by S S Bazinet
I’m here, my dear friend! I would never desert you!
His words hit the hard, icy wall that stood between them. It was a barrier that came from a very deep fear in Arel’s subconscious. It was there again in spite of all the years that Michael had been working to tear it down. It had taken so long for him to be allowed to touch Arel’s hand in friendship, to convince Arel that in some small way that he was wanted in the world. It had taken so long to try to repair some of the deep wounds of ignorance, hatred, and betrayal that had accumulated from this life and others.
I haven’t left you, and I promise that I never will!
But Arel had been trying to escape for so long. Now, he was pulling back once again, issuing orders. “Hands off!”
Arel was retreating from everything and everyone. Michael had to figure out how to convince him otherwise. But glancing ahead at events that had been set into motion, he didn’t know how.
* * * * *
Tim and Kevin were watching Arel. They were keen observers of this stranger that had become so important to Peggy. If questioned, they’d have to admit that they too had begun to fall under his mysterious spell of fragility. Arel invited caretaking. As soon as the two of them rescued him from his ungracious fall the night before, they were both pulled into guardianship. Neither of them thought about his new role. It was simply something that had been activated in their brains, or maybe in their hearts.
“He’s going to faint!” Kevin yelled when he saw Arel’s body begin to sway. Moving with the speed of a football running back, he dashed around the hospital bed. This time he was successful in his effort to catch Arel. Tim was right behind him, helping to stabilize Arel’s descent.
“Good golly,” Kevin gasped. “This guy can’t stay on his feet.”
* * * * *
Peggy let out a cry of distress as she watched Arel break their connection by fainting. “I guess I sprang the family idea on him too soon,” she moaned with regret and tears. “I was just trying to give him the support he needs.”
“Of course you were,” Carol said as she rushed over and took Peggy’s hand.
Peggy started to sob. “What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t have been so demanding!”
Carol squeezed her hand. “Don’t blame yourself. I think you’re very sweet, very caring. How were you supposed to know that Arel would react this way?”
“Still, this is terrible!” Peggy remembered the dream she’d had and the part that she’d forgotten. When she held the puppy too tight, Glory took it back, telling her that she had to lighten her touch. If she wanted to assist him, she’d have to win over his confidence first. Perhaps Peggy hadn’t wanted to remember that part. If there was one failing that she hadn’t overcome, it was being impatient, especially when she was worried. She wanted to make things right, instantly. Now she’d made a major mistake. Before Arel passed out, he had stared at her with more fear and distrust than ever.
Forty-One
AREL OPENED HIS eyes and shut them again. He didn’t know where he was, but a name escaped his lips. “Michael!” he whispered hoarsely.
“Who’s Michael?” Carol asked as she abandoned Peggy and joined the men leaning over Arel.
Arel stared at her for a moment, and it all came back. His wonderful fog of forgetfulness cleared.
Michael’s nobody. A figment of my imagination.
“A friend,” he lied. It had become a habit. He always tried to make things sound better than they were. The truth was too painful. Now he realized how long he’d been lying to himself.
“Do you want me to call him for you?” Carol asked.
Arel’s attention flickered from her to the men and then to Peggy, the horrid person who wouldn’t let him go. “No, I’ll be okay. It’s hospitals, I don’t do well in them.”
“That’s for sure,” Tim said as he helped Arel up. “But maybe you should sit down for a few minutes.”
The thought made Arel stiffen with resolve. There was no way he was going to stay in the room a minute longer. “No, I have to go.”
“I can walk you to the elevator,” Carol volunteered.
He took a couple of breaths and steadied himself. “I’m alright now. I just had a momentary, panic attack.”
“Please be careful driving home,” Peggy called from the bed. “You don’t want to end up like me.”
“I’ll be careful,” he answered.
I’ll be careful to stay away from you from now on, no matter what.
He gave Carol and the men a short wave as he started out of the room. He walked to the elevator in a daze of depression. He should have felt some sort of victory. He’d escaped Peggy, but at what cost? He’d discovered how deluded he was.
I created the perfect illusion, an angel to watch over me. What a glorious ruse.
His grandmother had told him about guardian angels when she held him in her arms. She’d come to visit unexpectantly when he was eight. She’d been told that Arel was sick. Still, she insisted on seeing him. Even though she was an emotionally steady woman, she cried when she saw him. He was barely able to reach out for her with his small, battered limbs.
“Your guardian angel sent me here,” she said. “Soon, I’ll take you home with me.” She made the promise as she cradled him against her. She tried to be careful, but every inch of Arel’s body screamed out in misery as she rocked him. He could stand the pain. He was used to it. As long as he could cling to her, as long as he could hold on to the thought that she’d take him away with her, he was happy. Finally, someone would want him.
His grandmother never kept her promise. His father was a proud man. He forbade her in his house after she told him what she thought of him. She fought back, begged him to relent, but in the end, she lost. She died a couple of years later without Arel ever seeing her again.
Standing at the elevator, he thought about how courageous she’d been to stand up to his father. If only she hadn’t been driven away, how different his life might have been.
I would have had a chance at happiness.
