by S S Bazinet
Stop being such an alarmist with this Carol business. She invited you to a diner named after condiments. How bad could that be?
He gave himself an order. He needed to go to bed, get some sleep, and stop being a self-absorbed idiot.
* * * * *
Hours later, Arel woke up with a message. The words were streaming through his head, ticker tape fashion, over and over again.
You don’t have to be stuck forever. Go meet Carol.
As evening drew near, as the bell tolled, he couldn’t resist the mental memo. A surge of courage fired through his body, and he decided to take the challenge. After his shower, he slid open the doors to his closet and stared at the garments. When was the last time that he dressed to go out to meet someone? His mind drew a blank.
As he went over his choices, his hand moved to a Zegna sports jacket. It would go well with a button-down shirt and dark slacks. Impulsively, he reached for a tie and stopped, reminding himself that he was expected at a café.
Try to fit in, dammit.
After he finished dressing, he took a last look at himself and scoffed. But he wouldn’t let his physical failings stop him at this point. He’d made his decision and would stick to it. He did push his shoulders back a little. He also tried to maintain a more erect posture as he started for the living area. Michael and Abrigail were waiting for him there. A little earlier, he had given them the news about going to meet Carol. Now, they were like parents preparing to send their kid off to his first prom. Of course he’d never gone to a prom, but he still felt a little like their kid on parade when he stood in front of them.
“Do I look alright?” he asked.
Sitting on the sofa next to Michael, Abrigail smiled as soon as she saw him. “You’re very handsome.”
“Are you sure?” He didn’t know why he was asking an angel for an opinion? What did Abrigail know about such things?
“Abrigail is right,” Michael chimed in. “You look great.”
Arel took a deep breath. “I know that I said I wouldn’t meet Carol, but I’ve reconsidered. I know how her mind works. She’ll be fretting like some misguided mother hen if I don’t show up. So I’ll meet with her, let her know that I’m perfectly fine, and then I’ll never see her again. She’ll have closure.”
Abrigail nodded. “That’s true.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. I better be going.”
* * * * *
After Arel left, Abrigail turned to Michael. “He looks different.”
It’s his hair.” Michael smiled when he thought about Arel’s dark locks. They were still damp when Arel left the house. They were also combed straight back from his forehead, giving him the more classic vampire appearance that one saw in the movies. “When he was talking to Carol and told her about his hair being unruly, she suggested using gel. I think he used a little too much.”
Abrigail’s eyes brightened with mirth. “You’re right, I’m used to seeing him look like a truant schoolboy.”
“Yes, and our truant schoolboy is on a mission.”
“He was so sure about staying home. Tell me how you managed to get him to even consider going out tonight?”
“Surprisingly, he kept his shields down while he was napping. I had the opportunity to slip in a few ideas while he slept. He seems very taken with the thought of closure, but I think his curiosity is helping to motivate him. He wants to see what Carol looks like.”
“So you think this meeting is a good idea?”
“Arel’s at a crossroads. If he doesn’t go, he’s going to feel even worse about himself. He may retreat back to his bed for good this time.”
“But Michael, I’m getting a very unsettled feeling about it all.”
“I know, and your feelings are well founded. I was given a glimpse of what might be coming. Key events could be set in motion with this meeting. If that happens, the only thing we can do is be there for him. We’ll have to help him stay afloat when the storm hits.”
Twenty-Four
THE BOOTH CAROL and Peggy had chosen was across from the diner’s entrance. Carol had an excellent view of everyone entering and exiting the establishment. She kept alternately glancing at the door and checking her watch. Arel was late. Would he show up? She bit her lip and gave Peggy a look of concern. “I hope that Arel’s okay. He was always on time when we met online.”
Peggy looked very elfin in a size four, apple green top. But when she shook back her red hair, there was a scowl on her face. “I’m sorry, and I don’t want to be negative, but maybe he’s a jerk after all.”
