by T. R. Hamby
It took her a long time to catch her breath. Finally she looked at Nora, steeling herself.
“Tell me everything.”
Michael
He paced the living room, walking a rut into his new flooring. He was in his condo, and right now Nora was telling Gilla the horrible truth about him. He was so anxious he felt like he might vomit, which he had never done before. He held his hands behind his head, trying to take deep breaths.
She would hate him. Trust was such an important thing to Gilla--how could it not be, after what had happened to her? She had been hurt in the worst of ways--and now the first man she trusted again was turning out to be a monster.
She would be crushed.
He looked around wildly. She had chosen the painting on the wall--an original. The rug was also her touch, the books on the shelves too. It was staggering, seeing her everywhere.
He loved her. He had thought he couldn’t love a human--only Mel had ever done that. But he had stuck to her like gum; he couldn’t keep away, even if he tried. She was special. And now he was losing her, to his own wickedness, his own evil.
He moaned. Agatha was right; if there was any true justice in the world, he would be dead.
He eventually wore himself out pacing, and lied down on the couch, feeling dizzy. He stared at the ceiling, and his heart pounded in his chest. He wished it would be over already.
It was about two hours later when he finally heard Nora Call.
Michael.
He sprang to his feet, breathing quickly, hands shaking. He took a moment to focus; he didn’t want to fuck up Traveling. He took a step backward; the world wrenched itself upside down, and then he was standing outside Nora’s door.
He stared at it for a long moment. He felt sick again. He didn’t think he could do it.
Finally the door opened, and Nora’s soft brown eyes looked back at him.
“Come on, Michael,” she said gently, giving him a reassuring smile, and he felt a surge of hope.
He followed her in, and she shut the door behind him.
He stood there. Gilla was on the couch, holding a mug of tea, staring at him. She had been crying; her eyes and nose were scarlet. But she didn’t look angry...she didn’t look cold. She studied him for a long moment.
Then she stood, setting her mug on the coffee table. She slowly approached, until she was right in front of him, her blue eyes gentle.
She looked...forgiving.
He finally broke down. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…”
She threw her arms around his neck, and they sank onto their knees, holding each other and crying.
“I’m sorry…”
“Shh.” She rubbed his shoulders, kissed his cheek.
He tried to compose himself, taking deep breaths.
“You don’t...have to be with me,” he whispered, though he clung to her. “I understand.”
He was surprised to hear her voice was firm. “Don’t be silly,” she replied soothingly.
That was all that was said for a while. Nora stepped out, apparently to “run an errand,” and Michael and Gilla sat on the couch together, Gilla drawn close in his arms. They were quiet, happy in each other’s company, relieved that they could still be together--even after that.
“Let’s go to Stockholm. When the show is over,” Gilla whispered, finally breaking the silence. “We can stay with my parents for a couple days. They have a cabin nearby--there’s a lake, trails. What do you think?”
He closed his eyes. He was so relieved, so happy to hear her say that; he was nearly dizzy again.
He kissed her temple, holding her tight. “Yeah.”
Gilla smiled. “Good.” She was tracing her fingers along his arm, and her touch relaxed him even more.
She turned her head in his direction, her brow brushing his chin. “Will you tell me more?” she whispered.
He nearly laughed, still high off of relief. “Anything you want,” he replied, kissing her again. “The worst is over.”
“Everything? Tonight?”
“It might take longer than tonight to tell you everything. I’ve been...around for a while.”
She frowned and nodded. “Maybe just the basics, then.”
He pulled away a little, so he could study her. She looked at him, her face calm, tender.
He reached out and brushed at her cheek. “You’re really okay with this?”
She frowned, considering the question.
Michael couldn’t help but worry. She was strong, stronger than she knew, but she was still easily spooked--easily afraid. It was a marvel that she was so calm now, after learning the most monumental secret about life, their Existence, about God and his servants.
Gilla finally sighed. “I trust you,” she said firmly. “I am still...processing. But so long as I have you...I’ll be okay.”
He held her hand. There was something he wanted to say, now that she had said that.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he began firmly, “anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to live with me...we don’t have to be...exclusive, or whatever. You’re free to do whatever makes you happy.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her face indecipherable. Then she whispered, “What do you want?”
He hesitated. “Does that matter?”
“Of course it does,” she said firmly. “It matters to me.”
He looked away, thinking. He had always been more preoccupied with what Gilla wanted, what made her happy. He had hoped, since the beginning, that she would want to keep seeing him, keep spending time with him. And he had gotten lucky, every step of the way.
Michael finally looked at her, feeling cautious. “What we have...I’ve never done it before. It doesn’t happen for Angels. But...I want to be with you. I want to live with you. I want to see you happy.”
He shrugged, feeling himself flush. “That’s it.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “A man of few words,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. He flushed again, and she giggled.
She sat up a little straight, a mischievous look on her face. “I have one condition,” she announced, and he smiled.
“Really.”
“Yes.”
He gently grabbed her waist, pulling her into his lap, making her giggle.
