by S S Bazinet
Her father scooped her up and tried to comfort her. He tried to stop her pitiful cries, but the harm was done. She’d learned something very important that day. She learned what could happen to a human being. Her mind had been branded with knowledge and a clear picture of the most horrible suffering.
Afterwards, little Peggy did everything in her power to protect herself. In many ways, she succeeded. As the years passed, she got stronger. The vision was buried, along with her interest in dolls. She wanted to be tough like the boys. Of course, her heart wasn’t closed to those she loved, or to the less fortunate. She looked out for those beings, human or animal, that couldn’t help themselves.
Now as the adult Peggy sat shaking in her car, waiting for the ambulance, she knew the scar from the past had been ripped open. She felt like the child again, unprotected, vulnerable. She also knew who was responsible for resurrecting her misery. As soon as Arel saw her in the diner, he acquainted her with the truth.
“I know you,” he said. His tone had been soft, barely a whisper. But sometimes, softness can be deceptive. As soon as Arel voiced those words, she felt his pain. It was the pain of helpless creatures being abused, body pain. It was also the kind of pain that occurs when hearts lose everything that they love.
She added to that pain when she reached out and touched his hand. Later, in the car, he retaliated. He did to her what she had done to him. But he didn’t grab her hand. When he gazed back at her in the rear view mirror, he took hold of her heart. He went straight to that place inside where she kept her deepest fears hidden. He ripped away everything that protected her from the truth.
Now, sitting in her car, she couldn’t escape those fears. Putting her hand on her heart, fresh tears surfaced, and she began to sob again. She wept for the young man in the vision, and for the man with golden eyes in the diner. She kept seeing him run from the place, crippled with fear. She cried for herself and the part she’d played in the horror that she’d seen in some distant past.
“Try not to think about it too much,” a voice whispered in her ear. It belonged to the woman who stayed with her as she waited for help. The lady squeezed her hand again as the sound of a siren got louder. “I know it’s hard, but he’s not alone and neither are you.”
“What?” Peggy asked. Her eyes went bright with questions. She tried to turn her head to look at the woman and cried out in pain. The woman disappeared as others rushed to her aid.
* * * * *
The woman let go of Peggy’s hand when the ambulance arrived. As the EMTs took over, she backed away and disappeared into the night. She literally disappeared because she wasn’t a woman at all.
For a short time Peggy’s angel, Glory, had assumed a human form, a friend-in-need form. She wanted to give her charge as much support as possible. The memory that Peggy was dealing with, was a core issue, one that had tainted many of her lives since its tragic origin.
You’re not alone, my sweet child. I’m watching over you.
Glory issued the message as she resumed her normal, angelic state. Ascending heavenward, her luminous body expanded into glorious rays of light that rained down like starry moonbeams on the situation below. It washed over Peggy as she was being helped by human hands. It surrounded the ambulance and the accident scene like a silver-pink halo.
A few moments later, Abrigail appeared next to Glory and added her own loving concern and healing brilliance to what was happening.
“Thank you for coming,” Glory said to her fellow angel.
“I understand how distraught Peggy is,” Abrigail replied. Her gaze filled with compassion as she watched the people gathered around the young, injured woman.
Glory let out a sigh. “Humans seem so fragile at times.”
“Yes, but they’re also amazingly strong in some ways. For so many lifetimes, Peggy and Arel have soldiered on in spite of everything. They’re two, very brave souls.”
“They’re souls that have been torn apart by the suffering that they endured in that pivotal lifetime that they shared.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“Oh dearest Abrigail, if only they could get beyond that terrible event.”
“Michael is trying to help them to find some resolution, to release what happened to them.”
“But pain has a way of distorting truth. I’m sure his job isn’t an easy one.”
Abrigail nodded in agreement. “No, it isn’t. We’ll all have to work together as pieces of the past come to the surface.”
Twenty-Seven
THE DRIVER'S SIDE window was down all the way on the black Mustang as Arel traveled west, away from the city. He took deep breaths, inhaling the pure, sweet smells of farmland. He gloried in the wind on his face as it ushered in a sense of freedom from the fearful, closed life he’d known. He was leaving all his worries behind, putting distance between himself and Carol, Peggy and the idea of angels. For a few hours, he could enjoy the wholesome fragrance of the earth and the starry heavens above.
He felt more at ease with each mile that slipped by. He didn’t have to hide in his house anymore. He didn’t have to double check the locks on the doors so that he could feel safe. Speeding along in the car, he could totally enjoy his last hours. Soon he’d be gone from the world.
A thought interrupted his reverie. “I hope the movies are right about what happens when a vampire meets the sun.” He recalled films that showed them burnt to a crisp. “I don’t want to traumatize some farmer if my body isn’t completely incinerated.”
Another rather terrible thought followed. What if the sun didn’t kill him, but only burned him and left him alive? What if Michael’s blood affected him in some crazy, unexpected way?
