by Carol Robi
"Pluck out some of the feathers from his wings, and burn them. That will truly hurt him." Raphael's voice sounds like it's coming from a cold hearted psychopath, about to enjoy torturing his victim immensely.
Azrael’s face twitches in sudden fear and pain at his brother's betrayal, throwing threatening gazes at the two of us. I take a step towards him, and his large powerful wings burst out from his back protectively, cascading behind him majestically.
They are warning me, I note. I walk up to him, and lift my hand to stroke one of his feathers.
I see the raw panic crossing his face. When I wrap my hand around one of the long perfect feathers, his eyes look at me pleadingly, begging me for mercy, as his body shakes as though he is using all the power he has not to flee from what is coming next. I lift my hand away from the feather and trace the side of his face above mine, our eyes lock together.
"Do we understand each other?" I ask him. Meaning that he is never again to try threaten me or my family.
"Crystal clear," he promises, unblinking.
There’s power not only in hurting for vengeance, but in the ability to forgive after delivering a serious threat, something I’ve just learnt.
"Put out the flame, Raphael. I think I’ve forgiven him."
"Yes you have. I no longer feel like beating him to pulp anymore." I smile back at Raphael, glad that at least he had understood just how angry I had been at Azrael.
"I have to go back to school," I say turning to him.
He wordlessly cradles me again tight to his side, and we land in one of the girls' toilet noiselessly. I chuckle at his ingenious choice of a landing place. He holds onto me as I wriggle my legs under me. It still unsettles me a lot to travel this way.
"How did we fly into the toilets?" I ask puzzled, after I have listened to be sure we are alone.
"We squeezed in through that window," he says pointing towards a small window of about 300x300mm, which is still gently swinging on its hinges.
"No way! That would be a very tight squeeze even for me. You couldn't have possibly squeezed through it."
"Watch and learn," he says in a whisper over my hair, before I watch him fly super-fast to the window, and then supernaturally stretch himself as his body repositions itself to allow him to squeeze through the window. Nice!
I walk out of the bathroom and make my way to class, planning to lie to my teacher Bente about how I had an upset stomach and spent the last quarter of an hour that I should have been in class throwing up.
It is amazing what a good liar I am becoming, all in the name of saving the Principles of Divinity.
Hallelujah to you all!
Chapter 15
"Haha! Dad let it go already! I brought you someone now to carry the half of my load!" I call out laughing as I clip another floor heating pipe in place onto the plastic spacers.
Dad, with the help of grandpa and Magnus, is busy replacing the old windows with the new energy saving windows he picked up earlier today after work. Grandma and I are relegated to laying the floor pipes because of our lack of body strength.
I don't argue with them for I am enjoying my task. Dad however keeps bringing up the point of how I was not much help with the mounting of the roof insulation last week because I could not lift the rockwool bundles and balance on the ladder at the same time. He is convincing the guys that women cannot multi-task after all!
"Magnus, thanks for offering to help," dad says to my friend.
"No problem, Torben, I'm enjoying the experience. I had lots of fun last summer when my dad and I built an extension to our house, so I am glad to have the opportunity to help out."
"I am glad you think so. I could really use the muscle, no offence dad!" Grandpa laughs lightly in response.
"Well, I am offended dad," I call out from the other room, the one that is to be converted into two bedrooms.
"You'll get over it, princess!" Dad jokes. I can't help but laugh along with the others at his reply.
The work load moves much faster this afternoon. It really does help to have a seventeen year old athlete added to our building team. Grandma and I are soon done with our task, and I join the men with helping fix the Windows as grandma contents herself to clearing the rubble and piling it onto the trailer.
It had been quite tricky for them to replace the windows in the beginning, but they seem to have it all under control now. Like most things in construction, it has a learning curve to it.
We manage to finish the second window, just as grandmother is getting impatient with calling us to dinner. There is a steady drizzle, but miss perfect-wife grandma has already set up the large picnic umbrella over the camping table.