“I didn’t realize this was going to be conditional,” he teased. “Maybe I’ll say no.”
“You would really say no to me?” she shot back, pretending to pout. “I thought you loved me.”
He looked at her. He had never said it aloud, though it had been obvious to both of them how they felt for each other. Gilla had never said it either, until now.
He loved her, truly loved her. The one thing he had been sure could never happen had, in fact, happened. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it. He was the second Angel in history to fall in love. It was miraculous.
He smirked. “What is it?”
She looked smug. “I refuse to live with you,” she said, “unless you get a piano for your music room.”
“For what?” he replied, tickling her. She squirmed, giggling, and he kissed her neck. “I can’t play piano.”
“I can, silly,” she laughed. She stilled, and they looked at each other, smiling.
He reached up, running his hand through her hair. “What kind of piano do you want?”
Gilla beamed, and tears appeared in her eyes. “A Steinway. Please.” Then she kissed him, and he moaned, pulling her close. He was overwhelmed with happiness, and a sudden need for her, and they became almost frantic, their hands wandering.
He heard the door open, and they broke apart, looking around.
Nora looked amused, an eyebrow raised. “Good. We’re all happy now. But I’d rather you not defile my couch, please,” and she went into the kitchen to finish making dinner.
They talked through dinner, Michael and Nora giving Gilla a crash course in all things divine. She had so many questions, and the three talked well into the night. Michael and Gilla agre
ed to spend the night, and they slipped into the guestroom, tumbling onto the bed, trying to get as close to each other as possible.
They were up late. Gilla curled into him, resting her head on his chest, and he traced his fingers along her back. She fell asleep quickly, which amazed him, considering all she had learned today.
He was happy. More happy than he had been in millennia. If he had known of Gilla’s eventual existence--of what she would do to him--all those years ago, he would have been happy, hopeful.
She was his best friend, and he would do everything in his power to make her happy.
He was just starting to drift off when he frowned, opening his eyes. He could hear something...someone Calling.
Michael! Michael!
It was Mel.
He would have bolted upright if it wasn’t for Gilla asleep on his chest. He shook her, trying to be gentle, and she stirred.
“Hmm?”
“It’s my brother,” he said quickly, slipping out from under her. “Shit--where’s my shirt?”
Michael!
Gilla sat up, finding Michael’s shirt and handing it to him.
“He’s Calling you?” she breathed, her eyes wide with amazement. “He can come back?”
“Yes--he’s awake,” he replied, hopping into his pants. “I have to tell Nora--hold on.”
And he left the room, rushing to the master bedroom. He didn’t bother to knock, but burst in, bending over her and shaking her awake. “Nora!”
“Jesus, Michael,” she cried, rubbing at her eyes. “What? Is it Gilla?”
“It’s Mel,” he said, and she sat up, going pale. “He’s Calling.”
“Oh my god,” she breathed, and she jumped out of bed. “Oh my god--he’s ready? He can come back?”
MICHAEL!
“I’m going now, he’s screaming at me,” he said.
And then he tipped backward, descending past dimensions, to a Place he hated visiting. Darkness enveloped him, and a horrible chill crept up his spine.
He landed. It was very dim here, and very cold. A lone mountain stood some miles away, and the ground was rocky beneath his feet. He could hear the wailing, the screams of the damned in the distance. They were horrible screams, and reminded him painfully of Mel’s, when Lilith had been killed.
He looked around, and Mel appeared, wearing the same clothes he had been wearing twelve months ago, during their last disastrous conversation. He looked Ageless again, his face younger, smoother, his body a little more fit.
His blue eyes were piercing, and he looked almost frantic.
“Nora? Is she okay?” he asked desperately.
“She’s fine--she’s great,” Michael replied reassuringly.
“She’s healthy?”
“Yes, she’s healthy.”
He let out a breath, clearly relieved. “How long has it been?”
“A year,” Michael said, “almost to the day, actually. You’re very punctual this time around.”
Mel nodded, though Michael wasn’t sure he was fully listening.
“She’s...expecting me?” he said, and Michael heard worry in his voice, as if he was afraid Nora didn’t love him anymore.
He felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to Mel being emotional around him--they were always so tense with each other.
Michael nodded. “She’s been missing you.”
Mel nodded too, looking relieved again. “Right...right. Well--what time is it? Is she sleeping?”
“She wouldn’t care anyway,” Michael pointed out, “but she’s awake; I woke her. Let’s go.”
He held out his hand, and Mel grabbed it instantly. Michael didn’t waste time, and together they stepped backward, falling upwards through time and space.
Mel
He was awake, finally awake. He had been in the deepest of sleeps for twelve months, completely oblivious to all things. It was always strange waking up--he had found himself at the foot of a mountain, lying in the gravel, and he had no idea how he had gotten there.
But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Nora. It had been a year; was she all right? Safe? Happy? He had trusted Michael to watch over her--but was she really okay?
He landed hard, but his balance was better now, and he didn’t topple over this time.
