Archangel Crusader

by Vijaya Schartz

  He would just get into the cool dark cabaret for a short while, say hi, maybe have a drink, just one for old times' sake. It couldn't possibly hurt him now. Besides, he deserved it. Trusting his new powers to keep him out of trouble, he parked the motorcycle and walked straight into the bar.

  *****

  From the sky, Jennifer watched the city lights glow like a great beacon in the night. The red sign above her seat blinked.

  "Veuillez attacher vos ceintures pour l'atterissage," confided a disembodied female voice through the loudspeakers.

  "She said to buckle your seat belt," said Krastinios. "That was French. We are landing soon. Do you speak any French?"

  "Only a little bit. I had some in school last year, but not much... I can say 'Bonjour, comment allez-vous, je m'appelle Jennifer!' But that's about it. I listened to the people behind us. I can't understand a word they said. I'm afraid this is going to be hard. Good thing my mother speaks English."

  "Good thing indeed... If you’d like someone to talk to in English sometime, give me a call. I am staying at the Astoria Hotel, suite 666. Here is my card. You may call me anytime."

  "Really?" Jennifer felt flattered. This handsome grown man genuinely enjoyed her conversation. She basked in the recognition, carefully placing the red and gold card in her purse.

  Had it not been for the slight bump of the wheels on the ground, Jennifer would have missed the landing altogether. Since she would disembark last, Mr. K, what a cool name, gallantly offered to keep her company until she would meet her mother. The flight attendant welcomed the delightful company as much as Jennifer did.

  "You may want to brush your hair," Mr. K suggested to Jennifer. "You never get a second chance to make a first impression."

  "Oh, I forgot. Thank you." She fished for the hairbrush in her purse.

  "Please allow me." Krastinios took the brush from her hand and very slowly, with the gentlest touch, proceeded to untangle Jennifer's long chestnut hair.

  The girl enjoyed the sensual feeling. No one had ever brushed her hair so gently. Not even Veronica.

  After most of the passengers had left, several employees started checking the overhead compartments for any carry-on left behind. At last, the trio stepped off the plane.

  The modern airport of Roissy en France was a huge concrete structure, brightly lit, cold and impersonal, despite the fancy windows and bright posters. It smelled of Swiss chocolate, Italian espresso, and French perfume from the duty-free shop. The monstrosity had been named Charles de Gaulle, after a famous dead general, or president, or both. Jennifer was not quite sure, but Mr. K would know. The moving sidewalks went on forever. Jennifer's excitement now turned to apprehension. On the phone, her mother had sounded nice, but still...

  Through a side door, they skipped immigration with a smile and a salute from a young uniformed man. They retrieved their luggage from the carousel. Mr. K didn't have any. Jennifer found that rather cool. They glided through luggage customs without being asked a single question, almost as if they had been invisible.

  "Here is the arrival gate," said the pretty attendant with a pearly smile. "Your mother should be waiting for you there."

  In the crowd beyond the gate, Jennifer tried hard to spot a likely mother, but she was led straight to the hospitality desk where a gentleman made an announcement in French. A tall, elegant woman, beautifully lean in her red dress came forward, chestnut hair cut short in a daring fashion. The woman's enormous green eyes met Jennifer's. She was breathtaking, made up as if out of a fashion magazine. Jennifer froze in surprise.

  "Jennifer? You are so big for a ten-year-old. Let me look at you." Although she gave Jennifer a timid smile, the lady looked ready to break into tears as she embraced her, kissing both her cheeks (French style, as Mr. K had explained earlier).

  Jennifer couldn't believe it. This was the mother she had wanted to know all her life. Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt giddy and smiled, unable to say a word.

  "There's no mistake here, said the friendly hostess, you two look so much alike it's amazing. Madame Fontaine, I believe Jennifer had a good flight, thanks in part to this gracious passenger who insisted on seeing her safely with you."

  "Why, I don't know how to thank you, Sir," Tori said, her eyes still on her daughter. Tori's full height included a few inches of high heels, as Jennifer noticed when she straightened. "My name is Tori Fontaine, delighted to meet you." Tori offered a handshake, and Mr. K brought her hand to his lips.

