by Greg Curtis
This was not a job any man could ever be worthy of. Least of all him. And yet it didn’t bother him that he could not ever have done this work; it was simply not part of who and what he was. This was not work for mere mortals to engage in, not even megalomaniacs. It wasn’t even work for angels or titans. There could ever only be one gardener.
“I am sorry”. And even as he said it he was unsure whether he was sorry that he could not help in this work, or in that he had failed the Lord with so much of his life. Perhaps they were the same thing. He bowed his head in shame, but somehow he also knew the gardener had not expected him to be able to help. For Mikel too was but a single cell in one of those plants. His purpose had been to teach him, not to use his services. And the lesson was simple. He could not judge what was completely beyond his comprehension.
Looking around he understood that these gardens, these grassy hills and whatever lay on the other sides of them, were in some way the universe. And it was beautiful.
There were lovely flower gardens festooning the hillsides, great stands of trees, and shrubbery’s without number. It was well tended and well laid out in a seemingly random pattern that somehow had an order too it. It was a place where lovers might come to enjoy a picnic, where birds and small animals would play, where children would come and pick flowers for their hair. And it was a garden that was still growing. He saw that clearly. It was far from finished. Over time the plantings would change, the layout might move, and the trees already tall would become massive. It was still a young garden with endless possibilities before it.
Above all it was a credit to the gardener, and he gave thanks for being allowed to visit it, as well as to be a part of it. He knew he was never going to be able to tend it, but he could at least appreciate its splendour. Which he understood, was the reason he was being shown it. To know that there was a purpose, a destination, for himself, for all life. He might not understand it, no mortal could. But it was there. He gave thanks again.
“Mikel”.
He turned quickly, knowing with sudden blossoming joy who had spoken even though she had never uttered a word. Sherial was with him in the garden, in all her glory. The instant he felt her, he reached for her with his all and they quickly became one again. She was with him again in his heart and soul. Her wings shone in the sunshine, her halo extended around her like a super nova, and her love overpowered him. Moreover he dimly understood Sherial was speaking in the same way she always had, but now he was finally communicating with her fully. He understood everything she said, everything she meant, everything she felt and was. As Sherial understood him. It was a gift.
“Sherial”, he screamed her name and ran to her, overjoyed to know the wonder of her again as he crushed her in his arms. The feel of her soft skin, the smell of her infinitely sweet perfume, the touch of her cheek against his. Her warmth against his flesh. It was a miracle beyond his understanding. He had almost accepted that his life, this after life would be a barren desert, lived without her, and now here she was and he knew there was no way he could ever live apart. It was almost too much to bear, yet he would not let go.
“Thank God!” and then as he held her he realized what he’d said. “Thank you Lord.” He should have realized that an angel could go where a mortal couldn’t, even to the lands of the dead. Tears of joy ran uncontrollably down his cheeks and he gave not a toss as he kissed her endlessly. Vaguely he wondered how he could possibly be doing this when he was certain he had no physical body left, but it was irrelevant in the wonder that was. Nothing else could ever matter.
“I thought I’d lost you.” And as he spoke the words he knew again how much he’d nearly lost. And how much Sherial must have nearly lost too. For he finally understood they were joined. He had lost his heart and soul to her; she in turn had given hers to him. Neither could ever live as an entire person alone again, but together they were greater than the sum of their parts.
Mikel squeezed her tight, wanting with all his being to have her inside him forever. Sherial held him with every bit as much passion. He wanted to tell her everything that had been, to share his wonder and understanding with her, but words became unimportant in their need to be together. To be one again, body and soul. Together they felt the first stirrings of physical desire, which quickly became rivers raging through them, then torrential floods, sweeping aside everything before them.
In seconds they were tearing at each other’s clothes, a barrier between them and paradise, and he was laying her gently down on the soft grass, nothing else important. All he could think about was making love to her, here in the Lord’s sight, so he could give them his blessing. Or then again was that Sherial’s thought? It became so hard to tell where one began and the other ended. That was a large part of the joy.
“I love you.” Neither was sure who had spoken if either had, but both agreed completely. Bodies and souls joined in an exquisite dance of love, while all around them the garden sang of its own love, supporting them, encouraging them, adding its own joy. As he moved inside her, Mikel felt her moving inside him, until it became unclear who was who. It was also unimportant. Dimly he or she realized that this was completely impossible, that they couldn’t be making love without flesh and blood, but then again obviously they could.
The moment came and it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. For instead of a physical thing, or even a closeness of their hearts and minds, together they shared the wonder of the universe as it streamed through them both. For a brief moment Mikel and Sherial together understood everything there was to know. The meaning of life, the questions of life before and after death, and the origin of the universe, and yet none of it mattered by comparison with the glory in their arms.
The knowledge vanished like water through a sieve but the love remained.
