The Heavenly Heart

by Jackie Lee Miles

  TWENTY-SIX

  The Porthole of Truth

  We spend hours in the nursery and have the best time. But something’s bothering me. I decide the only answer is to investigate The Porthole of Truth. Pete says it’s to be only used for important things. I tell him it’s urgent. My father’s carrying on with the attorney that has my kidney. I need to see if he plans to leave my mother!

  “I can’t possibly move on until I find out,” I say.

  “Yes, I see that,” Pete says, his fluffy hair puffed out like a cotton halo around his head. “You must be careful,” he cautions. “Through the Porthole of Truth we are able to see into another one’s heart. You may not always find what you expect.”

  Pete goes off to welcome a new arrival.

  I’m relieved he has warned me that I may not always find what I expect. I’m expecting my father to divorce my mother and marry the attorney. Nothing would make me happier than to find out that I’m wrong.

  You may remember The Porthole of Truth is an opening with a beam of light so bright it dazzles. I approach it carefully. There is a luminous slate on a silver platform beside it. It looks like a fancy etch-a-sketch! I pick up the wand attached to the slate and print out my father’s name. Instantly I am catapulted into his thoughts. It’s the most amazing thing.

  Of course, I’m hoping my father’s thoughts are completely different than what I’m expecting.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Golden Window

  I DON’T WANT TO EVEN THINK ABOUT WHAT MY FATHER IS THINKING ABOUT! It’s perfectly disgusting.

  I’m back in the Golden Window and wish The Porthole of Truth would take it’s secrets and disappear forever. Forever!! But instantly I take it back. What if I want to take another peak? Like, I’ve always wanted to know whether my mother truly loved me or if she thought I was a nuisance—and Onetta, who I’ve loved since before I can remember, I want to see if her heart’s as happy as it always was.

  For now I’ll put The Porthole of Truth on hold. Maybe Miss Lily will have some insight into the situation concerning my father and his thoughts. She was married to her husband for a ga-zillion years. There’s probably nothing she hasn’t heard. And her husband never made it here, he’s BELOW, so he must have been pretty bad. I’m sure he’s done things far worse than my father. I’ll bet Miss Lily has some juicy stories to tell.

  Right now I’m peaking in on Garrett, the boy with the pimples and my liver. He’s doing really good. It completely takes my mind off my father. Garrett’s tall and thin and he doesn’t have any muscles that I can see, so that’s a disappointment. He’s riding the bus home from school and it’s like a war zone. The bus driver acts like he’s deaf. A guy the size of Bluto is picking on some poor kid whose ears stick out like airplane wings. Once he’s off the bus, Bluto grabs hold of one and tries to twist it off! The poor little boy is crying and there’s snot running out of his nose. The big ape won’t let go. Garrett walks up to him and lamb blasts him in the side of the head. You will not believe the beating that follows. When it’s over Garrett picks up what’s left of his body, shoves his hair out of his eyes, picks up his books, and makes his way home.

  “Come on Squirt,” he says to the boy with the airplane ears. “He won’t be bothering you again.”

  “He won’t?”

  “Nah,” Garrett says, “Now he’s much more interested in me. Hey—you want to see my pigs?”

  Garrett’s not a quarterback. He’s not a handsome stud like David. And he’s not the type I’m usually attracted to. But I’m drawn to him like a magnet.

  I want to be brave like Garrett. I want to face the truth about my father’s thoughts. I want to stare them right in the eye. And I want to say, Big deal! And I want to mean it.

  THE PORTHOLE OF TRUTH

  Alex Goodroe

  To hell with Grace; I’m not to blame here. She was unfaithful first. She slept with my partner, for chrissakes! She got pregnant for chrissakes! She aborted the baby for chrissakes.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Golden Window

  First—none of it was for Christ’s sake.

  Second—I have a baby brother or sister up here—somewhere in the Nursery of Lost Kisses and Hugs!

