by Anne Conley
“Do you ever have sex?” She had always thought of angels as asexual beings, but this one was all man.
“I have, but in general, I find the whole experience…a bit messy.” He looked uncomfortable and shifted away from her slightly. His hand dropped from her face, and she grabbed at it, holding it close to her eyes.
“It can be…” She said thoughtfully, lowering his hand to her lap. “But it can also be beautiful.” She watched his face for a reaction. “Don’t you wonder why it’s been written about, painted, sung, artistically depicted in countless forms for centuries, or longer?”
“That’s love, Heather. It’s different from sex.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“Have you ever been in love?”
He sighed, “No. Love is a weakness that is purely human. Angels don’t feel things the way you do. We love life and humans, but we don’t fall in love.” He lowered his eyes to where her hand clasped his. “Can I ask you a question, Heather?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you dance at that…club?” She could see the disdain he held for it in the downturned corners of his mouth, and she tried not to let it hurt her feelings.
“I make enough money there to support my mom and sister.”
“Don’t you ever feel cheap? Or threatened?”
“No. I don’t. The men there, for the most part, are very respectful of me. I provide a form of entertainment, that’s totally legal. They get to feel a little naughty and go home and make love to their wives. It’s fun. They make me feel beautiful.”
“Heather, you are beautiful. You don’t need a bunch of randy men to make you feel that way.” The way he said it sent a warm flush to her cheeks, but she tried not to let his proximity, and his kind words distract her.
“I make them feel sexy, too. For a few minutes they get to feel like the object of my desire, and that makes them feel good, too.”
“You promote the sex trade to propagate a human frailty. It’s one of the deadly sins. ”
Taken aback by his bluntness, she sat up and asked, “Do you enjoy what you do?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I help shape humankind’s destiny as a whole, improve your level of existence, your quality of life.” He said it as if it were a matter not to be questioned, and his sense of superiority annoyed her.
“Are you proud of it?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for illustrating my point.” She laid back her head in satisfaction.
“What point?”
“Pride is a deadly sin too, Uri. I get to be a completely different person up on that stage than I am in real life. In my real life, I’m taking care of everybody else, scrambling to keep my sister bathed and my mother remembering me. On that stage, none of that matters. Nobody in that club knows that I’ve been struggling to hold myself together since I was thirteen years old.” Her voice had gone quiet with desperation. Uri was the only other person…er…entity who knew her entire history, and here he was questioning her choices. She had to make him see that she was good. His opinion of her mattered. It shouldn't, but it did.
Uri was looking at her, his crystalline eyes looking straight through her. Abruptly, his hand had sunk into her hair and was bringing her up by her neck, until her forehead was touching his. Their eyes were inches away from each other, their noses touching. Uri's warmth surrounded her, making her breathless. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, as his thumb stroked her jawline.
“You can’t fight darkness with darkness, Heather. You need to find some light for your life. You can’t be the only source of it, or you’ll burn out.” His voice broke, and his eyes were watery, as if he were fixing to cry. Before she could respond, he continued. "I don't know what is happening to me, or why you are different from others, but you are. You are different." He closed his eyes, taking a slow deep breath, as if to center himself. “You don’t seem to understand the danger for yourself if you keep working there. You are so good, Heather.”
His words were reminiscent of Damien's words to her this morning, and she shuddered. He had called her good. What was it with these men and good girls? Heather couldn't take it anymore. Being this close to him, and not being able to do anything was killing her.
She brought her hand up to his neck and pulled him into a kiss, brushing his lips softly with her own. Just a taste.
Their lips melted together, softness against softness, warmth sinking into warmth. Heather's mind swirled with the sensations of Uri, breathing light into her darkness. She was lost to the tumultuous feeling inside herself, the elation, the fear, the desire. Realizing what she'd done, she broke away, gasping, but his grip on her hair had tightened, so she couldn't go far.
"I'm sorry, Uri. I shouldn't have done that." She looked at him and was stunned to see that his eyes mirrored her own feelings. He felt the same fear, joy, and desire. She could see it.
"Why did you?" He questioned her, his voice a whisper against her cheek.
"I wanted to see if you tasted like…"
Realization dawned in Uri's eyes. "Did I?"
She shook her head, eyes cast down at her lap, suddenly embarrassed. "It's a job, Uri. Will I go to Hell for a job?"
“You might.” Finally, he let go of her and let her lay back down on the bed, stroking her cheek softly with the pad of his thumb
“Okay. I’ll think about it.” Exhausted, she closed her eyes. “Uri?” Her eyes still closed, she waited for an answer.
“Hmm?” His voice was near and sent a shiver up her spine. He had laid down next to her, on top of the covers of her bed.
“Will you please stay? Until I go to sleep? I’ve got a spare key in my purse.”
“I’ll stay, Heather. And I can come and go without a key.”
She sat straight up in her bed, suddenly panicking. “You can materialize? Like poof into places?”
He looked amused, crossing his arms behind his head. “Yes.”
“Can he?”
Uri's eyes turned dark, his body losing the relaxed posture he'd just adopted. He grasped her hand, pulling it to his mouth. “I’ll bless the apartment. He won’t be able to get in. I promise you, Heather.”
