Lucian Divine

by Renee Carlino

  I squinted at her. “You mean you’re actually capable of feeling compassion? I need my paycheck please.”

  She scoffed and then pulled an envelope from her pocket and handed it to me. “Don’t push me. Don’t spend all this money on alcohol either. Go enjoy your hours. Get laid for God’s sake, Lucian.”

  “For God’s sake? Really, Mona? Why not for my sake?” I yelled. “Why is everything for him?”

  She flew off in the other direction, mumbling something about being underpaid.

  I drank only half the bottle on Evey’s stoop before cutting myself off. Proud moment. I was really growing up after two thousand years. I popped into Evey’s room because I hadn’t heard any noise and I wanted to make sure everyone was still breathing. They were. It smelled like bad breath—Keith’s, not hers of course.

  They were fine, all wrapped up in each other. Magic hour was over, and time was speeding up, which was sometimes dizzying for angels. When I stumbled back against Evey’s dresser, she startled awake. She shouldn’t have been able to hear me. She jerked and inadvertently woke Keith up.

  “Hey, babe,” he said groggily.

  What a dweeb.

  “Babe?” Evey asked.

  “Yeah, we had a crazy night last night, huh?”

  “What are you talking about?” Oh no, this was all going to blow up in my face. She leaned in toward Keith’s, to look into his eyes. “You look different. You seem different.”

  “I don’t really remember much from last night,” Keith said. “I think I blacked out. Did we do it?”

  “No, remember, you said you were… that you had…” She glanced toward his pants area.

  Keith jumped out of bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t have to be a bitch.”

  I was about to slap this fool, but then I realized it was kind of my fault. I moved across the room and knelt by Evey’s bed. “Let him leave,” I whispered. “Let him walk away.”

  She was staring off into space. Could she hear me?

  “I was nice to you about it,” she said weakly as Keith tied his shoes at the edge of the bed.

  “I was fucked up. I don’t remember anything.”

  “Okay, I get it,” Evey said.

  I was hurting her. Even though I was trying to protect her, doing everything I could to make sure she was safe, she was still getting her feelings hurt after having so much sweetness and compassion. She still looked to be zoning out.

  “Let him go, Evey,” I whispered again.

  Keith left without saying good-bye. He slammed the door behind him.

  “Fuck him,” Evey said.

  Thatta girl. She rolled over and fell asleep for the rest of the day.

  That day went by in a rush. The sun sped past the horizon. It was night, and aside from Evey getting up to go to the kitchen for water and a short conversation with Brooklyn about how neither one of them had had sex, that was it for the day. Zack was on his phone outside, doing his bookie shit, and I was trying not to drink.

  Then I realized that it was going to be a very long and boring night. I flew to the liquor store and got a bottle, came back, and sat next to Abigail on the stoop. Zack was sitting on her other side.

  He said to her, “Why won’t you go out with me?”

  She ignored him. I pounded the whiskey and stared off into space.

  Ten minutes later, he asked again. “Just one date?”

  She ignored him again.

  I had had enough of her. “Abigail, you snooty bitch, will you please fucking answer him?”

  “Fuck you, Lucian.” She flew off before I could respond.

  “Nice one,” Zack said.

  A moment later, he was gone too. I was alone. I finished the bottle and went into Evey’s room.

  Bad idea. She was reading in bed. I knelt next to her. She set the book on the nightstand and looked at the ceiling.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hi,” I whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear me or see me.

  She squinted. Could she hear me?

  “Hi,” I said again.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. How could she hear me? Was I messing with her? What was happening?

  I bent near her ear and whispered, “Evey, next time, in the next life we’ll be together—that’s how this will be corrected. This will be righted. This can’t be our forever fate. Next time we’ll live together, we’ll die together. We’ll experience every war together, inside ourselves and outside in the world. We won’t be out of reach, unavailable, unattainable, just love longing to be. Let’s keep moving fast in opposite directions. Keep praying we meet on the other side. I’ll see you there; I know I will. I have to believe that. Watch for me. I’ll be barreling toward you, arms wide open, and then we’ll crash into each other with the force of two spent lives yearning to be one.”

