The Light

by Francis CoCo

  “His sister still touches base with my mother every once in a while, asks how I’m doing- if he’d died, she would have told us...”

  I didn’t know what to say to this.

  “I’m sorry, that sounds awful. To have a father out there and you haven’t… I mean, if he hasn’t contacted you in so long...”

  Angela smiled- seemed to brush the thought away.

  “It’s fine,” she said, “in fact, I haven’t thought of him much. I was angry- I mean, I’ve been angry but, now, every morning when I wake up, I think about him. I don’t know why now- why when I wake up I lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling and think about him. It’s like I’d blocked it- blocked him from my mind, but now I think about him and I can’t not think about him. It keeps coming up.”

  She leaned forward and smashed out her cigarette in the ashtray.

  Outside it was rainy and gray. Rain dripped from the roof, from the trees, cars slushed down the street. Everything was soaked. It made for a depressing day. I didn’t know what to say. My own father had been amazing. I had been lucky in that regard. He’d just called me the day before- and told me about his herb garden. He loved being retired, he was beginning to do all the things he’d wanted to do but had never had the time. Now, he was like a male Martha Stewart.

  “It’s been ever since the Light, you know, I don’t know why- I can’t explain it- but since, the Light I have been thinking of things I hadn’t thought about –things I’d pushed down I suppose, things that haven’t bothered me have begun to eat away at me...and it seems now they won’t go away- I can’t make them go away… it’s all coming to the surface. It’s very frustrating.”

  I looked at the tattoo on her forearm, peeking out from beneath the blue velour robe she was wearing. The red rose with blue tears dripping from it. To say that she’ d changed since the Light would be an understatement. We all had changed but Angela had changed the most significantly. People at work were still trying to figure out what had happened to alter her so dramatically and I continued to play dumb when they asked me.

  “Maybe it’s time to look him up, get some closure.”

  Angela reached for the pack of Lucky Strike’s from the table- lit another cigarette- glanced over at me as she exhaled smoke, “Oh no, I couldn’t- he… well, as my mother so bluntly put it- he made his choice. He could have been there, if that was what he wanted, he could have watched me grow up, or, at the very least, he could have called every one in a while, hell, he could have called just once...”

  Ouch. I guess he had but, she should look him up. Almost twenty years had gone by, maybe he felt differently. Maybe he was embarrassed that he’d walked away. Sometimes you do things when you’re young that you’re sorry for when you get older. I told her this.

  “Maybe,” she said, rubbing her head. The short hair was still a shock. She’d had such gorgeous long blonde hair. She was beautiful no matter what and with her hair cut off like that- it really made her face stand out and strangely, made her even more beautiful. But in the most uncommon way.

  “You know what’s odd?” she said, “I remember – and I don’t know why I remember this all of a sudden, because, I haven’t thought of this probably since it happened, but I remember riding in the car with him one day and that song came on, the one with the verse, Papa was a rolling stone, wherever he left his hat was his home and when he died all he left us was alone… and so, this song was on, and I remember my father saying to me, Angela, my father did that to me, he just up and left, just like this song...and he looked like he was going to cry and I felt so bad for him and then...he went and did the same thing to me.”

  That was rough. I told her I was sorry. Again, I suggested she try and look him up but again, she said she didn’t want to.

  “Another thing,” she said, “so odd… but, I woke up this morning remembering my birthday when I was six or seven, we were at Chuck E. Cheese… my mom was there but, for some reason, as I was lying in bed, I didn’t recall much of her that day, just my dad… eating pizza, handing me presents to open, laughing...and, Six Flags, us standing in line at Six Flags, waiting for one of the rides, I think it was the roller coaster we were waiting to ride, and there was this blonde woman in front of us, smoking,” Angela laughed, “and my dad leaned over and said, Angela, don’t ever smoke, it isn’t attractive, and you’ll end up with a scratchy smokers voice when you get old if you do, - that’s probably why I never smoked, well, until now.”

  She turned and looked at me and smiled, “I haven’t thought of these things in years- why now? I mean, these random scenes running through my mind, I don’t know why...”

  “I don’t know,” I said, “I guess if you push things down, they come up at some point. I suppose they have to.”

  Angela nodded but didn’t say anything.

  After a few minutes, she stood up and giggled, “I’m sorry to be such a drag, I just...I feel crazy,” she said crossing the hardwood floor. She was barefoot and I saw that she had another tattoo, one I hadn’t seen before, on her foot. It was a dolphin. She had mentioned before that she hated the beach and the ocean. Why did she get a dolphin, I wondered? But, no matter, we were discussing her father, I would ask her about the new tattoo later.

  “Why?” I said.

  “Don’t you?”

  “Well, no. Because of the Light, you mean? It happened. We were all there. Why should I feel crazy?”