We sit under it, and dig into our meal of koldskål and pebernød, a very light Danish summer meal whose American equivalence I am yet to find. She packed with her a large thermos with warm cocoa that we drink to warm us up after the cold meal. We then set out to work on the third window, leaving grandmother and grandfather to clear up after us.
"So tell me, is Caroline being a brat at school?" Dad asks Magnus good-humoredly, who laughs back in response.
"Not especially, though I doubt the teachers enjoy the fact that she refuses to speak Danish."
"Magnus, shut up!" I say, feigning my annoyance, and he winks back at me.
"Yeah, she refuses to speak it at home too. Stubborn daughter I’ve got!" Dad says chuckling. It is so cool how easy going my parents are about my schooling at times. Not a single hint of college has ever been mentioned in my life. If I said I do not want to go to college after high school, they would probably invite me to travel the world with them and live among the different underdeveloped areas in the world that they love so much. That is what my parents call the true education of life.
Their motto in life is probably live and let live. I know that when dad lived among the Khoisan, he never showered for weeks because there was no water. Living just as the communities there do; wiping himself clean instead with a piece of towel soaked in sap squeezed out of tree roots. And when he called us and talked about it, he was excited about having to try something so different. My mother did promise though to scrub him clean for hours when he got home.
At just five years old, I believed she had carried out the threat, because they had stayed in the bathroom for so many hours. I now know, however, that they stayed in the bathroom for so long because they were doing a lot more than showering in there. Ew! No one enjoys thinking about their parents coupling. I need to distract my mind again.
"Dad, when we move in here, how shall you get to work?" I ask.
"I was thinking about a motorbike...”
"Mom will kill you!"
"I know. That is why I said I was just thinking about it."
We laugh a little, imagining just how loud my mom would yell if he were to get a bike. We both fall silent after that. He is probably thinking how much he misses her just as I am. But he has practice, often not seeing her for up to three consecutive months. I however, have always lived with mom, always woken up to her voice. I am trying so hard to be strong and not show how much I miss her. Every time she calls, she sounds so happy and excited with her work, and I have to bite down my emotions. No one wants to be a party pooper!
"Seriously though, I applied for a transfer to the Sønderbirk post office, and they accepted. That is why I thought this house would be perfect. You and I could take the bus together every morning." he says cheerfully while I groan loudly.
"Exchanging Magnus for dad as my bus-buddy! Could it get any better!" I mock sarcastically and we all join in laughing.
We continue the same light banter when grandfather joins us, and manage to replace the bathroom and kitchen windows before 9pm, leaving just the two large windows in the larger room that should be later converted to the bedrooms.
The ride home is quite uncomfortable, as three of us are squeezed together onto the back seat. I sit in the middle, and therefore have it worst.
As we get closer to Lejtoft, I f
eel the emptiness as the heady Essence thins out of the air. I must be getting addicted to it, for I get a great pang of longing, a strong pool to get out of the car and run back to it.
I take quick inhales as we drive on, trying to take in as much as I can before we drive completely out of its reach. Dad drops Magnus and I at the bus stop, as the three of them drive on home, for we have our bikes parked here.
"Thanks for helping out today. It was really cool to have you there," I say to Magnus as we walk towards our bikes.
"Anytime. It was fun! And your dad is so cool!"
"Yeah he is!" I say, laughing at the clear hero-worshipping tone in my friend’s voice.
"He has travelled to so many cool places, and has done so much crazy stuff. Cliff diving, hand gliding, swimming with dolphins, hunting crocodiles with just a spear with natives! Damn! I wish I could live my life like that," he says, kicking at an imaginary stone as we walk.
"Well, it does come with a price. Like never raising your own child," I put in quietly.
"I mean... and your mom, she is a rock star! Letting him live his dream, even if it meant her being alone most of the time. A single parent of sorts."