Afterwards as they lay in each other’s arms in heaven all he could think was that he could never be happier than right at this moment. Nor could he ever stand to be apart from her. Mikel wasn’t alone in that either. It was going to be difficult he guessed when Sherial had to return to the Earth to carry out her duties while he remained here in the lands of the dead. And what he wondered would he do here? What would he do alone? Though it was selfish, he suddenly knew he didn’t want her to leave, ever.
“You’re not dead.” Her thoughts confused him, but not as much as what lay behind them. “You’re just on the edge, awaiting a decision.” For the first time there was another feeling in this paradise, an emotion he almost didn’t recognize, worry. For the first time ever, Sherial was worried.
At first he didn’t understand, the concept meaning nothing at all too him. Then he did and her words, her thoughts suddenly terrified him, for what lay behind them was too horrible to contemplate. If he wasn’t all the way dead then there was still a chance he could lose her when he passed the rest of the way through. More than a chance he realized, Sherial was sure. All the warmth of what had been vanished in a single instant as terror took him by the throat. It took them both, as they discovered a fear shared could be a fear multiplied. All reason fled as suddenly neither knew what to do.
“Lord.” In an instant he was begging, knowing that to lose her now would be hell in truth. And yet he knew there was nothing he could do. His body was destroyed, no doubt rotting by that lovely pool, but hopefully in time giving up its nutrients to sustain other creatures. He didn’t miss it except for the fact that he couldn’t live with Sherial without it. More importantly, Sherial might not live without him. He had to be somewhere for her to be with him.
“Please, please, let me survive.” No matter how bad the injuries he knew he wanted to survive if only to be with Sherial, to do his duty by her. “I’ll go to church every day. I’ll stop lying, stop stealing. I’ll never eat meat again. I’ll do anything. Anything at all. Only let me live with Sherial at least till old age takes me.” And yet even as he begged for that he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He lied even as he begged. He couldn’t ever be separated from her even by death. It
could not be allowed.
The look in the gardener’s eyes wasn’t what he’d prayed for. It spoke of compassion and love, infinite mercy and absolute understanding, but it also spoke of the natural order of things. It said volumes about his being where he was and accepting his fate. It told him his old life was over and he had to move on. Mikel the human was finished. He had a new life to live, a new place that he was expected. It was something he had to accept. But Mikel could never do that. His terror multiplied like puddles in the rain. It was a deluge.
“Only let me stay here, until its Sherial’s time too.” He screamed it, too torn apart with fear to think straight. This garden was the only hope he could see, and he allowed himself to hope, maybe for a fraction of a second it would be enough. But it wasn’t.
“I give my wings for Mikel.”
For an instant Mikel didn’t understand her, and then he did and a new level of horror opened in his heart. An express elevator straight back down to Hell. Sherial wanted to become mortal simply to be with him. There was a gone feeling in his guts to match the horror.
“No”, he screamed his denial with every fibre of his being. It was an abomination to even have suggested it. Sherial was an angel. It wasn’t just a winged body, or some special powers. It was what she was. Her soul, her essence was angel. To become a mortal would destroy her, as turning him into a cockroach in body, mind and soul, would him. And the truest horror of it was that she knew the cost, she feared it as nothing else she could imagine, and still was willing to pay it for him.
The gardener stared at her for the longest time, a look that Mikel couldn’t understand. But then he held out his hand for her and she moved to accept it.
“No.” The word was torn out of his throat in his mindless terror. Mikel could never allow it. He understood instantly and without a shadow of a doubt that if she held his hand the bargain would be made. He threw her to the ground and pinned her with his body, desperation in his move. Sherial was far stronger than him, and he knew it.
Before he had her arms properly pinned she’d used her wings to flip him over and was suddenly straddling him. Sherial too was desperate. She wanted him to live as much as he wanted her to be whole, and she was far more powerful than he. But she’d moved too fast, and reckoned without his weight or the years of jujitsu.
Before she could rise he’d twisted her hand cruelly, and flipped her once more. This time he managed to get both of her arms underneath her waist before a series of devastating punches with both wings told him he was in serious trouble. His nose broke under the impacts, and blood poured out of his mouth in rivulets.
Finally one punch dazed him too much, and he let go a hand.
It was all she needed. In an instant he found himself flying chaotically in a dazzling arc towards the distant hills, while Sherial was rising quickly, her destination certain.
Rivers of adrenaline suddenly became storm charged floods. Landing in a rolling dive, he turned and sprinted faster than he’d ever moved before, tackling her this time from behind, wrapping his arms around her feet and tripping her before she’d made more than a few steps. His weight on top of her again he pinned one arm and one leg together in a classic wrestling hold, and held on for dear life; hers.
“No! Let me die!” He screamed it at her, knowing she heard, and that she would never agree. But there was nothing else he could say. How long could he hold? Already her wings were lifting both of them off the ground. How could she possibly be so strong? In the end it didn’t matter. She was and he simply had to be stronger and that was all there was.