The touch of his warm, soft lips on the top of her hand left her momentarily breathless, before his words sank in.
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes again, listening to Uri’s voice, as he softly chanted an incantation. The sound of him lulled her into a peaceful slumber.
Chapter 16
Uri was sitting cross-legged on the grass in the park, taking advantage of the meditative state he’d found. He didn’t immediately notice the Boss’s presence next to him. Gradually, a sense of harmony filled his body, and he opened his eyes to see the ultimate spiritual guide sitting cross-legged in front of him. The Boss was wearing a bright orange kimono with white doves woven into the pattern.
Uri looked at Him with a raised eyebrow, once again marveling at His audacity, yet not daring to question. Whatever the Boss wore, He managed to wear it well.
“Uriel.”
“Yes, Father.” Uri bowed his head in deference.
“I have mentioned your retirement. Have you given it thought?”
His head still bowed, Uri managed to ask, his voice a weak croak, “Have I done something to displease you?”
The Boss laughed. “Not at all, my son. You are one of my four winds. I just realize that you may need something more from your existence. That is all.”
“You mean, something more than fulfilling Your heavenly duties? I can’t imagine what else I could possibly need, Sir.” Uri responded, a little shocked at the suggestion.
“You have fulfilled all of your duties, without question, to the highest degree. I’m not at all displeased with you, or your work. I just feel it is time for you to move on. Have you gotten to know your target?”
“Yes, Sir, I have.” Uri swallowed the emotions that welled up when he thought of Heather.
“I
can tell you have some feelings for her. Feelings you don’t understand, perhaps?”
“Yes, Sir. I don’t understand them, at all. What is happening to me?”
“I’m giving you free will.”
“Sir?” Uri was hesitant to question, but he honestly didn’t understand. “That’s for the humans, isn’t it?”
“You have a choice to make, Uriel. I sense a weariness in you boys that is almost palpable at times. If you are tired, you make mistakes." This confused Uri. He had felt a weariness from dealing with the same types of humans over the years, arrogant, proud, greedy. The flaws in his targets had frustrated him recently, but he hadn't realized that it had affected his performance. "You can choose to continue to be one of my archangels, delivering my humans the choice of their destinies, or you can choose to become one of them, and fulfill your own destiny.”
“My own destiny?” Uri thought that that's what he'd been doing for centuries.
“Your very own destiny, Uriel. You have the choice. In order to fall to humanity, you must fall in love with Heather.” Uri watched as the Boss leaned back on His hands, waiting patiently for Uri’s decision, a satisfied smile on His face. Uri knew that He already knew which choice he would make, he just wish He'd let him in on it.
“Love?” Uri stifled his indignation. He had watched humans do some pretty stupid things for love, and it sickened him.
“I know you consider love a human weakness, but it’s actually the most beautiful emotion in existence. What do you think separates human from beast?”
“Free will.”
“No. It’s love. The capacity for love is what separates humans from beasts.”
“What do you want me to do, Father?”
“This is your decision to make Uriel. I just want you to be happy.” He reached across and softly tapped Uri’s chest. “These feelings that are confusing you so much, are feelings related to love. Jealousy, anger, confusion, they are all the dark sides of the light. Without darkness, there cannot be light. With love comes something more, that I can’t describe to you. But it will dispel the darkness.”
Uri felt like he’d been slapped. He was speechless.
“Goodbye, Uriel. Know that I love you with the love that surpasses all understanding. Please go in peace and know that I am with you, always.” The Boss disappeared into an ethereal mist that hovered over the ground briefly, before dissipating.
Uri felt as if he’d been abandoned. An unquenchable thirst took over, and he knew without understanding why that he needed to see Heather.
Chapter 17
When Heather turned from locking her apartment door, Uri was standing in her yard, looking at her desperately.
“What?” She hadn’t seen this look in his eyes, and it made her a little nervous. Uri usually seemed so put together, and right now he looked a little undone. She wondered if he’d received bad news from someone. Realizing who he was most likely to have spoken with, she panicked a little. “Has something happened?”
He looked a little wistful, as he shook his head slowly. “No. I just wanted to spend a little more time with you. Where are you going?”
“To visit my mother. You are welcome to come along, if you want.”
Looking relieved, he nodded. “I would like that, I think.” He walked with her to the bus stop, reaching for her hand and clasping it tightly. The contact, as always a warm current, made Heather feel comfortable in a situation that typically made her apprehensive. She was never sure what was going to happen when she saw her mother. Surprising herself, she realized that having Uri accompany her made the trip seem less like a chore.
They climbed up the bus steps together and chose a seat. Uncomfortably close for strangers, Heather treasured the thrill of Uri's thigh pressed up against hers. She could smell his spicy scent and wondered again what it was.
Before she could ask him, he questioned, “How far along is your mother in the Alzheimer’s process?”
She shrugged. “She’s pretty much in the intermediate stages. In her lucid moments, she’s angry with me for putting her in the home. Sometimes, she doesn’t recognize me. That’s only happened a handful of times, though. Usually, she’s just angry at me.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard for you.”