  "You may call me Mr. K. All the pleasure was mine, Madame. Jennifer is delightful company indeed. I will add that she is very good at chess, and if you want my advice, never expect to win a game against her."

  "He's good, too," Jennifer pointed out. "He did beat me once." She insisted on being fair.

  "What does the K stand for? I'm just curious."

  "A name too difficult to pronounce it right, so I only go by Mr. K."

  Tori frowned slightly then her face relaxed. "Oh, anyway, my driver is waiting as we speak. Would you like a ride into the city? It's thirty miles away. I'm sure Jennifer would love to have your company a little longer. Am I right, Jennifer?" Tori's moist stare looked straight into the girl's heart.

  "Yes, I would like that," Jennifer confirmed with a grin.

  "I would not want to impose on your family reunion." The handsome man remained ever so polite.

  Finally, it was decided that they would drop him off at his hotel, which happened to be on the way to Tori's home. Mr. K hailed a porter to carry Jennifer's luggage.

  As they came out in the open, a black Mercedes pulled up, followed by a long, white limousine. Krastinios discreetly made a sign to the driver who barely acknowledged with a nod, then left. Mr. K then followed Tori and Jennifer inside the white limo. Busy studying each other, mother and daughter missed the whole exchange.

  Tori's chauffeur closed the trunk then took the long, white car silently toward the French capital. The three passengers made small talk on the way to Paris. Even on the freeway, the long vehicle seemed out of place among all the tiny European automobiles. It was late by the time they reached the city, so the goodbyes with Mr. K were brief. Mr. K mentioned something about seeing them again sometime. Jennifer sincerely hoped that it would be the case.

  Now, alone with her mother for the first time, in that huge limo cruising the streets of a foreign city, Jennifer felt lost, intimidated by this gorgeous woman who was so obviously her mother. Tori played nervously with the back of her cropped chestnut hair, smiling in a friendly way. Jennifer could see some fear, some vulnerability under the lovely façade.

  Tori took her daughter's hand. "Jennifer, I have waited a long time to meet you. The last time I saw you, you were a tiny, ugly little bundle, under some plexiglas, with needles and tubes stuck everywhere. I never held you in my arms. You were too fragile. No one knew for sure if you would survive, and it was all my fault."

  A little overwhelmed by this outpouring, Jennifer listened intently, not daring to break the flow. Good thing the driver could not hear behind his dark glass panel. This would be very embarrassing.

  "I was very young," Tori continued in a soft voice, "almost a child myself, unprepared for such responsibilities. It's probably hard for you to understand now, but I hope that one day you will, and I hope you will forgive me." A sob escaped Tori’s throat.

  "It's okay." Jennifer patted her mother's hand reassuringly. "Dad told me a little bit about it. I always knew I had a mother. I just didn't know where she was or what she looked like." No wonder her father had kept her away from Tori. The woman cried like a baby for no apparent reason. Good thing Jennifer had a good head on her shoulders. Right now, she felt the oldest of the two.

  Tori dabbed at her eyes with a tissue then smiled. "Well, we almost look like sisters. Maybe I can help you become a model like me, if you like."

  Stunned, Jennifer realized she’d never paid much attention to the compliments about her looks. And she certainly never believed them. Resembling
her mother so much was a revelation.

  "I'd like to make up for some of the hurt I caused in the past," Tori went on. "I was so removed from reality... I lived in a world of dreams and nightmares. That's what happens when you do drugs. I hope you never get into that hell. It's not worth it, believe me, I know..."

  So, this was the mother Jennifer had longed to meet. How strange that she spoke to her like an adult. Of course Jennifer understood addiction. By watching her father, she had learned everything there was to know about it.

  Her luminous eyes on Jennifer, Tori squeezed her daughter’s hand gently. "I'm so glad to have you here. Welcome to Paris! So, what do you think so far?"

  "I don't know." Jennifer hesitated. "It feels so... Different."

