Elena Andreevna was staring intently at the features of her son’s face. “What’s happening to you, Maximka? You have helped so many regain their health, yet you do not strive to get well yourself?” she mused. Maxim lay motionless, his eyelids tightly closed. His face remained completely serene, not a single muscle betraying any emotion.
A private room had been prepared for Maxim Petrovich. And the reason was not due to some special status, although… In a certain light, he indeed represented value to the medical institution. For nearly two decades, this man had devoted himself as a surgeon at this very hospital. Moreover, he was not an ordinary specialist, but a highly qualified doctor, renowned even beyond the confines of their town.
From an early age, Maxim had been distinguished by his kind and even-tempered nature. All the neighbors marveled at how diligently he tried to help his parents.
Their family had moved to this city when the child was ten years old. Often, local women would ask Elena Andreevna, “Lenochka, tell us, how did you manage to raise such a wonderful son? Our little brats not only ignore help but constantly end up spoiling things.” Elena would smile shyly, “There’s no special approach. We did nothing extraordinary. Maxim is simply naturally this way.” The neighbors, however, felt a tinge of resentment.
Everyone wished that their own children might resemble Maxim even a little, though they realized it was too late to start proper upbringing. Elena, however, was hiding something. In truth, there was one significant factor behind their excellent relationship with their son. It wasn’t even simply a matter of having acquired an heir at a relatively mature age…
Maxim was an adopted child. At first, they had merely become acquainted with a boy from the orphanage, developed a friendship, and then realized they could not imagine life without him. When they came to take him, the child initially hesitated. But then he burst into tears and declared that they would never regret their choice. And indeed, he lived up to his word—with awards, incentives, and words of gratitude.
Maxim grew up as an exemplary child, and later as an exemplary young man. After receiving his diploma during a celebratory meal, Petr Sergeevich inquired, “Well then, my boy, what are your plans for the future?” Maxim set aside his cutlery, looked at his parents, and said, “I was just about to consult with you. You see, I have always been curious about how healers and various herb doctors manage to cure people.”
“In other words, I do not fully trust all this nonsense, of course, yet I have no grounds for that distrust. There is a village far away that needs a specialist for its local clinic. And somewhere nearby lives some herbalist who supposedly can heal everyone with a single gesture. I am convinced it’s all mere gossip, but… anyway, I want to go there and work.”
“After all, besides being a surgeon, I am also simply a doctor. It is an opportunity to gain more experience. There, a medical worker plays the roles of surgeon, therapist, gynecologist, and ENT specialist—all at once. But only if you don’t mind.” Maxim fell silent and looked at his parents. Elena sighed. She had always cleared the way for her son, yet she was completely unprepared for a prolonged separation.
Petr Sergeevich also became pensive and then said, “You know what, son? Go ahead. You are right that a doctor must be versatile. This way, you will test yourself. In such hospitals, there isn’t even proper bandaging material, let alone something more essential. Just be prepared for serious challenges.”
“I am ready, father. I even crave these hardships. I want to overcome everything.”
Elena began to tear up, “For a long time?”
“Mom, I plan for three years, perhaps even longer. And then we’ll see. But I’ll come back during every break.”
He did return. The first time he came back, he was cheerful, tanned, carrying many gifts and stories. But the second time, he returned a completely different person—sad and depressed. When Elena saw him at the doorway, she nearly fainted.
“Maximka, my God, you are ill!”
He smiled, “No, Mommy, I’m fine.”
Elena Andreevna could tell that something strange was happening with her son. And Petr Sergeevich had noticed as well, though he then told her, “Don’t interfere, my dear—it seems to be love troubles.” After Maxim left on his trip, Petr Sergeevich himself fell ill. He caught a cold on his ill-fated fishing trip. At first, he hid it all from her.
But then, when he could no longer get up, Elena called for emergency help. She phoned Maxim. He managed to reach his father and even uttered a few words. And that was it. He left the room darker than a storm cloud. Elena understood everything. Her vision darkened—and if not for Maxim, she would have collapsed. Maxim immediately returned, “We will exist together. We will support each other.”