“Don’t start, please.”
“I just want you to know that I’m here to support you. That’s all.”
Carol let out a sigh. Maybe Peggy was right. But when she checked the door again, her breath caught. She gestured towards the entrance. “Oh my goodness, it’s him. I’m sure of it.”
Peggy turned around, her dark eyes flashing in the direction that Carol indicated. “That guy?” She squinted, scanning the man from head to toe. “Very well dressed. But why do you think it’s him?”
Carol hesitated. In her daydreams, she’d imagined Arel as strong and well-built. But deep down, she’d felt a different, more sensitive type of person on the other end of their conversations. The man at the door to the diner fit that description. “You get a feel for a person after you interact with them for awhile.”
“Wow, he’s kind of cute, what there is of him.”
Carol held up her hand and waved. “Arel? Over here,” she called out, trusting that she was right.
Her summons seemed to work. The hauntingly, slender man stopped instantly in his tracks. For a long moment, he didn’t seem able to move. He stared back with wide, blinky eyes. When Carol smiled and waved again, it helped to get him moving. He nodded and started walking in her direction. His eyes darted back and forth nervously, and he nearly tripped over another patron’s foot that was partially stretched out in the aisle.
Carol and Peggy both had a knee-jerk moment of motherly concern.
“I think that I owe you an apology,” Peggy said. “I don’t want to sound demeaning, but when I look at your guy, I get the feeling a tenth grader could take him out.”
Carol bit her lip again. “I know, maybe that’s why I thought we should meet. He probably needs a friend.”
* * * * *
Arel continued towards a table on the far wall of the diner. He knew his face was turning a bright red. Thankfully, he recovered his bearings after tripping. When he’d arrived at the diner, he’d tried to tell himself that he was very capable of exchanging a few words with the person he’d gotten to know online. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t cooperating. As soon as he saw Carol, it went into a “duck and cover” mode. While he was checking out everything to his left and right, he tripped over a foot stuck out in front of him.
Hell and damnation! I’m off to a good start.
A part of the problem was seeing that Carol hadn’t come alone. She had a friend. He was sure it was a woman named Peggy. She fit the description Carol had given. The small and cute parts were fine. But Carol also talked about how judgmental Peggy could be. It’s just what he needed, a disapproving busy-body.
You only have to stay long enough to meet Carol and then you can leave. But you are not going to turn and run.
The stern order that he gave himself had to be repeated as he continued towards the booth. The short distance seemed almost impossible to navigate. He was battling two stiff legs and a body that had lost all fluid motion.
You look like an idiot. At least try to smile.
He managed to make his mouth comply with a modest expression of pleasure as he walked the last ten feet to the booth. He was greeted as soon as he reached his destination.
“Hi, I’m Carol,” one of the women offered cheerfully. “I’m so glad that you could make it.”
Carol’s smile made ten of his. He quickly worked his jaw, loosening it enough to speak. “Yes . . . I’m . . . I’m
Arel. It’s very nice to meet you,” he said glancing around. He normally lived in a quiet, fixed setting. As soon as he’d left his familiar sanctuary, his senses had become acute. Standing in the middle of a well-lit, noisy diner, the feedback was overwhelming. People laughed too loud, a waitress moved past him too quickly, and Carol was eyeing him like he was a newly discovered species from the ocean depths. He forced himself to ignore it all long enough to stand in place and greet her. She was even prettier than he’d expected, with blond hair and an open, caring face.
“And this is my friend, Peggy,” Carol said.
His attention shifted to Carol’s companion and stalled. As soon as their eyes connected, he felt his body stiffen even more if that was possible. His eyes wouldn’t disengage. “I know you.” The words slipped out of his mouth without his permission. They were accusing words that matched the painful distrust that had hold of his gut.
The petite redhead reacted too. At first, her face went blank, then questioning, and finally angry. “How do you know me?” she demanded.