  “I’ve felt crazy ever since. I’ve become aware of myself in a way I never was before. I feel like, before the Light, I was able to go through my day to day without much thought. I was able to not think of things that might have bothered me and now, I think of those things constantly. I want to go back to the person that I was. Now, there are things at the forefront of my mind that I don’t want to think about but they won’t go away. I can’t seem to get back to myself.”

  She looked at me. I didn’t know what to say. I, also had become aware of myself and the world around me since our encounter. But for me, it was different. For me the world had come alive in a strange way. It was sort of like when you fall in love and you’re excited and the world looks different even though it’s the same. It’s exactly the same, but it’s also different. That’s how I felt – excited, but also a little scared.

  “Is that why, all of the...tattoos and your hair and everything?”

  Angela laughed. She went into the kitchen and made herself a Kahlua and Creme. She came back into the living room holding two glasses, and handed me one as well.

  “Well, yeah, sort of… I mean, I just, I don’t care – if that makes sense, I do care but I also don’t, like, before, cutting off all my hair would have seemed like such a big deal and now I realize that it doesn’t matter at all- hair is only, hair. Now it seems that the things that matter are real issues. Issues I didn’t even realize were issues. Hair is not an issue- you know?”

  I took a sip of my Kahlua and nodded, “I get that.”

  Angela plopped down on the sofa.

  “But then, on the flip side, things that I didn’t think were such a big deal, or things I thought I’d come to terms with, like my dad leaving, now those things are bothering me. And yet, things like having a cigarette or getting a tattoo or cutting my hair, those things are just, like, so what? You know?”

  “I do. I get what you’re saying. It makes sense.”

  “And then, the funny thing is, that people are thinking that I’ve lost my mind or something all because I cut off all my hair, and that isn’t true at all- I’ve regained my mind- It’s like, my mind is working overtime for Chrissakes, but all anyone sees is the hair or the...” she looked down at the tattoo on her forearm.

  “It’s not so bad, is it?” she said.

  I smiled, “No. If I could figure out why the tears were blue, I’d love it.”

  “Who fucking cares,” Angela said and laughed.

  “Well?” she said, cocking her head to the side.

  “Well what?” I didn’t know what she wanted m
e to say.

  “Do you feel like yourself? How are you holding up?”

  “Oh, I’m alright,” I said, “I think I’m a lot like you- I feel more like myself. Since the Light, I’ve felt more like myself than I’ve ever felt.”

  _____

  When Angela had gone home and I was alone in my apartment, I thought about what she’d said- about becoming aware of herself in such a way- since the Light. She was right about that. A very similar thing had happened to me. I didn’t feel crazy, that is not what seeing the Light made me feel, but, as far as becoming more aware, I could certainly agree with that. An odd thing that had happened to me, was that my life had begun to play out like a reel from a movie. In my mind. Sometimes I would wake up in the morning and just lay there and all these random scenes would play out in my head. The most obscure things – like standing in line in the hall, outside the lunch room when I was in kindergarten, and the smell of iced lemon cookies that the lunch ladies at my school used to make, rising up in the air, - the time I’d stolen my grandmother’s lipstick (bright cherry red) and put it on in the bathroom at school when I was in the second grade, and how the teacher called me out, and took me out into the hall and had a long talk with me about being too young to be wearing make up and especially for such bright lips, or the time I’d stayed home from school when I was eight because I had tonsillitis and none of my shows coming on that day because the Shuttle Challenger had blown up and they kept showing it, over and over and, since I was eight, I didn’t understand really that the Challenger had blown up and I was annoyed that my television shows weren’t coming on. Even things that didn’t matter at all were coming back to me, like being five or six and riding in the car with my mother during a very bad storm and our car being struck by lightening, and also, in that very same car, one afternoon riding home from school with my mother and hearing Elvis on the radio and my mother breaking down and crying because she loved Elvis and he was dead. They were just random memories with no real significance, but for whatever reason, they had now begun to play out in small clips in my head and I’d begun to remember and to think of things I hadn’t thought of in years.

  Chapter 9

  “The dog is back.”

  “Sorry?”

  “The dog- the black dog- he’s back,” Max said.

  I was half asleep, at my apartment. Angela stayed at Max’s house now constantly. She’d moved in, for all intents and purposes but I sometimes still needed to be alone and on those occasions, I came home. But I didn’t like it. Being alone. It unnerved me at times but it was necessary. I wasn’t like Angela- I couldn’t be up under someone constantly. Plus, I liked living alone and even though I wasn’t scared when I stayed at Max’s house, I still wasn’t ready to just move in with the two of them all because something potentially terrifying was outside my door.

  I pressed the speaker button on my cell phone and stretched. I sat up and pushed against the pillows- my bed- my warm, cozy bed- “Where’s Angela?” I said, rubbing my eyes, waking up.

  “She’s still sleeping, I’m outside- on the deck...”

  “What happened?”

  “Motherfuck. I can’t believe this shit.”

  I knew he was pacing – walking back and forth on his deck- I could see it- in my mind’s eye.