  When her eyes opened, one stray tear trickled down her cheek. I touched her shoulder, and she relaxed. She squeezed her eyes shut again, took three deep breaths, then dozed off. I wished I could hear her thoughts.

  I took Mona’s advice and got on Tinder. It really was a disgusting mechanism, but I was horny. During magic hour that night, I met Zina in room 1203 at the St. Francis Hotel. We had a corner room with frilly old-timey curtains and a floral bedspread.

  “This is the old part of the building,” Zina said as she kicked off her heels.

  She was tall with very dark hair and wings. Yeah, the carpet always matched the drapes. Blond angels had blond wings and so on. She was exotic and similar to me, which meant we were both old. Think operating systems on your iMac. We were basically the same version. As time went on, with each new version, God or someone got lazy. The older angels were stronger and better-looking, in my opinion. By the way, I’ve heard Jobs is one of us now, so don’t expect Apple to crash and burn anytime soon.

  “You’re about my age, huh?”

  She was undressing with no modesty. “No, I’m older. We’ve met. You don’t remember me?”

  “I drink a lot.”

  She sat on the bed in her expensive lingerie and crossed her legs. She was trying to recall when we had met before. “I think it was the late fourteen hundreds.”

  “Da Vinci,” we said at the same time.

  “I remember now,” I said. Somehow, even after my little debacle with Joanie “I speak to God” Arc, Mona had still been willing to assign me to da Vinci. Those were prideful years for me.

  “I’m still kind of pissed at him for making me ugly in the Vitruvian Man. And my you-know-what was not exactly to scale. He didn’t want other, less fortunate men to get a complex.”

  “Mmkay,” Zina said. “So you revealed yourself to him.”

  I undressed and sat down next to her. “We were great friends. I trusted him. We trusted each other.”

  “Is it true that he was…?”

  “What? Gay? I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you anyway. He was the most interesting man I’ve ever met. Truly a genius and a workhorse. He was tireless. I only revealed myself to help him more. The Plate tectonics theory was all me.” I grinned.

  Zina had a fluttering, cautious laugh like a wise, classy woman. My dick twitched.

  “It’s coming back to me,” I said. “You were playing a courtesan in Venice. A poet. I thought you were a human at first. I didn’t understand what that was all about. How you were able to hide your wings from me.”

  “Old trick of the trade. I’ll teach you. Anyway, those years were a mistake. I was trying to protect one of my souls at the time—a young woman who was selling herself cheaply and dangerously. I was teaching her the ropes, or trying to.”

  “So you revealed yourself?”

  “That was the only time, and I regret it. She fell madly in love with me, and I with her. She took her own life after I tried to remove myself from her thoughts. Something went terribly wrong.” Zina looked as though she was about to cry. She shook the thoughts away. “That was a long time ago.”

&nb
sp; Zina was definitely older than me but not by much. I could tell by the way she talked. After hearing Zina’s story, I felt sick over what I had done to Evey. I worried about her.

  “You and I slept together, didn’t we?”

  She laughed again. “Am I that forgettable?”

  “No,” I said instantly. “You’re gorgeous… captivating.”

  A moment later, our bodies were connected. I moved in and out of Zina, caressing her smooth skin while she made beautiful sounds. Her wings were spread high above her head, and her hands were bracing my sides. We moved together for a long time. It felt good, but something was missing. I finally came twenty minutes later when I closed my eyes and thought about Evey.

  Zina and I respectfully washed each other in the shower.

  She stood on her tippy toes and kissed my forehead. “You’re different than the others, Lucian.”

  “I know.”

  She smiled. “You’re hopeless.”

  “I know,” I said, my voice barely audible.

  Magic hour was ending, and I wanted to get back to Evey. When I hit the street, everything was moving fast. I was so dizzy I almost fell down.