He stepped back as she studied him. “Lovely red hair, delicate, pretty. Carol’s talked about you many times,” he explained. Again the words rolled off his tongue just as mysteriously as when he’d said that he knew her.
Peggy remained unappeased. In the brief silence that followed, her disapproval dominated the small space they occupied. It was enough time for Arel to understand her better. In a flash of clarity, he took in her personality. Peggy was the pushy type. She was the kind of woman who goaded a person when they needed to be left alone. If there was a scary basement, where all the ghosts and spooks were kept, Peggy would be the type who pushed a person towards the stairs and beyond. There was one word to describe her. She was dangerous.
His instinct was to distance himself, to flee from the table and from the diner. But he had to ignore that instinct. A policy of etiquette demanded that he be polite, even if it meant sacrificing his own comfort and safety. That kind of proper conduct had been drummed into his brain from the moment he was old enough to sit at the family’s formal dinner table where every piece of silverware was carefully positioned, where he was taught to sit straight and never utter a complaint. “I’m sorry, did I offend you?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to say things that were inappropriate.”
Peggy reined in her gaze. “Never mind,” she said in a huff. Her eyes shifted from his face to her drink. She reached for it with a shaky hand, as if the sweet contents in her glass could return her to a more soothing reality.
Carol eyed Peggy with concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Peggy insisted. She even tried to laugh as she peeked at Arel again. “You’re really just a lamb, aren’t you? One that got lost along the way.”
Carol leaned in towards Peggy. “What are you talking about?”
Peggy shrugged. “I don’t know . . . nothing,” she whispered as she sucked up her coke. The first mouthful caused her to choke and then spray the table with a small shower of soda.
Carol immediately came to her aid, reaching for napkins. She gave Peggy several and then began to mop up the table.
Arel stood watching, feeling like he should help too, but he couldn’t. His body was consumed by a crazy feeling that they were all doomed.
What is my problem? Her drink went down the wrong way? What’s the big deal? Sit down, you lunatic.
He glanced at the booth. It looked tight, claustrophobic, but he forced himself to try out its lack of space. He let his body slide down the slick upholstery, still watching Peggy recover. He finally came to an uneasy ‘butt meets vinyl’ seating arrangement. But as soon as Peggy looked back at him, his eyes dropped to the table.
“Sorry about that,” Peggy said.
He kept his eyes averted. “I just wanted to stop in long enough to apologize to Carol again, but I better get going.”
He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs wouldn’t expand. What the hell was he doing? How did he talk himself into coming? He had to get away so he could breathe again. He wasn’t being a coward. He simply had to get some oxygen.
“No, please, don’t go yet,” Carol moaned. “I’ve looked forward to meeting you for a long time.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I feel awkward about all this. Maybe we can do it again another time.”
He had to take charge of the situation. He’d tried his best, but the close proximity of the two, strange women was too much. With relief, his body was in motion again, sliding out of the booth. “Carol, thanks for your kindness. I’m so glad that you’ve met this fellow, Kevin, right?”
Peggy came alive as soon as he was on his feet, staring up at him with the most animated eyes he’d ever seen.
“Don’t be silly!” she said as she reached out and clasped his hand, pinning it to the table.
The gesture was paralyzing.
No! Don’t!
A nightmare flash blotted out the diner. He was standing in darkness, bound tight, helpless to stop what was about to happen to him. He knew he’d never escape the horrors that were waiting for him. The petrifying moment lasted almost forever before a waitress rescued him. After she came over to the table, her presence was enough to make Peggy pull back, releasing him from her grasp and the nightmare. He stood shaking, almost whimpering, and clutching at his hand. It was hot and painful, like Peggy had branded him with her touch.
“Are you alright, sir?” the waitress asked, shielding him from Peggy, giving him the full focus of her blue eyes. They were so reassuring. He felt immediate relief.
Abrigail? Is it you?
His query was soundless, but the waitress smiled an acknowledgement.
