by Susan Reid
I was glad that I had gotten bawling like a baby out of the way. I felt a little better, and though it left me with the sniffles and puffy red eyes, it was a total relief when the wrecker finally turned into the parking lot. The tow truck circled slowly until I got out and waved my hand to signal him. The injury to my mouth was bad enough so, I put my sunglasses on to at least cover my eyes.
Once the tow pulled up behind my car, an old guy hopped out, and given the frown on his whiskered face, I guessed that maybe he was ticked about something. He hitched up his holey pants with clipboard in hand.
“Starling Roberts?” he confirmed.
“Star, I’m the one waiting for the tow.” I said.
He peered curiously at my face.
“It was a bitch getting here, the bridge was detoured from flooding last night, so it took me a while to go the long way. You have the keys?” He said in an impatient and gruff manner, as he began checking off a few things, and then verifying my license plate number before he passed me the clipboard and pen, in exchange for my car keys, “Sign there,” He marked an x next to the signature line on the customer form.
I took it and quickly signed my name with no reply or attempt to strike up any kind of conversation given his demeanor, wanting to hurry and get this over with. I handed him my keys.
He took them and opened my car door, “What exactly is wrong with it? Will it start?” He then asked as he plopped into the driver’s seat having to move it back for his legs to fit.
“The battery is dead I think.” I explained.
He nodded as he cranked the car, and it started just as easily, and purred just as smoothly as it always had —up until last night.
We both looked at each other, me with a more puzzled expression.
“You could have just flagged someone for a jump if that was the case. It sounds good to me now.” He commented sounding agitated.
I was stunned.
“All your gauges look fine, you got gas. You sure it wouldn’t start?” He asked, and then looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“Yeah I…” I trailed off.
“Well, there’s no point in towing it. I charge just to come out though. Is your insurance covering it?” He then said, leaving the car running as he scooted back out of the driver’s seat.
He glanced at me again, and in trying to avoid looking at my mouth, his face changed to a more sympathetic expression.
“Um, no I have cash. How much is it?” I asked opening my purse.
I heard him sigh, there was a slight pause.
I looked up at him with an expectant raised brow.
“No charge, don’t worry about it. You have yourself a great day.” He then said with a smile and a curt nod.
What? His sudden generosity was abrupt and shocking.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
He nodded with a hand up, “Positive. Take care.” He waved off. I handed him the clipboard back and he took it, heading back to his tow truck, where climbed back inside, and took a moment to write something down.
That was cool, and I was definitely appreciative.
I was so relieved that I wasn’t going to have car issues after all. Though my cell phone rang, I ignored it —not wanting to talk to anyone right now.
I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, but once I hit the city limits and took the exit that would lead me to a popular strip mall shopping center, I paused. In the distance, down the road to my right, I saw a looming steeple with an iron gray cross atop a small, yet well-built church. I didn’t even think or question the denomination when I flipped my signal, and made the turn.
I hadn’t been to a church in years and though my parents and grandmother had their own beliefs, they didn’t have any kind of particular religious affiliation. We went to church at times but there was no specific denomination that I ever considered myself to be so I didn’t even care what the denomination of this church was.
There was only one car in the parking lot.
Were they even open? Wasn’t church usually open all the time?
I parked anyway, and hesitated before giving it a try. I turned off the engine and got out, making my way across the walk, and up the steps to the large mahogany double doors with a square window of stained glass set in each panel.
I pulled on the handle, and the door opened with a high squeak and creak. I breathed a sigh of relief, already feeling soothed in my emotionally distress, as I stepped inside slowly. It smelled like pine cleaner and bubble gum inside to me, as I looked around the vestibule area, decorated with a rack of pamphlets, a suggestion and donation box, and several plants.
The crown molding edged archway, led straight into the main part of the church. There were three sections, each containing several rows of dark wooden pews, neatly facing a small stage, where an altar, podium, bleachers for the choir and a piano all sat silently.
Vivid colors streaming in from the stained glass windows, danced over the pews, as the sun shone through; creating a rainbow effect over the tops of the benches and the blue carpeting.
A large gold cross was raised above the pulpit, and the baptismal fountain, dominating all of the other décor and I looked at all of it in awe. There was a single door to the right of the stage. I assumed it was either an office or where the preacher and staff probably kept supplies or something.
I looked around, seeing no one, as I made my way towards the altar and then stopped short. Instead, I moved to the left, and slid into a pew. The wooden bench creaked softly under my weight as I sat and let out a slow breath of release. I leaned back and relaxed against the hard back of the bench.
I did feel safe momentarily, peaceful —knowing that nothing dark would or could bother me here.
I thought about everything. The past, all of my dreams, what happened yesterday, and I tried to make some sense of it. I was bad about praying. I know I didn’t do it as much as I should have, or as much as my grandmother would have liked me to do, but I did. Maybe it hadn’t been enough.