  I must find him—I mean her—I mean—you know what I mean.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The Golden Window

  Thank heaven for Mona. And thanks to the Golden Window I can lay here and watch her life. Rita and Mona have Bobby and Allison and Andy in Rita’s pool and are having a grand old time. Andy’s splashing everyone in sight. Bobby has his swim goggles and fins on and is trying to teach Allison how to snorkel. Allison’s not interested. Bradley’s inside taking a nap. Mona excuses herself to check on him.

  “Five more minutes, kids,” Rita says. “It’s time for Andy to take a nap, too.”

  “I not!” Andy says.

  With a bit of coaxing and promises of popsicles the children, including Andy, are now out of the pool. They stand at attention, dripping all over the kitchen floor, eagerly awaiting the frozen juice sticks.

  “I want purple,” Allison says.

  “I want bue,” Andy says. Oh, he’s so cute. He can’t pronounce “l”.

  “There aren’t any blue, Andy. How about orange?” Rita says.

  “Orn!” Andy says holding out one stubby hand.

  Rita hands him an orange Popsicle. When the treats are finished, Rita announces it’s time for Andy’s nap.

  “Come on, kids,” Mona announces. “It’s time for us to go home.”

  The phone rings. Rita’s holding Andy. He’s already nodding off. Mona takes him from her arms.

  “I’ll tuck him down.”

  She takes the sleepy two-year-old into his room, places him in his crib, covers him with a blanket, tiptoes out of the room and shuts the door.

  “Shhhhh,” she motions to Bobby and Allison. “Let’s go. Time for me to start thinking about dinner.”

  The rest of the afternoon seems to hold nothing out of the ordinary. Rita, done with her phone call, takes the phone off the cradle, and curls up with a book. Andy’s asleep. Moment’s later, Rita’s asleep, too.

  An hour or so passes; Mona’s fixing Lasagna for dinner and has enlisted Bobby and Allison’s help, or interference, depending how you see it. She realizes she’s out of eggs and she only needs one to mix with the ricotta. She tells the children to sit quietly; she’s going next door to Rita’s to borrow one. This is where the day changes from ordinary to meg-alo-extraordinary.

  Rita doesn’t answer the tap on her door. Mona peeks in and finds her asleep on the sofa. She tiptoes to the refrigerator to locate an egg. Retrieving one, she opens a kitchen drawer in search of a snippet of paper and a pen to write her a note. She finds paper but no pen. She quietly makes her way down the hallway to Rita’s home office. She notices Andy’s bedroom door is ajar. She peaks in. Andy’s not in his bed. The bottom drawer to his chest of drawers is open and his little bathing suits are scattered all about. They’re all there, his Big Red Dog one, his blue sailboat one, and his orange and white stripe one. All but the one he always insists on wearing: his Superman swim trunk.

  “Oh God!” Mona calls out. She dashes outside to the pool, screaming all the way. Rita jumps up from the sofa.

  “Whaaaaat? Whaaaaaat? Rita yells.

  Mona dashes up the plastic pool steps. Rita’s not far behind her. At the top of the steps, Mona’s worst fears are confirmed.

  Andy’s floating face down in the pool.

  THIRTY

  The Golden Window

  What’s happening right now is a perfect example why absolutely everyone should know CPR! The most innocent day can turn deadly and a perfectly breathing person can stop being a perfectly breathing person.

  And Andy’s definitely not breathing. Thankfully, Mona knows CPR and is keeping her cool, because Rita—I don’t know whether she knows CPR or not—is not keeping anything near hers. She’s running in circles, yelling, “God! Oh God! Oh God!�
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  You know how people always call on him when they feel totally helpless and don’t know what to do—like when they’re lost in a snowstorm, or stranded in the ocean, or in a bad car crash, when they lose all their money, or get really sick, when they have no ideas left about what to do. I don’t think he minds when they do that, but maybe he’d like it a lot if they’d call on him at other times too, maybe not even to ask him for anything, but maybe to just say, Hey, I was thinking about you. Anything you’d like me to do? Or maybe just thank him for stuff. I don’t know if Rita’s thinking any of those things. She’s still running in circles. Only she’s no longer calling on God. She has her head in her hands and she’s moaning her heart out. It’s hard to listen to. There’s a lump in my throat that’s completely blocking my airway.