When the elevator doors opened, he remembered Mrs. Hayes. Her eyes were kind and understanding like his grandmother’s. She had asked him to visit her.
Visit her? After what I just went through with Peggy?
But he found himself thinking about his grandmother’s arms, how safe he felt in their embrace. He looked over at the directory posted next to the elevator, searching for the cardiac floor. Maybe Michael was a delusion, but Mrs. Hayes was real.
* * * * *
When Arel appeared in the doorway of Mrs. Hayes’ room, the nurse who sat by her bed, looked up.
“I’m sorry, sir, but only family are allowed in here at this time.”
Arel’s anxious gaze swept over the room. Something was wrong. The nurse’s voice had a nervous tremor, and Mrs. Hayes lay too still in the bed. The room itself was filled with a heavy, somber energy.
His body came to attention as his mind came up with immediate answers, a clear knowing that flooded in without any effort on his part. First of all, there was only one reason for the nurse to be sitting there. Mrs. Hayes was dying and there was no one else to witness the event. Secondly, the nurse was very young and afraid. She’d never been alone with a dying patient before.
He was sure he’d interpreted the situation correctly. But his sudden ability to ‘know’ things expanded. When he glanced at Mrs. Hayes again, his insights exploded into a visual feast of her life. From birth to death, her days on the earth revealed themselves to him. Her life became a flip book of images. He saw her as a curly haired girl in a yellow dress, as a young, pretty woman taking a handsome man’s hand in marriage, as a mother who nursed skinned knees and a daughter’s first steps into adulthood. He saw her growing old with an enduring dignity and grace. Her book of life was bound in strength and goodness. A feeling of gentle concern for others was a part of every page.
He came back to himself with a gasp.
What the hell is going on?
His sudde
n visions and insights scared him. How could he tap into facts about a woman who was a stranger? How could he know all that stuff? Again, there was a simple explanation.
I’m having more delusions of grandeur. If I can’t have angels around, I’ll make myself some psychic, super hero.
But one part was true. Mrs. Hayes was dying. He was sure of it.
“I’m her grandson.” His lie was delivered in a firm, truthful tone as he let himself into the room and walked over to the bed. If delusions were all that he had left, he’d use them.
The young nurse stood up and smiled. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ll give you some privacy.” She started to leave and paused next to him. “If you need anything just press the buzzer.”
He nodded and watched her go. He could feel her fear dissolve at her good fortune. For a moment, he felt her burden shift to his own shoulders.
What am I doing? Why am I here? I have to leave this room too, before . . . before—
But he didn’t leave. He loved the story he began to tell himself. He looked at Mrs. Hayes with relief.
You’re my grandmother now. I waited for you to come back for me. Now I’ve come to you.
He lifted her hand and held it carefully, examining it, caressing its softness, wishing away the bruises with a kiss. There was no malice there to frighten him. Her frail hand held the capacity to stroke his face in kindness, not slap it in anger or abhorrence like his mother’s hand, to soothe his fears, not add to them.
“Is that you, my dear?”
He almost jumped at the sound of Mrs. Hayes’ voice. Her eyes were half open as she looked up at him. After a moment, he relaxed as he felt the concern in her gaze.
“Hello,” he said with as much reverence as possible. He hadn’t seen his grandmother in so long, but now he’d been given a second chance to be with her.
But it’s not my grandmother, is it?
A cruel, unwanted part of him was trying to spoil everything, but he pushed it away, clinging to a part of his past that he needed desperately.
“My dear?” Mrs. Hayes’ gaze widened as if she was trying to get her bearings too.
“Yes, I’m here.”
She smiled. “I thought I saw my husband when he was a young man.” Her breath was short and difficult. “But now I know you. I met you yesterday. Oh, your face . . . what happened?”
“I’m surprised that you can recognize me. I had an accident.”
“Are you alright?”
He nodded and replaced her hand on the bed carefully, like he’d handled a sacred object.
Mrs. Hayes’ eyes were watery blue orbs of mildness and equanimity as her confusion seemed to clear. “I’m so glad to see you again. I didn’t think you’d remember me, that you’d bother with an old lady.”
“Really? Why wouldn’t I?”
She smiled shyly, a school girl in an aged body. “A young, handsome man like yourself? You must have more important things to do than spend time with an old lady.”
He looked down. “You couldn’t be more mistaken. I’m nothing.”
“Nonsense, from the moment I saw you, I knew that you were very special.” She tried to lift the hand he’d been admiring, but she couldn’t manage it.
He picked it up again, eager to help. At once, she used his strength to press on, to reach out for his face. Her hand trembled with the effort, but she touched him with so much love and fondness. It was a grandmother’s touch.
If only she didn’t have to leave me with my parents? If only she could have taken me with her?
The boy in him hated his father for what he’d done to his grandmother, how he’d screamed at her, called her horrid names and banished her forever.
“I’m so sorry for everything,” he said, wanting to forget his father and all his cruelty.
Mrs. Hayes let out a compassionate sigh. “My dear boy, we all have to die, but now I have you here with me, so I won’t die alone.” She followed her explanation with another smile, a smile that contained a lifetime of nurturing.