I closed my eyes thinking of some of the prayers she had taught me, when a sudden cold sensation brushed against my face and mouth.
It startled and made me gasp suddenly, and my eyes flew open.
My entire face and my mouth felt cool and tingly, with a strange sensation that I couldn’t really describe. It was the equivalent of someone holding an ice cube close to my lips, enough for me to feel the cold coming off of it, and it seemed to have come from out of the blue. I gently touched my face, and the strange, tingly coldness began to seep into my fingertips. The sensation traveled up into each of my fingers, beneath my skin, and up my arm, spreading into my shoulders and neck, and then throughout my entire body, finally —heading straight into my legs, and then into my feet.
My heart pounded at the sudden strange yet…soothing sensation, and suddenly all of the soreness in my face, lip, back and ankle…were completely, gone.
My mouth parted in disbelief, my eyes flicked to the huge gold cross, and I felt the welling up of tears again.
I wasn’t worthy. I did believe in miracles, but only happening to other people.
“Are you alright?” I heard a soft spoken male voice ask from my left. I gasped and sat up straighter. My eyes searched the empty church to find who the voice belonged to.
Sitting adjacent in the pew in front of me was — Antonio Sabato Jr., in his younger General Hospital days. Obviously, this couldn’t be him. Though the resemblance was strong, this man was lacking the dimples and olive skin tone. Well, if I could say one thing about the events of the last twenty four hours, it was that I had been running into really gorgeous guys all of a sudden.
I continued to stare; dumbstruck at not just his looks, but how the hell he had come in or where he had come from without making a sound.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. You seemed distraught.” He then said, as he smiled a perfect white smile.
I couldn’t get over who he looked like. The longer I stared at him, the more I
could see that instead of being tanned like Antonio, he was more on the lighter side, with some kind of light iridescence that seemed to shimmer just beneath the surface of his skin.
It was weird.
“No, I’m sorry…I didn’t hear anyone come in, I just wanted a moment to rest and think,” I began as I stood.
He held a hand up.
“No, no please don’t leave on my account. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said.
“I’m done actually. Um, are you the preacher here?” I asked.
He laughed a little and shook his head no, “I’m actually just stopping in, like you.” He said.
He didn’t seem to notice the bruise on my face, or if he did, he was being polite in not staring at or mentioning it.
I didn’t hear the front doors open or the pews creak. It was as if he just…appeared. Lately, I didn’t discount anything that didn’t seem ordinary anymore.
My face was still tingling, and I just now realized that I was standing on my sore ankle — and there was no pain at all!
I immediately felt compelled to sit back down, and a feeling of ease and comfort fell over me like a protective blanket the longer he looked at me. After a few more moments, it was hard for me to continue looking at him without feeling the urge to…cry.
I felt embarrassed at the wave of emotion that seemed to overwhelm me out of nowhere and I paused to briefly shut my eyes.
When I opened them, he was still there, waiting patiently as if he understood the emotions I was feeling at this exact moment, and not being able to find the words to speak to him just yet.
“You look like you can use an ear though if you don’t mind me saying so.” He then offered.
I would have automatically declined, but I wanted to stay.
I was drawn to him in an unexplainably strange and emotional way.
“I’m Drake,” He smiled.
Drake, I liked that.
I managed a smile, “Star.” I replied.
He raised a brow of recognition though very slight, but I caught it.
“Very nice to meet you Star.” He said. I liked the way he said my name and I did indeed begin to feel comforted.
I then laughed a little. Relieved that he was the first person that didn’t ask seem taken aback or asked what happened to my face.
“What?” he smiled.
I shook my head, “It’s nothing. I feel silly I guess,” I then confessed, looking down at my hands.
“Silly? Why?” he asked with a perplexed brow.
I sighed, wondering why it was so hard to look at him without getting teary eyed. I guess my emotions were really working overtime, but he seemed to be drawing them out of me automatically, and I was not one to pour out my emotions easily to anyone.
“I don’t even know what denomination this church is and I don’t feel as if I belong here. I mean at least that my being here should matter for me. I’m…I’m not a typical church going kind of person is what I meant to say.” I said with guilt and a shrug of my shoulder.
There was a brief moment of silence.
“Why do you think going or not going to a house of worship has anything to do with your value or worth as a person?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.
I looked up at him, and then quickly turned away though his obvious focus remained on me.
“I guess it doesn’t — it’s just that for me, all my life I’ve seen and experienced things that I feel like not many people would understand or believe. And lately, my dreams, and things in real life have been getting weirder and more intense. I think I know why, but I don’t understand why me or am I the only one?” I went on to say and feeling as if half of my burdens had just been instantly lifted from my shoulders. My breath hitched, and I tried hard to stave off the oncoming tears. My nose burned and I sniffed.
“Perhaps, there is a reason for it all. Sometimes being in a place like this, no matter what religion you feel you should be; helps. The silence gives us pause so we can reflect and think more clearly. This is a place where one can lay down any and all burdens. At least it’s always been that way for me.” He smiled.