  It takes Mona like two seconds to reach Andy, which is a miracle because Andy’s at the bottom of the pool!

  What I’m witnessing is taking a toll on me. I don’t want to find Andy up here. Rita went to so much trouble to have him. She needs to hang on to him.

  Mona is yelling for Rita to call 911. Rita comes to her senses enough to do that. Allison and Bobby have heard the commotion and are outside watching what is unfolding. Bobby has Bradley balanced on his skinny little hipbone. Allison is shrieking. Bobby has nerves of steel.

  “Shut up, Allison,” he says. “There’s enough noise, already, okay?”

  This little guy’s really something.

  The sirens are blaring in the background. There’s a fire station that was radioed the call not two miles from Rita’s home. The paramedics have arrived. They take over for Mona. There are three large men and one very large women hovering over Andy. Why is it paramedics are usually the size of their vehicles? Of course, it doesn’t matter, but I’ve noticed on TV when they show paramedics they’re mostly very large people. Don’t they take regular-sized people into their training program?

  Regardless, they are doing an outstanding job. Andy is now sputtering like a leaky hose. And he’s no longer blue. It’s a major relief.

  At the hospital the doctor’s not so optimistic. He says they will have to wait and see if there’s any brain damage. That’s when Rita loses it again.

  There are only two things I can tell you: Never take an ordinary day for granted. And immediately get certified on CPR! Mona, knowing how to administer it, saved Andy’s life. It’s up to God to save his brain.

  THIRTY-ONE

  The Golden Window

  Pete says it’s urgent that he speak with me.

  “Our new arrival is having a very difficult time. She refuses to come out of the Golden Window.”

  “But I’m in the Golden Window!” I say, confused. There’s no one else here.

  “Lorelei, everyone has their own”

  “Cool!” I say. “What about Miss Lily? She always uses mine.”

  “That’s because when she looks through hers, all she sees is that train wreck” Pete points out.

  I wince. “Goodness.”

  “Not good at all,” Petes says. “And I’m afraid it’s worse with Carla.”

  “Carla?”

  “Our new arrival. Will you help?”

  “Sure. But what can I do?”

  Pete puts his arm around my shoulder.

  “Lorelei,” he whispers softly. “All she does is sit in the window and stare at what’s happened to her.”

  “I know, you said that, but I don’t know what I can do—”

  “Just be with her,” Pete says and turns to go. He nods his head for me to follow.

  Carla’s on another sphere of what Pete calls “the front porch”. This place is endless. It stretches on forever.

  “Hello Carla,” Pete calls out. “I’ve brought you someone your own age to keep you company.”

  I step forward and smile brightly.

  “Hi! I’m Lorelei. Welcome to h—heav—ah, welcome to—” I stutter.

  “To Paradise,” Pete says. “Soon, you’ll see that it is, Carla, I promise.”

  “Is there room for me?” I ask.

  She nods slightly and pats the big satin pillow she’s resting on. I settle in next to her.

  “I’ll be off then,” Pete says. “Let you two get acquainted.

  “But Pete, Pete,” I call out after him. “What, ah, what—”

  “Order a pizza!—or, maybe some Chinese. Use the bell. You can ring for anything!”

  With that he’s gone. It’s true. There’s a bell hanging with a braided velvet rope. I have one too, but I thought it was just for looks, you know, for atmosphere. I find out new things everyday. I yank the rope. It’s like room service. A golden scroll unfolds from a white cabinet. Everything possible to eat is listed. It’s at least ten miles long. The choices are listed in alphabetical order. Heaven thinks of everything.

  I turn to see if Carla would like to order something. She’s staring down at Earth, fixated on a park-like setting. It’s very dark and hard to make out just what’s going on. I take a closer look. There’s a large assortment of swings, three slides—each one taller than the one before—a merry-go-round, sand boxes, picnic tables and lots of trees. There’s a full moon. In the corner I see a large shadowy figure moving next to a long row of bushes. The shadow is watching someone cut through the park. It’s a girl. My stomach flips over like a pancake. It’s Carla! She has on the same brown sweatshirt that she’s wearing now. I close my eyes hoping the image will pass. When I open them again, the shadow’s right behind her. He lunges at her and wraps the crook of one arm around her neck. His free arm’s holding something shiny. It glistens in the moonlight. It’s a bowie knife. He places it next to Carla’s throat and tells her not to make a sound.

