by Anne Conley
“Are you trying to sell me something? Because my husband doesn’t usually leave me with the checkbook, unless it’s grocery day. And today is Wednesday, and I do my grocery shopping on Monday.”
It was actually Thursday, but Heather wasn’t going to correct her mother.
Instead, she said, as brightly as she could, “We’re not here to sell you anything. Just a visit.”
Sharon darted her eyes, warily. “I think you’d better leave. My husband won’t like you visiting while he’s not here.” She leaned over and patted Uri’s knee. “Why don’t you come back this evening and have supper with us. He would be glad to meet you. Tonight’s roast chicken night.” Heather felt a pang of regret at the memories of her mother's cooking. Wednesday nights had been roast chicken night, until her dad had died.
“That would be lovely, but I’m afraid we have other plans for tonight. So, we’ll be leaving now. It was a pleasure meeting you Mrs. Calloway.” Uri extended his hand in a formal farewell, and Heather followed suit.
Midway through her handshake goodbye, a flicker of recognition flowed through Sharon’s face. Heather took the opportunity to pull her mother into a hug. “Goodbye, Mama,” she whispered into her mother’s ear. When she released her mother, the confusion was back.
They left, and had boarded the bus riding back in silence when Uri finally spoke.
“I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but it’s crucial to you that you remember her before. Don’t let the memories of her illness take over the memories of her before she got sick, Heather. Okay?”
She nodded. What he didn’t understand was that this wasn’t her mother. Her mother didn’t flirt, didn’t paint, didn’t direct strangers to rearrange her furniture. She wouldn’t have any problems remembering her mother the way she was before, a lonely, bitter woman, who couldn’t enjoy what she did have because she was too busy concentrating on what she had lost.
Changing the subject, she asked him a question that had been bothering her. “So, Uri. What’s my destiny?”
He sighed, and clasped her hand. She noticed he’d been holding her hand a lot lately and wondered about it. It seemed to bring him some amount of comfort.
“I’m still not exactly certain, Heather.”
“If you point out people’s destiny to them, don’t they lose their free will? I thought that free will was one of the perks of humanity.”
“It is. I just show people possible outcomes, what their destiny could be, if they chose a certain path. The destiny that the Boss wants for them.”
“Why do you call Him the Boss?”
“It seems more socially acceptable these days. We used to call Him other things, but they all boil down to the same thing, don’t they?”
“Well, who wouldn’t choose to follow God’s will, once they are shown what can happen?”
Uri was thoughtful for a minute. “Einstein, for one.”
She was confused. From what she knew, he was a pretty influential scientist. How had he not fulfilled his destiny?
He must have seen her confusion, because he continued. “He signed onto the initial phase of the Manhattan Project. His name alone garnered enough governmental support of the project enabling it to continue. He signed on even after I had shown him the potential the Atom Bomb had for worldwide destruction.” He shrugged, as if the millions of lives lost during World War II because of the bomb didn’t matter.
“Did he go to…Hell? Because he didn’t listen to you?”
“I don’t have that information, but I imagine the Boss wasn’t happy that he ignored the vision.”
“Wow.” She was speechless.
“Yeah, thinking about what can happen to your eternal soul can be daunting.” He answered her wryly.
“What about me?”
He looked at her, raised eyebrow.
“Do I need to quit stripping to stay out of hell?”
“I can’t say anything for certain, but I would say that you should, just to be on the safe side.”
“But what about all the years I’ve already done it? Isn’t my soul already tainted?” She felt like she needed answers, and this heavenly being should have them, shouldn't he? She was frustrated by his non-committal attitude.
“Not necessarily. Everyone has the chance for redemption.”
“Then how do you know my soul will be tainted if I continue?”
Uri sighed. “I don’t, Heather. I don’t know anything. And it seems like the more I go on, the less I know of anything.” He seemed frustrated about something, but Heather wasn’t sure what.
They got to the bus stop by her house, and Uri hugged her. She savored the feelings of comfort and security that his embrace evoked in her before releasing him.
He looked her in the eyes, as if he had questions. “What?” She asked.
“Will you meet me tomorrow afternoon? Before you go into work? I can make a picnic at the park.” He said hopefully.
“Okay.”
“Um…Have you tried sushi?”
“I love it.”
“I’ve never had it. I thought it might be appropriate for our spot at the park.”
“Perfect. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“See you at five o’clock?”
“Sure. Bye, Uri.”
“Bye, Heather.” She walked to her house, and when she turned to shut the door, Uri was still standing there, just as she had found him when she opened it. Staring at her.
Chapter 18
Uri had already set out the blanket, cushions, and candles when Heather showed up. He was just dishing the sushi onto the plates, as she walked over to him. He was nervous about today, he wasn't sure if she would like his gift, or what he had to tell her. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans, he looked up at her, and her smile knocked his breath away.
“You said a picnic. This is pretty fancy, Uri.” She exclaimed, gesturing towards the large cushions.
“Well, I wanted everything to be perfect…” He fidgeted, suddenly feeling the strange tingling in his gut, along with the white-hot heat that accompanied Heather’s presence.