  "I know. All these buildings, eight or nine stories high, huddled against each other, with no space in between, arches, Greek temples, Egyptian obelisks, Roman churches and statues. I felt that way the first time too. But in the daylight it's beautiful. I'm sure you'll like it. There is so much to see. You may have to choose what to do first." Tori took a small paper from her purse and put on a pair of elegant glasses. “Here, I made a list for you." Her gaze went down the list. “We could start with the zoo or the Eiffel Tower. I think we'll do some shopping, too. Do you like shopping?"

  "I love buying clothes," Jennifer answered truthfully.

  "What about museums?"

  Jennifer made a sour face. "Booooring..."

  "Maybe a ballet?"

  "Yes!" Jennifer exulted "I would like that. But don’t you have to work?"

  Tori laughed. "Oh I don’t work very much anymore."

  "Veronica worked at the hospital. She was a nurse."

  "Yes, I heard... Did you like Veronica very much?"

  "I guess so... She was nice to me... She was strict sometimes too, but she always gave me things. She helped with my reading and gave me books. Where do you work?"

  With an amused smile, Tori looked at Jennifer, as if with new respect. "I modeled for a while for the Haute Couture... That's clothes, you know... I did a few ads for the magazines... It was fun, but very hectic, and I was away most of the time. Now I like to be with Jean-Marc, although he does travel too."

  "The Frenchman you married, is he nice?"

  "He's wonderful. Jean-Marc helped me when I got off drugs. I think he will like you very much too. He's in New York on a business trip now, but you'll meet him in a few days when he comes back. In the meantime, it's just you and me."

  The white limo slowed down and stopped in front of an imposing building. The doors of the limousine opened automatically and they stepped out.

  “How did he do that?" Jennifer asked, full of wonder.

  The chauffeur winked. “A button on the dashboard,” he said retrieving Jennifer’s luggage from the trunk then carried it through the plush lobby. Thick, red carpet, white columns, gold rims and crystal chandeliers reflected endlessly into mirrored walls.

  "Here we are. I hope you like the Duplex." Tori looked nervous.

  Once in the elevator, the driver inserted a key into a panel and pressed the top button. They rode quietly to the sound of soft classical music. The chauffeur, in navy uniform complete with cap and gloves, again winked at Jennifer who returned a timid smile. Jennifer felt better as she noticed that Tori clutched her purse compulsively. She gave her mother a candid, reassuring look.

  The polished brass of the elevator doors reflected Tori and Jennifer, side by side, each wearing a bright red dress. Jennifer could now see the resemblance. Same green, lively eyes, same high cheekbones and high foreheads, same wide mouths with small dimples when they smiled, and the same chestnut hair. Except that Tori's was cropped so short, almost like a boy. Jennifer took pride in her long, shiny hair.

  The elevator door opened, unveiling luxuriant vegetation. At first Jennifer thought they had stepped outside on the roof, then she noticed the glass panels framing the stars and the sky. What a beautiful night, she almost said aloud. She could see many small trees potted in barrels, flowerbeds, white garden furniture... The penthouse had an indoor garden, glass walls, a big terrace, and a wonderful view of the city.

  "This is the orangery," said Tori, as a perfect hostess. "Jean-Marc likes to have breakfast among his citrus trees."

  Jennifer had never seen a penthouse, except maybe on TV. The driver disappeared discreetly with her suitcase. Tori kicked off her shoes, inviting Jennifer to do the same. The posh, white carpet felt like grass between Jennifer's wriggling toes.

  "Dad says that nothing feels better than stepping barefoot in fresh, warm cow dung. Isn't it gross? I think this carpet feels better between my toes." Jennifer dropped onto the purple sofa.

  Tori laughed with good humor and asked, "Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you care for a pastry, some ice cream, or some milk?"

  "Ice cream?" echoed Jennifer.

  "The best in the country, with all the fat and all the cholesterol... A real dream... Vanilla, coffee, or chocolate?"

  "Chocolate," Jennifer's blurted out.

  "I'll have some with you," Tori declared, on her way to the refrigerator.

  The kitchen looked clean and smooth, in white and natural wood colors, with thick, white rugs on the hard wood floor. When Tori pushed a button, the refrigerator door hidden in the wood paneling opened with a soft whirring sound. She lavishly scooped ice cream into crystal bowls then produced silver spoons from a drawer concealed in the wall.