“Live. Love me.” Her cries tore through him like a tornado, bringing him to his knees. They were the terrible crux of it. If she won he might live, for a while, and she might live, for a while. But that life would be too horrible for words. She would be so much less than she was that it would destroy her, while he would be torn apart by guilt and shame in turn. In time she might even become as those they had just fought, something he couldn’t even stand to think about. It wouldn’t be a life, it would be a living hell for them both, and they both knew it. At least if he died she could be who and what she was.
A sudden movement nearly undid him totally as she used her wings to flip them both. Still with her arm and leg pinned behind her, she started lifting them both. He understood her intent even before she started the plunge, her body slamming his into the ground. Her wings lifted them both off the ground and then let them plummet like a stone, while her body weight impacted squarely on his lungs driving out the air. He felt flesh and ground give and wondered which hurt most. He held on regardless of the pain. What else could he do?
It quickly became a contest of endurance. Could he hold on long enough to wear her down? He had mass on his side, and a nearly unbreakable hold. Sherial had wings and the strength of an angel. They both had adrenaline born of desperation.
With each slam he felt himself being drained a little more, as the breath kept rushing out of his lungs and not enough replaced it. But with each lift he felt her tiredness growing as wings not used to this sort of load - least of all in reverse - struggled. Neither of them knew who would win.
“I love you”. They spoke the words, the thoughts, together, each knowing that they both meant them, and that it changed nothing. The slamming continued like an insane demolition derby. Surely Mikel thought, even the grass underneath them must be suffering.
Finally a rib went twang and Mikel suddenly knew he was in trouble, deep trouble. Sherial’s heavenly strength was winning out, and her free arm was taking a terrible toll on his rib cage, and together with each slam the broken rib was making it harder for him to breath. Red and green danced in front of his eyes. Soon things would start to go black. Desperation gave him a little more strength, but it wouldn’t last long and they both knew it. It was time for desperate measures. Mikel had only one chance.
On her next lift, he surprised Sherial by letting her go, and propelling her suddenly backwards with his arms and legs. Even as she was flying backwards he was landing in a roll and running towards the gardener.
“End this”.
In a running dive he hurled himself at him like superman on a bad day, while Sherial screamed in his soul, causing him greater pain than all the demons of hell put together. She finally understood his intentions but she wasn’t fast enough to stop him. She wouldn’t have guessed his goal until it was far too late. How could she, she’d never even understood the concept of death let alone suicide? His entire being was pushed into that one final move, knowing it was the last he would ever make. But at least he knew he’d make it.
Love and joy that Sherial would live was all that remained to him as he made contact.
Then even that was gone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
“An angel can illuminate the thought and mind of man by strengthening the power of vision.”
~St Thomas Aquinas
Against all the laws of creation, Mikel awoke, and the universe reeled around him like a thousand dancers spinning around a drunken ballerina. Nothing made sense, and the ceiling was moving faster than the eye could follow. His face was a giant mass of pain, and his ribs ached as though they’d been run over by a Mac truck. He would have been sick if there’d been anything in his stomach.
He was in his bed. He finally found just enough sense to recognize his own ceiling. He’d painted it often enough. Recognition led to recall and in a moment of horror his memories came flooding back.
“Sherial!”
He screamed her name with a strength born of uncontrollable panic. Dread assailed him, as he thought of the barren horror that his life would be without her, or the shear hell it would become if she had mutilated herself for him. He panicked and reached out with everything he had, heart, mind and soul.
He didn’t have to reach far as he found her lying on top of him.
“About time you woke up.” He couldn’t see her, in fact he couldn’t see anything at all until the room stopped spinning, but he knew eno
ugh to know there was laughter in her voice, even though she wasn’t using her voice. For his ears heard her cooing while his heart heard her thoughts as clearly as he knew his own. Much more clearly.
Despite the comfort of her thoughts, he couldn’t still his dread. His panicked hands ran over her bare skin, hunting, searching, and with infinite relief, finally finding feathers. Glorious, soft, luxurious, perfect feathers, covering her like a thick downy blanket. Covering them both. He hugged them to him, almost unable to accept their reality in the giddiness that threatened him.
“Oh thank God!” And then after a few seconds thought. “Thank God?”
She just laughed. “Who else?” He laughed with her, not understanding a thing, but who else indeed? He was alive when he should be dead, or at least he thought he was alive, and Sherial was still an angel. He laughed some more, the emotion welling up from somewhere deep inside and the release from fear brought tears of joy to his eyes. The laughter quickly became hysterical, and the tears torrents. Distantly he realised he had become a complete emotional wreck and finally couldn’t care less. All he knew was that Sherial was in his arms. That was much more important than the need to remain in control. More important than life itself.