He looked around, letting go of Michael’s hand. They were in Nora’s living room. The lights were on. Things looked different--there was a new rug, a new color on the walls.
And on the couch was Nora. His heart stilled. She was wearing leggings and one of his T-shirts, her curly hair tousled. She was staring, her eyes wide and her face pale. A blonde woman was sitting beside her, gripping her hand, but he barely noticed. Nora sprang to her feet, sprinting to him, and Mel caught her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Oh god, Mel,” she moaned, holding him so tightly she was practically strangling him. “Thank god, thank god.”
“You’re okay?” he breathed. Tears were in his eyes, and his voice was hoarse. “You’re really okay?”
She laughed. “Yes, yes...god...I can’t believe you’re here...tell me this is real…”
They sank to the floor, crying and laughing. Mel closed his eyes, smelling her scent, feeling her soft curls on his skin, her body under his arms. Time had passed much more quickly for him, being asleep, but it still felt like an eternity had passed since he had last seen her.
He pulled away to look at her, and they studied each other hungrily.
She held his face in her hands. “You look so young,” she whispered, and he laughed.
“Regeneration,” he replied, brushing at her cheek, “much better than Botox.”
She laughed giddily, brushing at her tears. “God, Mel. I’m so happy--I’m so glad you’re okay...I’m so…”
She trailed off and kissed him hard, and he held her. The kiss was so sweet, and he tensed; his body knew it had not kissed her in so long.
“Nora,” Michael’s voice said gently, and they broke apart.
Mel looked around; he had forgotten Michael was there. He was standing by the couch, and--to Mel’s amazement--was holding the blonde woman’s hand.
He stared, bewildered, and Michael shifted awkwardly.
“We’re going back to bed,” he said slowly, and the woman got to her feet. “Unless you want us to go home.”
“No, stay,” Nora said, smiling at him.
Mel frowned. Michael was staying the night, along with a woman he seemed...familiar with. And what was more, the way he and Nora were speaking to each other was...close. It seemed they knew each other a lot better now than they had when Mel had left--and they seemed to like it.
Michael nodded, still awkward.
“Oh,” Nora said suddenly, shaking herself. She stood, and Mel followed. “Mel--this is Gilla Johansson,” she said, gesturing to the woman, “our good friend. She and I are singing together in Le Nozze di Figaro.”
Mel tried to absorb this information without looking overwhelmed. He and Nora held hands tightly, and Nora hugged his arm; they had to be close to each other.
Gilla spoke first, smiling shyly. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said in a Swedish accent. She was tall, almost as tall as Michael, with pale hair and deep blue eyes. Mel noticed her hand, which was trailing up Michael’s waist, almost absentmindedly. Michael, in turn, was quite close to her, though he was studying Mel warily.
Mel smiled at her. “Tjenare.”
She brightened. “Oh, you speak Swedish too,” she said, glancing at Michael. Then she closed her eyes, shaking herself. “Oh--I forgot…”
Michael chuckled. “The Angel thing?”
She nodded, flushing.
Mel looked between the two of them. “So you know?” he asked her.
She nodded. “I just found out today.”
“We have a lot of catching up to do,” Nora said, squeezing his arm soothingly.
“Are you sure you can tell him alone?” Michael asked, and Mel instantly felt his head twitch.
Nora not
iced, and squeezed his arm again. “Easy. He’s just offering to help.”
This didn’t really help him relax, as he had never heard her defend Michael before. This was already proving to be the strangest return to Earth he had ever experienced.
Nora looked at Michael. “We’re good. Go to bed; we’ll see you in the morning. It’s your turn to make breakfast, by the way.”
Michael, who had been following Gilla to the guestroom, did a double-take.
“What? It’s your turn.”
“No, remember? I made prima colazione last week.”
“That was the week before,” he said, giving her a look. “I made pancakes last week.”
“Fine,” she finally said, feigning exasperation. “I don’t want your lumpy pancakes again anyway.”
“Whatever,” he shot back, but his lips were twitching.
Now Mel was completely mystified.
She must have seen the look on his face, because she took his hand, studying him worriedly.
“You okay?” she murmured, brushing at his cheek.
He shivered at her touch, and his bewilderment faded somewhat. He relaxed, remembering that they were together again, after so long...and she was safe, happy…
They embraced again, and for a long moment were quiet, holding each other close.
He frowned a little. “Did you miss me?” he whispered.
It was Nora’s turn to look bewildered, pulling away to study him. “Did I miss you?” She breathed. “Why would you ask that? I missed you more than anything.”
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I just…”
She looked at him tenderly, squeezing his hand. “You were afraid I wouldn’t love you anymore,” she said softly.
He felt himself flush, embarrassed. The idea seemed ridiculous when spoken aloud. This was Nora, after all. His best friend.
He cupped her face in his hand, loving the look of her eyes.
“Maybe there’s some singer you met while I was gone,” he said teasingly. “Someone prettier than me. Who can actually play duets with you on the piano.”
She smiled tenderly. “No. There’s never been anyone for me but you, love.”