He lifted his chin higher and refused to think about it. He had to concentrate on what he was doing. He was on a happy flight to oblivion. Knowing that he could finally end it all was the most exquisite gift he could give himself. He wouldn’t spoil that gift with projections about Michael and his blood. Instead, he would appreciate the moment and the driving conditions. There was hardly anyone on the road. It’s what he’d dreamed about. He had a bit of the earth, or at least a bit of the highway, to himself. And it all felt new. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ventured so far from home.
Home is a beautiful word, but have I ever truly felt at home anywhere? Hell, I’ve always been a misfit, the one who didn’t belong.
But that didn’t matter now. He belonged to the night and to the welcoming feeling of something uninhibited. He put a foot to the brake and pulled off the road. He needed to put the top down on the car.
Why did I buy a convertible, or a sporty car for that matter, if I wasn’t going to enjoy it?
He knew the answer. Michael had practically dared him to do something different, to prove that he was sincere in his desire to change his life. He had complied hesitantly and bought the vehicle.
But Michael was right. I love the car.
As he undid the latches for the convertible top, he realized he was humming. It was a surprise. He didn’t know he could make such agreeable tones. It happened so naturally. He liked the idea that his body could do something pleasing for a change. He swung open the car door and stepped out with ease. Another surprise. His muscles were relaxed and able again.
The area was so quiet, such a contrast to the diner. He looked up and smiled. A black velvet void was overhead, dotted with countless, twinkling lights. Every star in the heavens seemed to be giving him its blessing. “I should have made this trip years ago.”
He pulled back the convertible top, secured it and got back in the car. He turned the key in the ignition and paused to enjoy the sound of the Mustang’s four hundred plus horsepower engine. In the past, he’d grown to like the car, but he’d never bonded with it. Now he had a chance to play, to be that driver who took control and put a car through its paces. “Show me what you can do,” he said as he boldly stepped on the gas.
* * * * *
An hour later, the Mustang sped effortle
ssly along the two lane highway. Arel had never felt so in touch with everything. His face was buffeted by the wind. His lungs enjoyed the sweet, damp air. Any residue from bad nerves was disappearing, being soothed away by the relative darkness all around him. As fertile fields rushed by on either side, his chest expanded with a newfound joy.
“Damn, I think I’m bonding with the dirt! And I’ll be part of it soon, ash that blows over the land. I’ll be scattered from here to Missouri.”
The center lines of the highway were guiding him to his goal. The pavement became his road to OZ. When he arrived at his destination, the wizard would be a bright, fiery ball called the sun. Long ago, as a boy, he loved the dawn. He stared at the purple and grey skies with a sense of expectancy. Sunrise meant that there was still hope in the world and warmth. Now sunrise would mean even more. It would bring release from pain, from guilt, from failure.
The night I became a vampire, I lost that orb of light forever. Now it will shine bright on me one last time.
Death would be fast, over in a few seconds. What were a few seconds after all he’d been through?
At least I hope it’ll be quick.
His moment of doubt made his heart beat faster.
No, don’t go there.
When he reflected on the past, it was all a farce. All those painful hours, days and years of being alive had been worthless. He was always battling depression and loneliness, always wishing for some respite and getting nothing but more misery. Now, he had an opportunity to experience a little happiness. He wouldn’t pollute his precious moments with old programs of panic. He wanted to enjoy the glorious comfort of the night, and the wonder of the machine that responded to his every whim. All he had to do was press the accelerator and the Mustang, like its namesake, flew across the flatlands. It was a thing of grace and speed that let him put miles between the living torment he’d endured and his new objective.
Dying will be the ultimate triumph.
A Zen-like smile began to slip into place, making his face as pure as it had ever been. An unspoiled, genteel smoothness replaced the frown lines. His smile remained unchanged when he thought of Carol’s eyes and her kindness. She became part of the night and the stars.
“Beautiful,” he said as he accelerated. “It’s all perfect when you’re free of the pain.”
With death only hours away, all his cares had vanished. Yet, he still had a few questions before he died, like why had he even been born? He pondered the idea for only a moment, then laughed.
“It doesn’t matter.” He shouted the words, let them fly off into the night. He loved the feeling that everything that frustrated him could be released at long last. One with the car, he asked it for more speed. It had no problem granting his request. Ninety-five miles per hour, one hundred? The Mustang responded without protest. “Yes, sir!”
The road was treacherous in spots. Navigating around the potholes at high speeds could be challenging. Even that seemed appropriate.
“Maybe I won’t need the sun. If I crash this car and it explodes, that will take care of my problems too.”
His eyes brightened with expectation when he thought about how he might be dead in a moment. But the miles rolled past him uneventfully. He was in his element. He’d always thought of his body as lacking, but his reflexes were excellent behind the wheel. For a guy who couldn’t stumble his way across the floor of an eatery, he was capable of fast braking and holding the road around turns. It was as if he’d been transformed. Freedom from a miserable life became a life-changing miracle drug for body and soul.