Don’t worry. Michael and I are here for you.
She was right. He thought he caught a glimpse of Michael sitting a couple of booths away. He tried to connect with the angel.
It’s not Carol and Peggy doing this to me, is it? This is the blood again.
When Michael looked away without answering, Arel was left with the feeling of how ridiculous he’d been behaving with the two women. Now Abrigail ignored him too as she played out the part of the dutiful employee.
“How are you ladies doing?” she asked with pen poised over a paper pad. “Jeanie had to take a call. I’m taking over for her for a few minutes. Can I get something else for you?”
“Nothing more for me,” Peggy said as she busied herself with her straw.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Carol said.
Abrigail looked at him again. “Can I get you something, sir?”
“No, thank you.” He was going to add, “I’m leaving,” but the dismal look on Carol’s face stopped him. She’d been so happy when he arrived. Now she was confused and miserable, something that he’d never intended. Peggy was equally, if not more, dejected. She sat staring at the table with a blush of red on her cheeks. His reaction had obviously made her sorry that she was there.
“Carol, Peggy, could we start over? I feel like a complete fool,” he said as he slowly sat down again. He did remain perched very close to the edge of his seat, just in case.
Both women glanced up at him at the same time. Both of them looked relieved.
“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat or drink?” Carol asked. “Their pie is delicious.”
He shook his head, “No, nothing for me. I just had a big dinner. I couldn’t eat another thing.” Trying to smile again, trying to start over, he ran his hands through his combed back hair, disrupting its smooth style, allowing it to break free of form. As his hands came away, his thick wavy, dark locks fell forward into their normal pattern, gracing his forehead as they usually did.
“I’m sorry . . . if I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Peggy said quietly, looking at her soda as she spoke.
Her voice was so genuine, so contrite that he nervously put his hands on the table, as if to show her that he knew he’d misjudged her. “You’re very kind to say that.”
Peggy’s face finally eased into a weak smile. “I li
ke your English accent.”
“I was born in England, but that was a long time ago. I didn’t think I spoke with a discernable accent anymore.”
Carol laughed. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you sound like you just arrived.”
Peggy carefully pushed her glass to the side. “I always loved guys from abroad. They have that fascinating Euro feel.”
“Sorry, no Euro feel here,” he announced apprehensively, not wanting to feel different. “I’m all American.”
“Of course,” Peggy said.
For a moment, all three went quiet.
“This is yummy,” Carol exclaimed as she sipped the remains of her shake enthusiastically.
He could tell that she was simply making conversation. Inwardly, he smiled.
That’s the Carol I know.
When they had chatted online, if there was an awkward pause between messages, he could always count on her to salvage the moment. Now he knew why he’d come to meet her. He wanted to experience her first hand. Yet, he’d hardly let himself look at her, except for that initial glance.
Hell, just what I was afraid of. She’s so lovely. And that smile. I already know it. I could feel it in her messages.
He turned his attention to Carol’s gestures, to the way she tossed her hair to the side when she spoke to Peggy. She wasn’t just pretty, she was beautiful, just as Justina had been beautiful.
She reminds me of Justina.
His body froze at the possibility.
No! Tell me it’s not my Justina!
He knew that it could be true. Justina could have reincarnated. She could have come back and be sitting across from him at this very moment.
Is that why I’ve been so insanely nervous since I got here?
On some soul level did he know that Carol was his former, one true love? He glanced in the direction of the booth where he thought he saw Michael sitting, but there was no one there.
“You look a little pale, Arel. Are you feeling okay?” Carol asked, leaning in towards him.
Shaken by his latest thoughts about who Carol might be, he was sure that he was wearing a zombie face. His eyes were stuck in a frozen glare, and his mouth was probably hanging open. He swallowed hard and tried to pull himself together. “No, I’ve had a flu bug. I thought that I was over it, but I guess I’m not. I have to go.”