"Mom is a rock star," I confirm laughing. "She is so cool with stuff. Nothing ever stresses her, except motorbikes and roaches!" We both laugh at this, and quickly hug.
"See you tomorrow Magnus!"
"See you!" I get on my bike, turning on the bright LED lights, and bike in the opposite direction. It is still raining, so my jumper is soaked wet when I get home.
I’ll have to take with me my light rain jacket tomorrow, and maybe put on some light leggings instead of shorts, I think to myself as I step into the house.
I find grandma in the bathroom and dad rummaging through a pile of mail, his work pants still on. I drop my bright yellow green backpack on the floor by the door and pull out my iPad, turn it on and sign in to Skype.
She picks up my call at the second ring.
"Mom!"
"Caroline! How are...”
"Mom, I miss you!" I cry out fervently, surprising myself. I lean back on the wall and let myself slide slowly onto the floor.
"Oh baby, I miss you too so much!" Mom cries out, and I can hear her fight a sob on the other side. I bite down on my lip hard with guilt.
I should not have broken down like that.
"Mom it's okay, I will be fine...”
"No, babe, I am coming home to you." Mom says. I see dad's feet come to a stop by my side.
"Really mom?" I ask. "Are we moving back to New York?" I am surprised by the tinge of disappointment that creeps up in me at the idea of moving back to New York. Who would have thought a big city girl like me would be sad to leave this small town life?
"No, not New York. We’ve relocated to Denmark now, but I don't know baby. Your dad and I will talk about it. I have to finish my one year contract here first, or find a replacement." A small piece of me dies again, I want to be with her now. I know how hard it can be to find a replacement. How many people want to live in a makeshift camp for a year and teach women at a remote African tribe how to read and write? It is unpaid work with poor working conditions, and there are constant security threats from warring tribes.
"I thought I’d be happy doing this again, and I am, a little. But I just miss my baby too much."
"I miss you too, mom. But I don't want you to be unhappy...”
"Nonsense, I am always happy when I’m with you. Even when I want to strangle you." We all laugh, including dad. She must have heard his voice. "Is that your dad?" We rarely have video calls because mom has a very weak internet connection. It is why mom did not know that dad is beside me.
"Hi sun-princess!" Dad calls to her.
Now you know where I got my nickname ideas from!
"I hear you are thinking of coming back to us?" He asks, settling his large body on the floor beside me.
"I know it's quite unexpected, and very wishy-washy minded of me. I thought this adventure was what was missing in my life, but now that I am here... I don't know. I think maybe it was you missing. Maybe we should try stay together, as a family, and see what happens...” I feel awkward sitting through the very personal conversation they are having, but dad has his arms around me.
"It could be. So come home, love. Let us try. We could travel together again, and Caroline could join us if she wants, when done with school." Dad says, kissing the top of my head. "Maybe we could visit Nepal, or the amazon again."
"That sounds great," I say, exaggerating my excitement. I do not think I want to go live among alligators and anacondas. I am not an adventurist like my parents. But I know I would do it for them. I would be miserable every second of it, but I would do it.
“I see you still have a lot to learn about your daughter,” mom says with a chuckle, her voice cracking from the bad connection. “She’d hate the amazon.”
“Oh,” dad says, squeezing me to himself. “Chicken, are we?”
“Shut up!” I say playfully, chuckling as he makes chicken sounds at me.
"How is the house getting on?" Mom asks after the laughter subsides.
"We started replacing the windows today, and only two are left."
"Wow, it's coming along quite fast!" Mom exclaims.
"Yeah. It helps a lot that Caroline brought a boyfriend to help." I punch dad lightly when he says this.
"You have a boyfriend now?" Mom asks, her voice rising a notch.
"No, not a boyfriend mom. Don’t freak out. He is a friend of mine that happens to be a boy. He is my classmate."
"Do you like him?"