Such was the course of their lives. Maxim spent all his time within the hospital walls. Day and night, he performed surgical interventions. He took on clinical cases so complex that the chief physician could only grasp his head and, as he put it, had even mastered the art of prayer. Elena was deeply troubled, for her son had returned a completely different person. An attractive young man. A prestigious profession—in any case, the healer, especially one as competent as he, was always respected, yet there was no familial well-being. Perhaps he had some romantic liaisons, but nothing serious. No matter how many times Elena Andreevna raised the topic—it was beyond counting. The answer always remained the same: “Mom, aren’t we fine just the two of us?”
“Maximka, I am not talking about that. You’re well over thirty now, and you have neither a spouse nor children.”
“But one can choose to remain single. Mom, why must a person necessarily have a life partner and a child?”
“What do you mean by ‘why’?”
Elena was at a loss. “It’s only proper. That’s the way it’s meant to be.”
Maxim smirked, “Then we shall defy established notions.”
“I don’t understand. Why enter into marriage merely for that?”
Elena could only sigh. “Try convincing modern youth—everyone has their own opinions on everything.”
And that he was nearly forty did not seem to matter at all. Maximka… Elena managed to rise with difficulty. Tomorrow morning she would come again, and once more spend the entire day by her son’s side.
“Elena Andreevna, may I have a word?”
She looked at the chief physician. Elena Andreevna had known all the hospital staff for a long time, and they knew her well too. Good, compassionate people worked here.
“Speak, Mikhail; you haven’t come here without reason.”
“No, Elena Andreevna, not without reason.”
He looked her straight in the eyes. “You know perfectly well that if I were not Maxim’s mother, I would have remained silent. Go back to him, say your goodbyes. His indicators are deteriorating rapidly. We are powerless to do anything; the damage is too extensive, but… we will fight until the end. Although we have already done everything possible. Now only a miracle can help.”
Elena was the mother of a medic. She understood that her son’s chances of recovery were virtually nil.
“Thank you, Mikhail. I will return.”
“Only briefly. We have a consultation in half an hour.”
Elena sat down on a chair beside her son.
She could hear a cleaning woman pushing a mop somewhere nearby. There were conversations—just background noise. Now, for her, only Maxim existed. She tried to imprint every detail of his face in her memory. “Maximka, if you leave this world, then I will have no purpose here,” Elena quietly wept.
Maxim had always said that one must be resilient, and that crying should only occur when everything is over. However, what exactly “everything” meant, he never explained. Elena got up and headed for the exit. Her heart felt as if it were being torn apart with every step. “Please, wait! Please, wait!”
An object materialized before Elena. For a long time, she could not focus her gaze—tears blurring her vision—until she discerned a young figure dressed as a cleaning lady.
“To you… to you, Elena Andreevna,” the girl said as she lifted her chin with determination. “Elena Andreevna, please listen to me. I know this may sound insane, but allow me to help Maxim Petrovich.”
Elena’s eyes widened. “Girl, if this is a joke, it’s an extremely poor one. The best specialists at this hospital are powerless to help him, and you—a cleaning lady—are going to save him?”
“Exactly so. I will explain everything later. Do you understand? I have come from the locality where Maxim Petrovich once served. The fact is, there he had a serious quarrel with a woman whom the locals call a healer or something similar. They fought very seriously—because he refused to accept that what she saw was something that medics must study for a long time. And he left, because they… they could not see eye to eye. I am the daughter of that woman. I came here because of him.”
“I can provide assistance.”
“Because of him?”
“Yes. Elena Andreevna, I beg you. I will manage—I know what to do.”
Elena hesitated only a moment. If even the slightest, the faintest chance existed that Maxim might get better, that he might survive, she would seize it. And she asked abruptly, “What must be done?”
“Everyone must be kept out of the room until morning. Absolutely no one.”
“Me?”
“You may stay with me. Only blood relatives are allowed in the room.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
Mikhail was, to say the least, astonished. “Don’t you understand? Maxim might require an injection, oxygen support. What then?”