“For what?” She laughed, shyly.
“I wanted to talk to you. But let’s eat first. You said you liked sushi, but the choices were endless, so I got a variety…” He showed her the various rolls that he’d made, as well as the tempura style dishes and the sashimi.
He watched, as she selected some of each of the varieties, spreading the wasabi paste on them, and dipping some in soy sauce, all the while deftly handling the chopsticks.
He followed her lead, knowing that he wouldn’t really be able to get much enjoyment from the food. However, to his chagrin, the wasabi paste that he spread on his sushi roll burned like a fire through his nose, and he couldn’t drink enough to extinguish it. Coughing and sputtering, he looked at Heather, helpless.
“Too spicy?” She inquired, apparently stifling a giggle.
“I’ve never…been able to taste much before.” He was beside himself. He had no idea what was going on. He’d always eaten to fit in to various situations. Food was one of the many things that he didn’t need that humans did. Uri had never been able to really distinguish different flavors, just textures and temperatures. He’d been able to eat the hottest of peppers and never feel the effects. He had wanted to try sushi because it looked like a work of art. Not because he actually needed to know what raw fish tasted like.
She looked at him with an unasked question in her eyes, and finally said, “Just try it without the green stuff. Dip it, like this.” She dipped a piece of tempura fried chicken into the soy sauce and held it out for him to eat off her chopsticks.
He did. It was delicious. His eyebrows raised, he grunted his approval around his grinding teeth. Heather laughed and pushed the plate of tempura over to him. He ate a few pieces with gusto, feeling the strange hollow feeling that had been in his stomach today dissipate.
Digging around in the bag he'd brought, Uri withdrew a wrapped package. "I need to tell you s
omething…something you may not like, and whichever way the conversation goes, I want you to have this."
Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but she took the package. "You don't have to give me gifts, Uri."
"I know, but it's something you'll like and possibly something…" He choked on the words, unwilling to say them. "…to remember me by."
"Not that I'm likely to forget you," she mumbled quietly as she unwrapped the package. Her words, not meant for him to hear, sent his heart soaring.
Her face paled when she saw what the book was. "Uri, you can't give this to me. It's too much."
"It's nothing. Honestly." It was a signed copy of Emerson's Essays: First Series.
"But it's signed, Uri." She read the inscription. "It's to you." She looked up at him, her eyes a mask of confusion. "He gave this to you?" Uri nodded, watching her reaction. He saw the emotions flit across her face, disbelief and awe, then finally settling on joy. "Thank you, Uri." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and his stomach fluttered at the contact, his face burning where her lips had been.
Her body stilled next to his, and he looked at her face, which had gone pale. "You're leaving me, aren't you?"
She clutched the book to her chest, as if unable to believe its existence. Her knuckles whitened at her grip. “I need to tell you something, Heather.” Her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for whatever he was fixing to say.
“I’m not human.” She nodded in agreement, a look of relief filling her eyes, and Uri wondered at it, but he continued. “We don’t feel emotions the way that humans do. We don’t feel jealousy, lust, or love for humans.” He looked at his plate. “We don’t get tired, or hungry.” He looked at her, desperate for her to understand what he was trying to tell her. “We have powers, like cloaking ourselves from humans, thinking a place and we’re there.” He chuckled to himself. “I guess you call that ‘poofing.’”
“I think I’ve figured most of this out, Uri.” Heather said quietly, her food forgotten.
“Yesterday, I spoke with the Boss, and He wants to retire me.” Uri was still trying to understand what he’d done that displeased Him so much, even though He’d said nothing, and Uri knew that He couldn’t lie. “He said He wants a new generation of archangels.”
Heather was still, looking at him inscrutably. “What does that mean to you, Uri?”
“He gave me free will.”
Her mouth dropped open with the revelation. “You haven’t been able to make your own choices?”
Surprised, he answered, “No, Heather. We’re servants of God. We do His will.”
“So did He give you a choice?”
“Yes, but I don’t see how it’s much of a choice. I’m afraid He told me too late.”
“What did He tell you?” She asked him, enunciated each word slowly, as if speaking to a child.
Uri sighed. “He told me I could continue the way I have been for another few millennia, or I could fall and become human.”
“Why do you think it’s too late?” After she asked the question, her eyes drifted to the wasabi paste and realization dawned. “Are you human now?”
“Not completely, no. I don’t think so, anyway.”
“What do you have to do to become human?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “This is the tricky part.” He wasn't sure how to tell her, or what her reaction would be. Would she be able to love him in return? Or would it be in vain? Would he fall and then not be able to have her?
“What?”
“I have to fall in love with you, Heather.”
“What? Why? How?” Her face had flushed a bright crimson, which Uri found attractive, in spite of himself.
“I wasn’t sent here to help you fulfill your destiny. You're supposed to fulfill mine.”
“So, I don’t have a choice in the matter? What about my free will?”
“He knows best, Heather. Haven't you figured that out, yet?"