If only it could be bottled and sold at every local pharmacy, the whole world could find some peace.
A voice shattered his hopeful musings.
“This isn’t right, Arel!”
He glanced over at the passenger seat and nearly lost control of the car. Abrigail sat a couple of feet away. Her unexpected intrusion into his euphoric world made him swerve and hit the rutted shoulder. His body went into immediate survival mode, overriding his death wish. As his hands clutched the wheel and managed to get the car back onto the highway, an explosive anger was building in his gut.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” he yelled, giving the angel another fleeting glance. His entire body joined him in a rigid spasm of resentment. “How dare you interfere with my decision? Leave, now!”
“I can’t! I’ve come for your help,” Abrigail insisted.
His resentment turned into a rising, outburst of temper. He pushed the car harder. The readings on the speedometer climbed obediently. At least his vehicle responded to his wants.
Abrigail continued. “That woman that you met, Peggy, has had an accident. She’s in the hospital. She’s asking for you. Arel, you have to turn back.”
“I don’t care! This is my life, and I’m ending it today!”
He kept his eyes forward, focused on his task. He was a seeker of freedom, a person who’d been tested to his limits and found a way to have peace at long last. No angel was going to take that away from him.
Abrigail responded with a short statement. “The sun isn’t going to kill you, Arel!”
At first, he couldn’t decipher what Abrigail was telling him. “What?” he screamed back.
“It’s true. The sun won’t harm you.”
“What?” This time his one-word question was barely whispered. Like someone believing the world was flat and seeing a picture of the Earth from space, he was left breathless. Ability was replaced by a numbing failure to think clearly. In the span of a few moments, he went from skilled driver to incompetent dunce. The distance between his belief and Abrigail’s factual statement was too great. His only option was to ease his foot off the gas petal and steer the car to the side of the road.
Abrigail kept trying to explain. “It’s good news, dearest!”
He didn’t want to listen to her. As the car slowed down, his hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “Good news? I’m totally screwed!”
If Abrigail was telling the truth, and of course angels didn’t lie, Michael’s blood was working, working to keep him earthbound, working to keep him a prisoner forever.
Abrigail reached out to him. “It’s what you’ve wanted all along. You’re not cursed anymore. You don’t need blood. You can go to the beach if you want.”
He paused. Abrigail had a point. He had wanted to rid himself of the curse. So why wasn’t he happy that he’d gotten his wish? Why did he feel cheated by what Abrigail was telling him?
“But I’m still not normal. I know it! Maybe I’m not a vampire like I was, but I can’t function properly. Everything is out of control. I feel like something is driving me just like I’m driving this car. It’s always pushing me, and I can’t put on the brakes. I’m crashing constantly.”
“I know that change can feel scary. Try to have faith in what’s happening to you.”
He glared back. “If I’m not a vampire and I’m not normal anymore, what am I?”
Abrigail hesitated. “You’re in an iffy stage.”
“That’s not an answer! Tell me what I am?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, but Michael doesn’t know what form this process will take, what will happen exactly.” She paused and smiled at him. “He’s kind of winging it.”
Her sweet tone was a sharp stick on his fragile nerves. As soon as the angel showed up, his body became its edgy, anxious self again. “What do you mean he’s winging it? And why are you smiling at a time like this?”
“Notice the phrase ‘winging it’? Michael said you’d like us to use more humor.”
His mouth gaped. “If that’s angel humor, heaven help all of you.”
“Sorry. I guess I don’t have the hang of what makes humans laugh.”
“Laugh? Now? The one night that I get the courage to finish it, you come and tell me that I’m what, an experiment gone wrong? A hybrid? Like one of Michael’s roses?”
He’d been clutching the steering wheel. As he talked to Abrigail, his fingers c
losed tighter. When he tried to let go, something gave way inside of him. He felt like he was letting go of his last shred of hope. “Lord give me strength,” he moaned.
“The Lord is giving you strength, Arel. Haven’t you noticed that you’re stronger now? When you really decide to do something, look at how it changes you. And I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll help you.”
Abrigail’s sweet offer, meant to be caring, forced him from his seat. He might not be able to transport himself to freedom, but he didn’t have to listen to more angelic ideas about how fortunate he was. He exited the Mustang, slammed the door, and started walking.
He’d been wrong to ask for strength. Strength meant that he’d suffer longer. As for angel humor, both Abrigail and Michael were hopeless when it came to understanding the human condition and how to comment on it. All that they could do was smile and tell him that everything was going to be okay. It was complete nonsense.
He’d been a wreck forever, and his ship was finally going down for the last time. Maybe he wouldn’t die, but at this point, he welcomed insanity. To be divorced from reality, weaving baskets in a quiet, padded cell might have been scary when he first started the purge. Now it drew him in with its simplicity. And it was certainly better than knowing that he’d tried his best and couldn’t manage five minutes in a diner. No, his mind was not his friend. Perhaps he could request a lobotomy.