“It is, but I know it’s not my mom. It’s the disease. That makes it better, in my head anyway. It still hurts, though.”
Uri put his arm around her, transferring a sense of strength, and they rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence.
At the home, Heather tapped in her security code to the Alzheimer’s wing of the facility and watched as Uri’s faces scrunched up at the smell.
“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” She asked, the smell getting to her on good days, not having a clue how much of it he smelled. She suspected his senses were super-powered. She chalked it up to something else she didn't really know about him, wondering if she ever would. How much longer could he stay, once he realized there wasn't any special destiny for her?
“Yes, I’ve never much enjoyed the smell of sickness.”
“I can’t imagine how you could.”
On the way to her mother’s room, a nurse stopped Heather, bubbling false cheerfulness. “Oh, we’re so glad you came in today. Your mother isn’t doing too spiffy. Maybe a familiar face will help.”
Heather blanched. “Will she know me?”
The nurse smiled at her. “We can hope so, can’t we?”
Uri squeezed her elbow reassuringly and led her on to her mother’s room.
Sharon was sitting in her chair, worrying the small blanket in her lap, staring at a blank TV screen, muttering letters under her breath.
“Buy a vowel, A. A. A. A.”
“Mom?” Heather asked hesitantly. “I’ve brought a friend of mine to visit, if you’re up to it.”
Her mother’s attention snapped to Heather, and a confused look darted over her features before she turned her gaze to Uri.
“This is Uri, Mama. Uri, this is my mother, Sharon Calloway.” Heather made the introductions, her voice filled with hope that a new face would be good for her mother.
“Mrs. Calloway, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He clasped her hand in his and bowed low, grazing his lips over her knuckles. Heather was stunned by the old-fashioned greeting, but Sharon’s eyes twinkled with delight.
“My, what a charming guest. What was your name, dear?” She asked.
“Uriel.”
“And who is this lovely creature that you brought along with you today, Uriel?” She looked at Heather, again with the confused expression. Okay, so she was a new face, too. Heather decided to just go with the flow.
“This is Heather, Mrs. Calloway.” He winked at Heather, and the gesture melted her heart.
“Come. Come sit next to me, both of you.” She waved her hand over the sofa next to her. Heather and Uri complied, she uneasily, he with an air of anticipation that Heather marveled at, until her mother spoke next.
“I used to paint, Uri. Did you know that?” Heather was shocked at the revelation. She didn’t know her mother used to paint and wondered if it was true, or a figment of her imagination.
“I didn’t know that.” Heather said simply, dumbstruck.
“Well, how could you?” Her mother answered with a tinkling laugh. She had never seen her mother like this and wondered if she was actually flirting with Uri. Her jaw dropped in astonishment when Sharon grasped Uri’s arm and began stroking his bicep.
“My, you are strong. Would you do me a favor, with your big, strong muscles?” Heather watched as her mother regressed in front of her. Suddenly, she was a teenager, fighting for the attention of the pretty boy at the party.
“Anything you would like, Mrs. Calloway.” Uri answered politely, eager to please.
“Oh, piffle on the Mrs. Calloway. Please, call me Sharon. Alright?”
“Alright, Sharon.” Uri acquiesced.
“I want to re-arrange my seating area to better accommod
ate my guests. But I can’t manage by myself. Would you mind terribly helping me?”
Uri looked questioningly at Heather, who nodded. Then, for the next thirty minutes, Uri cheerfully moved furniture around in Sharon’s room, until she was satisfied that all of her “guests” would be properly seated. The end result was better, but Heather wondered if Sharon would still like it tomorrow.
Once Uri rearranged her furniture, Sharon needed the pictures hanging on the wall moved, to look balanced with the new seating arrangement. Since Uri was “so tall,” he was the only one who could manage for her. Uri happily re-hung her calendar, and her paintings, and the family photos, which Sharon referred to as “those nice looking people” on different walls according to where the furniture had been placed.
The entire time, Sharon stayed in her chair, which apparently did not encompass the seating area, as it stayed at the foot of her bed, two feet away from the television set.
When he was finished, Uri sat on the sofa next to Heather and asked the question which had been bothering Heather since her mother first brought it up.
“So, you used to paint, Sharon?” The question was genuine, not just an attempt at solicitousness, and Heather wondered why it mattered to Uri. Why was he trying so hard to know her mother? For that matter, she thought, why was he trying so hard period? She honestly didn’t understand his purpose here.
“Yes, I did. How could you tell?” Sharon sat a little straighter and visibly preened herself, her hand smoothing her hair, then running down her neck.
Uri shrugged, good-naturedly. “I could just tell. You carry yourself like an artist.”
“Well, yes. Before I got married. Have you met Buddy? He’s my husband. He should be home soon. We just moved here. He wants me to stop painting and have children, but I’m still not sure. I don’t see why I can’t do both. Do you?”
“No ma’am, I don’t.”
A fog of confusion seemed to cloud Sharon’s eyes, and she looked at Uri, then at Heather.
“Who are you, again?”
“I’m Uri, and this is Heather,” Uri said, patiently.