“No. I never have understood God, Uri. He’s always been an enigma to me." The book fell to the blanket, as her green eyes flashed. "I’ve never had a conversation with Him. I’ve never gotten any answers to my questions." Her voice rose, dangerously. "He has yet to tell me why He took my Dad and Bryan, why my sister’s an addict, and why my own mother can’t remember my name!” She stood, and started to walk away. Uri tried to placate her, grasping her arm, trying to maintain his own composure.
“Heather…The change isn’t complete, I could stop it. I think. I can decide not to fall in love with you. I can go on the way I have been, if that’s what you want. That’s why I wanted to discuss it with you first, because apparently something’s happening to me.” In fact, he was feeling ill. Each of Heather’s words had sent a painful blow to his abdomen, almost doubling him over in pain.
He clasped her hand in his, and held it tightly. “Think about it, Heather. I’ve been doing this for so long now…”
She looked at his hand, holding hers, then up at him. Her gaze sent a shiver of awareness through him. “Why me, Uri?”
He thought a moment before speaking, staring intently at her green eyes, practically glowing at him in anger. “Because you bring light to my darkness.” Then, without knowing what he was doing, or why he was doing it, he kissed her.
The sensation of Heather’s pliant, warm lips brought an unanticipated growl from the back of Uri’s throat. Of their own volition, his arms went around her, and he held her close, feeling the soft curves of her as he molded her body to his.
Heather squeaked in protest, but he was unwilling to let her go so quickly, feeling the need to take as much of the experience as he could. Her mouth opened to his in acceptance, and the taste of her tongue excited him, immensely.
He had kissed women before, but it had been another one of those things that he did for appearance’s sake. It was nothing like this.
Uri’s tongue mimicked her motions, dancing in and out of each other’s mouths. Her hands came around his neck, and she pulled him closer, trailing a hand down his back. He could smell her all over him, reminding him again of the purity and freshness of flying inside a cloud after a spring rain. He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her into his body, needing to feel her everywhere. Uri had never known desire quite like this before, and in his heart, he knew it was too late. He had fallen. If not completely, then he would soon. He had lied to Heather. He couldn't stop this. He didn't even want to.
In his burning desire, Uri didn't notice the white-hot heat that he’d become accustomed to in Heather’s presence, as it grew into a flame. It spread throughout his body, until a familiar sensation swept over Uri. He took a step back, reluctantly breaking the kiss before he changed.
He saw the look on Heather’s face as it changed from wonder to fear and knew what she saw. He looked down at himself.
He was glowing, a pure white incandescence. His clothing was gone, and had been replaced with a magnificent set of wings, made from sparkly white feathers that glowed with the same white incandescence of his body.
“Heather…” He reached out to her, regretting that he’d let go of her in the first place.
Heather took a step backward, then another. She finally said, “I’m sorry, Uri. I’m not the right one.”
And she turned and ran, shattering everything inside of him.
Chapter 19
Heather didn’t answer her phone for days. Uri had even texted her, which she had to pretend to herself wasn’t endearing.
Heather, please. Answer your phone. Talk to me. I don’t understand what is happening. Please.
She cried. What was happening, was that a perfect being was sacrificing everything to be with her. A stripper. A sinner. She couldn’t understand it. Why would he throw away his immortality, his status as one of God’s elite, to be with her? And why didn't she have a choice in the matter? It was as if God had decided Uri would fall for her, and nothing she said had any bearing on it. Did her feelings not matter? What if she didn't wan
t him to fall for her? Because she didn't. She wasn't good enough for him.
She remembered the image of him in his true, angelic form, and her heart filled with despair. His body, his heavenly body, had glowed with a celestial brilliance, that made her tremble with the memory. His enormous wings had spread almost as tall as the trees, as if they reached toward heaven itself.
She wasn't sure if it was purposeful, or if Uri had let things get out of control, but no human could look upon beauty like that and not be affected somehow.
He had said the process had started already. Did that mean he loved her? Was it too late? Had he already lost his angelic self? Had she ruined him?
Heather choked back a sob, and she turned off her phone without replying to his text message.
On Monday, she went to visit her mother, who was in a fabulously lucid mood.
“Hello dear. Where’s your friend?” Her mother was dressed in an actual pair of jeans today, not a nightgown. And her hair was not only combed, it was washed and styled as well.
“He couldn’t make it today, Mom.” Heather wasn’t about to explain to her looney-tunes mother that an angel was risking eternity to spend a couple of decades with her.
“That’s a pity. You two will make some beautiful grandbabies for me.” Sharon smiled wistfully.
“Mom.” Heather rolled her eyes, almost glad that her mother was ribbing her.
“It’s true, have you seen him? Hubba hubba.”
“Mom! It’s not like that. I…broke up with him.” Simplify, simplify, simplify.
“Tsk. That’s a pity.”
“He doesn’t like what I do for a living.” Her mother had been surprisingly open-minded when Heather had begun dancing to help pay for college. She had been afraid to fess up, but in the end decided to be honest about where her money came from, lest her mother assume the worst.
“Did I ever tell you I used to paint?” Sharon reached for Heather’s hand. Heather enjoyed the friendly touch from her mother more than she realized. It had been so long since her mother had knowingly shown affection to her.