  “Shit,” I said, looking at my watch, which was frozen. It had stopped working.

  “What’s wrong?” Zina said, standing beside me.

  “How much time has passed since the magic hours ended?”

  She checked her phone. “About forty-five minutes. I’m sure your souls will be fine. It’s early.”

  “Soul,” I said mindlessly. “I gotta run.” I kissed her cheek and took flight.

  MY DREAMS HAVE always been nonsensical—until last night. I didn’t know I was dreaming. I kept thinking I was exactly where I should be. I was with a man, familiar but mysterious. He was sexy and cocky, and he was feeding me. We were on a date at a restaurant, laughing and having smart conversation. A minute later, he changed. His expression dropped, he squinted, and at once, he seemed lovesick and tormented. He was whispering to me, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I closed my eyes to try to listen closely, and when I opened them, we were standing side by side, still and naked like winter trees in a creek. There was nothing around us but darkness. When I shivered, he touched my hand and I was warm.

  “Who are you?” I asked him.

  “Lucian.”

  I could hear his voice. It was rough, pained. That was the end.

  When I woke up from the dream, I started crying because I remembered him. I knew him and I didn’t know how. I knew his scent, his voice, his angled features, his full lips, and his searching eyes. I knew his warmth, his touch, and the comfort I felt near him. But awake, I was longing for him. It was excruciating. I was losing my mind. I was being fanatical, paranoid, melodramatic. None of those things were typical of me. I had always been pragmatic and certain of what was and what wasn’t out there.

  I went to the kitchen in my sweats and grabbed my keys. Brooklyn was sitting at the round table, slurping up cereal.

  “You’re up early,” she said.

  “I’m leaving. Going to Tracey’s house to work on the denim. I’m really behind and need to catch up on some things. I have to get going.”

  “You look like shit, Pinky.”

  “Hey, Brooklyn, I hate that nickname. I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”

  “I thought you liked it,” she whined.

  “I got pink eye from your house two days before our prom. I’m a little bitter about it.”

  “Sheesh, I thought we were cycle sisters. You shouldn’t have PMS for another two weeks. Or are you just being emo cause you didn’t get laid the other night?”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. She was impossible. “Brooklyn, do we know someone named Lucian? Like a really good-looking guy, wears black, maybe longish hair, a touch of facial scruff.”

  Through a mouthful of Cocoa Puffs, she mumbled, “No, sounds hot though.”

  “Wings,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “He might have wings.”

  She spit out her cereal. “Wings?”

  I nodded. “Wings.”

  “Aww, honey, have you been eating? You do look emaciated. Or are you hallucinating from the X still? Geez, did Keith slip you something else? Should I drive you to work?”

  “No.” I shook my head. Brooklyn was a terrible driver, but anyway, I wanted to be alone. “I’m fine, just had a weird dream.”

  “I’d say.”

  “I’ll be at Tracey’s in San Rafael. I hate that I have to drive all the way out there when we should be working in the warehouse. She’s such a lazy bitch.” I was trying to change the subject.

  “You mentioned something to me about angels a couple days ago. What’s going on, Evey? You want to find a church and go pray or something?”

  Brooklyn had been raised atheist. She had a total, absolute disconnect from anything religious or spiritual besides her mom’s religion of vegetarianism.

  “No, no, I’m fine. Gonna head to work.”

  I drove fast and recklessly. I missed him. Why? Him—who was him?

  “Lucian!” I yelled as I drove fast across the Golden Gate Bridge. “Lucian!”

  When I got to the other side of the bridge, I pulled into a space in the Vista Point parking lot and shut off my engine. I called my mom.

  “Hi, honey,” she answered.