“Then I will turn to you.”
“Elena Andreevna, I understand you, but…”
“If you understand, then permit it. You are a doctor; you know perfectly well that my son cannot pull himself out of this situation.”
Mikhail lowered his gaze. “Alright. I will give the necessary orders.”
The girl’s name was Marina. A strange name for someone engaged in nearly magical practices. Or not nearly—perhaps it is exactly so.
Elena watched intently as Marina arranged light fixtures, containers of various herbs, as the girl sequentially set these herbs alight and continuously murmured something under her breath. Elena’s last thought was that she had trusted this stranger without considering that she might harbor ill intentions. Elena fell asleep, apparently lulled by the aroma of the herbs Marina had set aflame.
She awoke to the sensation of someone gripping her fingers tightly. Opening her eyes in astonishment, she saw that it was Maxim’s hand. She had always held his hand, but now that hand was no longer lifeless—it was squeezing her fingers.
“Maximka, he’s sleeping.”
Elena looked up. On the other side of the bed, Marina sat. The girl looked haggard—as if she hadn’t closed her eyes for several nights in a row. “He’s getting better.” Marina allowed herself a smile. “Yes, he is better; just let him rest a while longer. Do not call the medical staff yet.”
“Girl, who are you? Why did you say you came here because of Maxim?”
Marina sighed, “I will have to explain anyway. You see, Maxim Petrovich went to work there precisely because he learned about a healer. He had never met her, didn’t know how old she was, and when he arrived… in short, he met my mother in a shared taxi. A spark ignited between them. Maxim immediately confided all his thoughts to her, and she… she kept quiet about the fact that she is, in fact, the healer he recalled. Your son worked incredibly hard. He didn’t even always have time for my mother…
That is why for so long he never suspected that the herbalist he sometimes remembered was also his beloved—the very same person. My mother gave up everything for him. Once, when they were attending a village festival, an accident occurred—a boy got into trouble. Maxim rushed to help, called for emergency assistance, but whispered that it wouldn’t be quick enough. The boy’s parents, hearing this, fell at his mother’s feet. She could not refuse; she helped the child—but Maxim did not forgive her, either for the deceit or, as he saw it, the public shame. And soon he left those places. And then I was born. My mother only very recently told me the whole story, and I decided to find him. I thought there had been some mix-up, that everything might be corrected. Of course, much time has passed, but my mother still loves your son. That’s the story. And I came here, got a job as a cleaning lady at this hospital, and the very next day Maxim Petrovich was brought in after a car accident. I really wanted to ask forgiveness on behalf of my mother. She is proud; she will never be the first to offer explanations. Stubborn—and I am even more stubborn.”
Elena Andreevna shuddered, while Marina smiled, “Welcome back, Maxim Petrovich—I’ll call the doctors.”
Marina dashed out of the room, and Elena quietly wept, burying her face in her son’s hand. “Why are you crying? See, not everything has ended here. It turns out that not all is as clear-cut as it seems.”
Mikhail, along with all the medical staff, were in shock. It even appeared that the chief physician had lost his words. “I don’t understand… How…”
Marina placed a finger to her lips, and Elena Andreevna simply shrugged, “We were just praying.”
“Elena Andreevna, don’t tell me fairy tales—I’m a medic, not an imbecile.”
Three days later, Elena Andreevna was spoon-feeding her son. Maxim smiled and ate with an appetite.
He had already spoken with Marina, and Maxim even cried when he uttered the word “daughter.” They didn’t know what the future held. For now, the priority was Maxim’s recovery. The door to the room swung open, and a woman entered. She paused and looked at them, perplexed.
“Mom!”
Marina rushed toward her, and Maxim froze. Elena also stood up.
The guest smiled awkwardly, “Hello. I thought that perhaps you—or maybe your daughter—might need some help? Won’t you kick me out?”
Maxim looked at his mother, then at Marina, and replied, “We’re not letting you go. Don’t even hope for it.”