Her kindness filled him instantly, soothing the rawness in his heart like a balm. But the feeling was soon replaced by the sound of his father slamming the door, shutting out his grandmother forever.
“Don’t leave me, please,” he begged in a whisper. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
Please, I don’t have anyone else.
Mrs. Hayes’ gaze filled with understanding as if she knew that she was playing a role for the man in front of her.
“Shh, that’s enough of that,” she whispered back. “We have this moment, and for me, it’s perfect. How lucky I am. I have a nice, caring man here with me.”
He started to answer, to explain that he was the lucky one when his vision blurred. A strange ability to see things in a new way made him gasp. Beyond the old woman’s wrinkled skin and failing eyes, a halo of radiance surrounded her. It began to infuse her body with light and transform it.
Oh my god, how beautiful!
An eternal youthfulness replaced fragility and age. Not even Justina was as fair as the woman in front of him. His breath caught with a new joy, knowing he was privy to something extraordinary. He was able to observe the old woman’s true self, her true essence. Perhaps he was witnessing her soul.
“If people could see you like I do, the whole world would be at this bedside. There wouldn’t be any room for me.”
Her hand caressed his cheek again. “Then I’m glad that it’s the way it is. Because, dear one, at this moment, you are my world.” She almost said more, but instead she let out a quiet exhalation. Her eyes went bright and held on to his face for a brief instant before they closed.
Arel’s breath was suspended as the heart monitor by Mrs. Hayes’ bed gave off a warning alarm. It became a loud siren of death. It broke the stillness of the moment that she’d just given him, a moment of complete absolution and adoration.
Arel’s own shrieks of protest joined the sound of the machine. “No! Don’t leave me! I’ll stay with you! I’ll take care of you!”
He clutched at her hand more fiercely, rubbing it to his cheek again, trying to give it his own life. “Please! Don’t leave me!”
But she was gone.
His awareness was still wide open, but now it brought in waves of darkness and abandonment. Justina’s face, lifeless in his arms, flashed through his mind and drove the dagger of loss deeper into his heart. Everything went cold around him except for the tears that filled his eyes. They were hot and harsh reminders that he was utterly alone.
Blinded by his grief, he didn’t see the flurry of activity that began to fill up the room. He didn’t know how to move. It was as if Mrs. Hayes took a part of him with her, the part that he needed to survive.
I’m lost, totally lost!
Finally, the feeling was so excruciating that he couldn’t stand it. Something short circuited inside his mind, and a kind of dullness settled over his perception.
Forty-Two
ABRIGAIL ENTERED THE hospital room as quietly as possible. Michael was by her side. They grabbed Arel’s arms and quickly led him into the hallway as people rushed to Mrs. Hayes’ bedside. He didn’t fight them. He seemed to be in a daze. Abrigail gave Michael a questioning glance. “He can’t see us, even in physical form, can he?”
Michael shook his head. “The trauma he’s experienced is too much. He’s in a mental fog, similar to those times when he passes out physically. He can’t find his way back to the here and now without bringing in all the pain, so he’s blanked us out.”
“What can we do?”
“We have to be prepared for what’s next. When he comes back to us, he’ll be in full battle mode, armed with the knowledge of all that’s been taken from him.”
Abrigail cringed at the thought. She kept going back to it as Michael drove them home from the hospital. There wasn’t any more discussion about what was happening behind the scenes. In silence, she observed Arel’s energy field as it intensified. He sa
t like a wooden soldier in the back seat next to her, but she could see what was behind his blank expression. Some inner, deeper part of him was pooling his anger, his outrage, and all the horror that accompanied his loss. It was gathering in his gut. Muddied, red pools of explosive rage waited for him to awake to his grief, to ignite them with his wrath.
* * * * *
Still in a stupor, Arel made his way through his quarters, contented with the idea that he’d go straight to bed. His mind was nearly void of thought, but sleep would be even better. As he passed through the living area, he noticed a small object on one of the shelves.
I forgot about you.
Going over to the bookcase, he picked up a small, glass angel, a gift from his grandmother. She’d left it behind in his keeping before she was sent away. Her voice was so sweet when she told him about her gift. “This angel’s name is Michael, and he’s a wonderful friend. When you look at him, remember that I love you, and that I’ll see you again very soon.”
His fist tightened as he studied the glass statue and remembered how her words used to repeat over and over in his eight-year-old mind. When his parents made his life hell, he’d lie in his bed holding the figurine up, letting the rays of sunshine refract through the glass. He’d imagine that the colors on his wall belonged to a beautiful angel.
It was all a lie. I started living a lie when I was an ignorant child, and I haven’t stopped.
As a boy, he'd been naïve, always playing his games. He pretended that he'd be like the angel, Michael, someday. Only he'd be a knight with a sword. He'd use it to fight people like his father when they hurt others.
What a dreamer I was.
He began to laugh at himself as his gaze flickered over the large, glass collection that adorned every nook and cranny of several shelves.
I never became a knight. I just learned how to be more of an idiot child. My god, I’m a grown man collecting all these stupid baubles because I’ve refused to grow up.