  They enjoyed dessert in the living room, making light conversation, sitting cross-legged on the great triangular couch of purple silk. Jennifer had never seen so many strange paintings hanging from the ceiling, modern ones, set slightly away from the mauve drapes that covered the glass walls. She stared, fascinated. Each canvas had individual lighting and a dull, gray metal frame.

  "The frames are made of pewter," Tori volunteered. "But you must be tired. Personally, I'm bushed. I'll show you to your room. I hope you like it. I decorated it myself."

  They walked up a circular, open stairwell to the second level of the penthouse and entered a dream fantasy room of pink ribbons and white lace. Delicate, fluffy pillows and silky ruffles adorned an elegant brass daybed, complete with Barbie Doll and Ken reclining on the comforter.

  "Oh my gosh!" The cry of delight escaped Jennifer as her heart leapt. Opposite the bed stood a small table, on which a pink-and-white marble chess set seemed to wait. Each hand-carved piece sat on its proper square, ready for a game. On both sides stood a white leather stool where Jennifer sat for a second in amazement, looking around her. “Unbelievable!”

  Her clothes hung in the walk-in closet. A door stood ajar revealing an adjoining bathroom, with lots of lights and mirrors. Beside a white lacquer drawer chest sat a giant TV and home entertainment center and a full-size Nintendo game screen, under shelves of cassettes. Next to it on a white desk, a computer and a lime green telephone. The huge room opened on an outside deck.

  At a loss for words, Jennifer threw herself in Tori's welcoming embrace. No one had ever spoiled her before and this was just too much. The little girl cried and laughed at the same time, enjoying every bit of her incredible luck. "This is the most beautiful room I've ever seen."

  "Thank you." Tori held her tight, choking on the words. “I hoped you'd like it."

  "I love it. Thanks... By the way, what should I call you?" Jennifer disengaged herself when her mother finally let go.

  "Whatever you like." Tori smiled as she wiped a tear. "I'm not used to being called Mom, but I don't mind at all. And if you want to call me Tori, that's fine, too."

  "Maybe I can call you Tori for now. It's a nice name. I like it."

  "Well, good night, big girl. My room is across the hall if you need anything. Sweet dreams... I'll see you in the morning." She gave Jennifer a last kiss on the forehead before disappearing behind the closing door.

  Jennifer's excitement kept her awake a while longer. She paced the room, touching each and every thing as she undressed and got ready for bed, wonderi
ng if she were dreaming. In her excitement she jump-sat on the mattress, rolled on the fluffy comforter, checked the dress of the Barbie doll, then lay down on the soft pillows.

  Before closing her eyes, she remembered her father and called him in her mind. Dad, I'm here... It's wonderful... I'm very happy. My mother is so nice and I have a beautiful room. I hope you're okay. I love you.

  She half expected to feel the tender communication they usually had when she thought about him, but her wandering mind only encountered silence and void. Of course, they were so far apart... Must have been the distance. Jennifer felt a little sad. She would have liked to share her happiness with her father, but she wouldn’t let that spoil her pleasure and went to sleep full of gratitude.

  *****

  "Goddamn... Leave me alone," Michael protested, eyes still closed, to the bothersome hand that shook him roughly. As he rolled over, his head hit something hard that sent jolts of pain through his skull. "What the hell?"

  "Hey man, you shouldn't stay here, it's not safe. The cops will be patrolling soon." The hoarse voice emanated from a foul-smelling mouth.

  At the word "cops," Michael opened one eye to see a grubby-looking fellow and a Shopright cart stacked with black garbage bags full of dubious contents. His head hurt worse than it ever had. A timid dawn paled the chilly sky. He almost envied the homeless man his pitiful coat. "What the hell am I doing here?" He sat up, instantly wide awake, regretting the sudden move.

  "Eh, man, you shouldn't stay here!" the wretched being insisted.

  "Get your hands off me, you filthy bum."

  "Asshole,” the vagrant mumbled. “That'll teach me to help a stupid drunk..." He walked away, slowly pushing his creaking cart. Michael wondered how the man stole it since they were so efficiently guarded behind steel rails at the supermarket.