  “Take off your clothes!”

  She does exactly like he says. She takes off her jeans and her sweatshirt and puts them neatly on the ground. He tells her to take off the rest. She’s stands there naked with her arms wrapped around her chest. She’s shivering, but I don’t think it’s because of the cold. Her lips are quivering and her eyes are standing outside their sockets. She’s maybe five-foot-two inches tall and by the look of her ribs, weighs maybe ninety pounds. He places the knife against her belly and drags it slowly up to her breasts. He’s disgusting. He licks his lips. His teeth are the color of scum—if scum had a color—and he’s drooling like he hasn’t eaten in days. He rubs the front of his pants and then unbuckles his belt.

  “Get on the ground!” he spats, and some of his spittle lands on her chest.

  “Now!” he says. His voice sounds like it’s made out of gravel.

  Carla lowers herself slowly to the ground and lays on her back with her arms still across her chest.

  The man keeps the knife in his hand pressed firmly against Carla’s neck and grunts like a pig. When he’s finished he throws her jeans at her and says to get dressed. She grabs her sweatshirt and does like he says, her fingers shaking with palsy.

  “Turn around and count to ten,” he says “And I’ll be gone.”

  Carla continues to do like he says. But he lies like a rug. Carla starts counting. Before she even makes it to three, he stabs the bowie knife into her back.

  He stabs again and again. Carla crumples to the ground. She’s a small and tender heap of flesh riddled with blood. He keeps stabbing. The knife has gone through her back and is stuck in the ground.

  “Stop,” she says weekly, “Can’t you see?—I’m already dead.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  The Golden Window

  Carla’s had a very difficult life. She got an allowance of ten dollars a week, and her parents never once gave her a credit card, not ever. They don’t even have credit cards. I feel so bad. If there were a place to use them up here, I’d give her mine. But, we don’t need them. We can have anything we want for free.

  “We didn’t need them down there, either,” Carle says, and points below. “My dad just paid cash.”

  “Wow,” I say. I didn’t know people still did that.

  Carla’s bee
n in love with Joey Balducci since sixth grade. They were planning to marry and having exactly three children. I know people call that puppy love, but from the longing words that pour from her heart, it sounds like the real kind to me.

  She was on her way to his house when she cut through the park.

  “We meet every Friday night after my dad falls asleep and my mom goes to work at her night job,” Carla explains. “She’s a waitress. But in the day she’s a dental hygienist,” she adds, proudly.

  I’ve never known anyone whose mother waited on other people. My mother said those occupations are beneath us. Carla’s father Ralph’s a mechanic. I’m sure my mother would feel that he’s beneath us too, but who does she think does these important things in the world, like fixing cars and cleaning our teeth?

  Carla’s giving me all the details on her life, and I find it fascinating. She knows how to cook and do laundry and change the oil in a car. Cool! And Joey’s father’s a carpenter, so they’re both learning on weekends how to build decks and he pays them to learn. Carla looks like a hammer would be heavier than her.

  “I can drive nails with the best of them,” she says.

  I’m glad I have gotten her mind off the Golden Window. Later I’ll tell her that there are other things for her to at look through the window, if she finds she’s like me and doesn’t want to let go. And if her heart can’t heal, I’ll beg Pete to let her have a Silver Window, so she can experience life again with Joey.

  We’ve ordered Pizza with lobster. Sounds gross, but they are two of our favorite foods, so I thought why not order it as a combination with lots of cheese and if we don’t like it we’ll order something else, you know?—but we love it!

  And now she’s getting to the really interesting parts of her life. She’s had SEX! No one my age that I know personally has had sex, or if they have, they didn’t tell me. I wondered why she and Joey didn’t start having those three children, and she says she’s been taking the pill since the very first time they decided to just go ahead and do it.