Silence. Like the silence Ms. Hawthorne said she liked.
The sound of his voice and his words was the empathy I needed for my soul, and it took away all the fears and despair that I had been feeling for so long, in the breath of an instant. Another apparent miracle. I mean, there were still a lot of good and positive people in the world and sometimes it was hard to remember that.
“You’re right. It’s like the one person that I think did know and understood me because she was almost like me, just passed away this morning.” I then said.
“I’m very sorry to hear that.” He replied.
“Like everyone else close to me has,” I sniffed and bit down on my quivering lip, as a stray tear rolled down my face. My sobbing came involuntarily, and I buried my face in my hands in embarrassment though I wasn’t sure why I felt that way. I wasn’t a typical crier, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself this time.
He was politely silent and patient. I hoped I didn’t run him off. I forced myself to stop crying by sucking in a deep breath and sniffing. I wiped my wet face with my palms and the back of my hands, while looking down at my lap.
I saw a tissue appear in front of me just then, and when I looked up; Drake was holding it out to me. My eyes went wide, because he was now sitting — beside me. I swear that there was absolutely no way that he could have moved that fast, and sat down right next to me without my seeing, feeling or hearing him.
I’d been crying hard, but not that hard.
I looked at him, really looked and at him this time, but I didn’t feel fear, just puzzled confusion and awe.
“The body perishes, never the spirit,” He then said waiting for me to take the tissue.
I appreciated his words and deep down, I knew he was right.
“How did you do that?” I asked incredulously.
“Do what?” He asked.
I looked at him in shock.
“Move, without a sound. These pews creak, and I never even heard the front doors open. No one was in here when I came in,” I then said.
He smiled warmly, “I’ve been here.” He assured me.
I couldn’t help but feel comforted by his presence, though I wasn’t sure I believed him.
I took the tissue graciously, and blew my nose.
“So you believe that we go on too? Somewhere else after death?” I then asked.
He nodded, “Yes, I do.” He smiled again.
“One of two places huh? I believe there’s a yin and yang to everything. If there’s darkness, there’s light, if there’s evil there has to be good, but I always seem to attract the darkness for some reason.” I then said, feeling more warm tears continue to roll down my face. I wiped those immediately, looking down at my hands splayed in my lap.
He paused for a moment, “Attract or notice?” He asked me, which took me off guard.
I shrugged and thought for a moment, “Maybe both.” I replied.
“I call that a gift. Darkness is always attracted to light. It yearns for it and at the same time, light completely overpowers the dark. You have an advantage, you’re aware of its existence. Darkness comes in all forms, and if they know they can get to you they will certainly try.” Drake then said.
“Then you believe in shadows too?” I asked softly looking up at him with interest now and feeling emboldened to tell him everything, as if we’d been long lost friends.
“You mean shadows as in demons?” He clarified.
I nodded and sniffed.
“Absolutely, and like you said, there’s a yin and yang to everything.” He then said.
“I want to believe that, but I’ve never seen an angel and I personally don’t even think they’re on my side given everything that’s happened in my life.” I then said as more tears streamed down. I wiped my face and blew my nose again.
He was silent for a moment.
“That was probably a crappy thing to say. I know they’re out there and there are people far worse off than I am, so that’s where they need to be.” I then said.
“No, it wasn’t a crappy thing to say. You’re honesty and gallant understanding of others in greater need than your own, are very noble things. Sometimes, the crosses we bear can be heavy and overwhelming, but they’ll never be impossible to carry and I believe that angels are always around.” He said softly and smiled.
I opened my mouth for a moment, not sure how or if I wanted to say what I thought of telling this stranger next, but I felt compelled to go on talking and I couldn’t stop myself. Talking about everything made me feel sane again, and it never occurred to me that he would find me strange or crazy.
“Well, I’ve been seeing those shadows all the time and I have ever since I was little,” I then told him awaiting his expression and reaction as I watched his face.
I couldn’t read his expression at all.
“I believe you.” He replied sincerely.
My heart beat faster. I felt relief, relief to share this on more of a different level than I had with China and Joel.
“I have dreams, or nightmares more like it. These shadow demons attacked me twice recently — physically, and that’s where I got this,” I said pointing to the bruise on my face.
I heard him inhale a slow breath, and he didn’t even looked surprised or scrutinize me as if I were some pathetic weakling or a weirdo either.
“Perhaps you pose a threat to them in some way,” He then said seriously. I looked at him curiously, remembering the way that dark angel in my dream suddenly looked at me with terror in its unearthly black eyes.
This was uncanny.
“You know, you’re like the second person that I really didn’t know well to tell me that.” I replied.
He smiled, “Then there must be some truth to it.” He then said.
“So, should I get baptized or something then? Would that make a difference in them leaving me alone?” I asked.
He laughed a little, “Some things are already predestined regardless of what we do.” He then said.
