm in the microwave and feed her. He never seems to get the temperature right, though. Sometimes it’s too cold, or reverse too hot, which is worse. He has burned her mouth before.
For her husband this is normal. For her, nothing is. She isn’t used to this body—this stillness.
What could be worse than this?—she thinks.
Her husband places the bowl on the small table above her and trying to adjust her position, he tips over the hot bowl of soup on her face accidentally. Her eyelid cooks in no time like a beef slice in a Pho bowl. With that sudden, unbearable pain, she jerks awake, and morning light floods her eyes gently.
The Awakening
It was all a bad nightmare, inside another nightmare. She dreamed that she woke up from the first nightmare into the second nightmare, not realizing that she is still dreaming, but now being awake she can tell what was unreal and what was real. She can’t remember accurately, but she recalls the general plot of both nightmares. A story of people getting hurt, happening in the same setting, at the corner that she left Julia, with the only difference of thieves getting hurt at first, then herself being the victim in the second.
It is a bright, Saturday morning. She immediately reaches for her phone, checking her notifications to see if Julia tried to contact her during her first night out—any emergency, any missed call. Nothing. Everything is fine. The only text she received is from her mother saying that she is fine, and didn’t need to go to the hospital.
Her husband, as soon as he wakes up, smiles, and says the very first thing that comes to his mind:
— “Hey, no joke. What do you think about adopting a dog? It doesn’t have to be the black puppy in the alley. We could get a cute, small, white one that you would like and is easy to take care of.”
She suddenly starts remembering her nightmares and both dreams start playing in her mind like watching two dramas. She sees their difference. She turns to her husband, after that brief pause, and with a cute devilish smirk on her face, says:
— “Do you think I’m looking for something easy to take care of? I want the ugliest dog that everyone else is scared of and no one would adopt it.”
Something shifts between them. He looks at her differently—suddenly aware of her again, her presence, and warmth. He leans closer. The morning changes.
Then she lies there, flushed and breathing deeply, her body warm and her face burning. As a physician, she knows there is nothing wrong with all that at such a moment.
They suddenly remember the dog and worry what if it has gone by morning. They grab their robes, racing and knocking each other away, like teenagers, and run outside. The dog is still there, digging through the garbage, trying to find something for breakfast. They both feel relieved.
Her husband, pointing at the puppy:
— “This puppy will grow to a scary giant.”
The puppy turns and barks at a motorbike passing by at that moment, but too small to disturb the rider, then starts walking towards Mary.
She bends down to the puppy and says:
— “It’s an angel,”
She lifts it up to her arms.
— “My black angel.”