  I hadn’t seen or talked to my mom in three weeks since I had told her I hated her for being so hard on me. My words were harsh toward the woman who had brought me into this world, but I had had years of resentment built up toward her. I had always been closer to my dad because I could do no wrong in his eyes. But my mom despised Brooklyn and thought fashion was silly and would never look at my sketches. It hurt me. It drove a wedge between us. I wanted her approval more than anyone’s, but she and I were different, and what I did didn’t interest her. It was hard to accept that my own mother could be so selfish that she wouldn’t even humor me by acting interested in what I had created. There were no siblings to talk it over with. I just had to learn to accept it. I couldn’t change her, but I vowed if I ever had kids, I would never dismiss their passion by telling them that it was a pipe dream, or by saying it didn’t interest me.

  My parents were working-class Oakland lifers. My mom was a schoolteacher, and my dad was a UPS driver. They had been married for thirty-five years. The first ten they had spent trying to have a baby, then I came along. And I’m the only one. Imagine the pressure.

  “Mom, I’m sorry about what I said to you at dinner.” I was going to take the high road.

  “It’s been three weeks.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “I was giving you space, but I didn’t think it would take you this long. Better late than never, I guess. I appreciate the apology, Evelyn. I only want the best for you.”

  “Mom, what is your idea of ‘the best for me’?”

  “Some stability, that’s all.” Here we go again.

  “I’m twenty-five. Stability is right up there with doing my taxes.”

  She laughed. “You’re so spirited.”

  Something came over me. “Speaking of—how come we never went to church?”

  “Where are you right now, Evelyn? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  I got out of my car and walked toward the lookout. “I’m looking at the Golden Gate. I’m headed to Tracey’s. I just pulled over because I was thinking about you and I wanted to call you.” It was true. I had been thinking about her and the mysterious Lucian.

  “We didn’t go to church because your grandparents were extremely staunch, devout Catholics who beat each other in front of me, told lies, were hypocrites, cheated on each other, and then divorced. It kind of left a bad taste in my mouth.”

  My mom’s candor was shocking. “I can’t believe you just said all of that.”

  “I don’t want you to hate me, Evey. I’m human; I make mistakes. I won’t always get it right, but I love you more than anything in this world, more tha
n myself, and I want so badly for you to be happy. Your father and I didn’t take you to church, but we tried to be an example of love and honesty. We tried to show you that life can be fulfilling, that couples can be happy, and that you can be happy and have pride in what you do. But we also don’t want to see you fail. We don’t want to see you heartbroken either.”

  “I have to decide what makes me happy. And maybe you have to let me fail sometimes, Mom. Maybe I need to experience a broken heart for once. You can’t control everything.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I’ve been pressuring you.” A few seconds of silence passed before she added, “You have so much spirit. You’re someone’s muse—probably someone up there. You don’t have to go to church to believe in a higher power, sweetie. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You want to talk to your dad? He took the day off. He’s here.”

  “Sure.”

  She handed him the phone.

  “Hi, DD.” My dad had always called me DD La Rue. DD for Darling Daughter. Even my mom had started calling me that sometimes.

  “Hi, Dad. How are you?”

  “Good. Your mom is making me banana macadamia nut pancakes. I can’t complain.”

  “I miss you.”

  “Miss you too, DD. Come see us, we’re not that far. I saw that you were at that concert in Oakland. Two miles from the house.”

  It stung that I had hurt him. “How’d you know?”

  “Facebook, silly.”

  “Ha! Well, I was on a date.”

  “Anything serious? A good guy?” he asked.

  “I thought I liked him, but in the end, he wasn’t who I thought he was. I’m sure I won’t see him again. No big deal.”

  “Be safe, my Darling Daughter.”

  “Always, Dad.”

  We said I love yous and good-byes, and then hung up. I headed toward the pedestrian path on the bridge. I needed ten extra minutes before dealing with Tracey. It was a crisp and clear morning. No San Francisco fog in sight. I shivered from the breeze as I walked quickly toward the center of the bridge. I was chanting the name Lucian in my mind.

  When I got to the middle, I leaned over and looked down. It was so far to the water that it was hard to see the detail in the rippling current. It was just a terrifying black void full of unknowns.