"Yes I like him, but I don't like like him." I say, and both mom and dad laugh at my expense.
"Does he like like you?" My mom asks, using my wording to mock me. I let it slip.
"I don't think so. He like's my friend A.M." I say, and a pang of guilt hits me when I realize that I will not get to call her tonight again, since it is already past 10:00pm.
"Ok, dear. It's late here. Almost midnight, and people are asleep at our camp. I will have to say good bye now."
"Ok mom, good night!"
"Bye Weigesa. We love you!" Dad says.
"I love you too." She makes a quick kissing sound and then hangs up. I stare at the screen laying my head on dad's shoulders, not moving from the position.
"Do you really love her dad? I mean really love her?"
"Of course, princess. Why would you even ask that?"
"Then why did you never try to live with us when I was born?"
"But I did, Caroline," he begins. "We moved to New York when we discovered that she was pregnant. We got jobs and did the whole happy family for the next three years.
My travelling was her idea. She felt that there was no need for both of us to settle. There were still so many people out there that needed help. It was killing both of us, living our lives in New York, working too many hours, supporting the corporate world and the ruthless system of capitalism - it was killing us princess! It was completely against our principles. One parent was enough to stay with you in a developed country, to give you a great opportunity to choose your own future, a good education and great medical care.
We decided to do it in turns at first, one could stay home for a year or two, and the other could travel. But your mother was doing very well with the gallery. When Thomas offered to sell the gallery we both thought it would be a good idea to buy it. She could then do her own good deed right on the streets of New York, by supporting young artists and selling great art at affordable prices. Art that all can afford, not monopolized by the wealthy class.
However, I knew nothing about art, and the gallery was doing so well under your mother's leadership, so we decided to keep going for two more years, and then two more, and then even more. I think finally your mother just found it too hard to leave you, so we kept on at it." He leans back against the wall, my head still on his chest, and we stay this way until grandfather walks in on us.
"The bathroom is free," h
e says. My dad taps my shoulder, signaling me to take a shower before him. So kissing his cheek, I rise on my feet and shuffle off into the bathroom.
The warm shower relaxes my tense muscles, massaging my aching limbs. The physical labor of working on the renovations for weeks is beginning to take a toll on me. I shut the water, wrap a towel around me and brush my teeth.
"Good night dad," I call as I walk to my room. He is seated at the kitchen chewing on some cookies with a glass of juice in front of him. My stomach growls, but I do not join him. I am too tired to have to brush my teeth again.
"Sleep tight!" He replies. "And princess, your new painting is breathtaking!"
"Thank you!" I call back with a smile.
I struggle with toweling my hair dry as I pull open the drawer containing my T-shirts. Some of dad's are also in this drawer, because we share closet space. I pick a long buggy T-shirt full of paint stains. It is moms, one of her favorites.
It must have been dads once, judging by its size. It is really old, threadbare, and has a hole above its right shoulder. Its right sleeve hem has long come loose.
One of my earliest memories is of mom in this T-shirt, falling over midway to the thighs of her bare plush bronze legs. She had held a palette on one hand and a paint brush on the other, standing before a large white canvas. The stereo had been blaring one of her favorite 90's song and she was swaying her hips gently to it in between placing strokes here and there.
"What do you think, baby?"
"I don't know mom? Is it a mountain?" She had laughed lightly at my interpretation. I was about five or six years old then.
I yank the T-shirt up and pull it over my head. I throw the towel to the corner of the bed and snuggle into my beddings, taking a deep sniff of my mom's T-shirt, searching for any trace of her scent. I fall asleep like this, one hand holding the neck of the t-shirt over my nose.
When I see the brown eyes staring deep into mine, the searing pain etched in them that they try to conceal, I awake with a start, almost toppling myself off the bed. I can hardly believe that I had dreamt it. Those eyes had seemed so real, so intense. I could swear some of the pain behind them had tried to seep into me, the eyes begging me to relieve it.