  Again, I asked him what happened.

  “I heard something at the window- you know- that window right by my bed?”

  Max had a large window beside his bed, right behind the little wooden side table filled with books and a vase that was always empty- needing some flowers. There was no curtain on the window. It looked out onto the row of trees that ran behind his house- the edge of the forest.

  “I heard something at the window, in the middle of the night last night and I leaned over and looked out and I was face to face with that goddamn dog.”

  “The one that tore up your flower beds?”

  “He had his fucking nose up to my window.”

  “Did Angela see him?”

  “No. She slept right through it. She’s still sleeping.”

  I looked over at the little clock that sat on my bedside table. Of course she was still sleeping- it was seven fifteen- on a Saturday! No wonder I was so tired. I’d gone to bed at two something the night before. I had a hard time falling asleep when it was just me.

  “You’re sure?”

  “What do you mean, am I sure? Of course I’m sure!”

  “No, I’m sorry, I just meant, you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

  “Paige, I know when the fuck I’m asleep and when I’m awake!”

  “Of course you do,” I said, kicking the covers to the end of the bed and getting up. I grabbed my robe from the back of the chair that sat in the corner by the door and made my way to the kitchen to make coffee. I told Max to start from the beginning; tell me what happened- I was listening.

  This is what he said: He’d been asleep- Angela beside him- and he’d awoke to the sound of something hitting the window beside his bed. He said at first he’d ignored it- living near the edge of the forest, it could be anything- he’d had deer come around the house many times, he’d even seen a wolf once, standing not far from that window and of course, there were always squirrels and chipmunks and all kinds of critters. But, this wouldn’t stop- this sound- which he now knew was the sound of the dog’s paws pressed up against the window. The pads of his big, mangy feet. And so, he’d leaned over and saw him- the strange black dog staring back at him.

  “He was just staring at me, Paige- this hard stare. Something about his face...”

  I poured the carafe of water into the coffee maker and pressed the green button. When he didn’t continue, I said, “His face? What about his face?”

  “His face was almost…”

  “Yeah? Almost what?”

  “Goddammit,” Max said, “I don’t care if you believe this or not- but his face was almost human.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t mean it looked human- it didn’t look like a human face- what I mean is, the expression – I’m talking about the expression on his face.”

  I leaned against the kitchen counter, looked at the coffee brewing. Not enough to make a cup. I asked him what he thought the expression meant- what was it saying?

  “He wants in.”

  “Why?”

  “Hell if I know. Hell if I know anything, anymore.”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down.

  “Max, listen, I believe you- I’m sure this dog is not… normal. I don’t know why you’re seeing these, shadow things, why you’ve seen this dog, why you’ve had these dreams, I don’t know why we saw the Light- I don’t know about any of it but I hope you know that I believe you.”

  “Thank you, I know you believe me. I know you do. But I’m starting to feel a little nuts, to tell you the truth. I’m feeling very crazy.”

  “Of course you are! I would feel crazy too, if I’d seen all the things you’ve seen. I only saw the Light and that was enough to make me feel like I had bats in the belfry. I can’t imagine if I were to see that dog, or those shadows...”

  We sat quiet for a few minutes. Neither of us said a word and then I said, “But Max, I’m worried...”

  “Yeah? What about?”

  “Well, besides the dream about the Earth being flat...which very well could have come from God… you know, to show us that the Bible is real, that God’s word is real… well, besides that- this other stuff...”

  “I know. I know what you’re going to say...”

  “I don’t want to but you have to agree...”

  “You think this other stuff is coming from the Devil.”

  “Don’t you?”

  Max gave a little laugh, “Paige, the very idea- I mean, the Devil? A guy with a pitchfork and a tail, named Beelzebub? The idea is so silly! Idiotic!”

  “How can you say that? After the dream? Where you were given the name! Someone or something told you that name! Told you about Ekron- and you don’t
believe in a Devil? How could you not?”

  I could hear him lighting a cigarette- heard him exhale smoke. He said, “Paige, don’t get me wrong- we saw something and certainly I’ve been seeing some weird shit- but, to think there’s some big bad Devil… it’s as ludicrous an idea as to think of some big guy with a beard in the sky sitting on a cloud, concerned with what I do with my genitals… it’s absurd.”

  “You mean, God?” I said, startled.

  “Right.”

  “Oh my God- you’re not going to tell me you don’t believe in God? Still? You still don’t believe in God?”

  “No, I do- I believe in a Creator- but, why would the Creator create a Devil? Because, if there is a Devil and if the Creator created all things, then he would have had to create him and why would he? Do you follow me?”

  “Yes, I follow you and you’re right- God did create the Devil – there’s a verse, in Isaiah – I can’t remember it off the top of my head, something to the effect of “I form the Light and create the Darkness; I make peace and create evil.”

  “God is saying that?” Max said.

  “Yes, God.”

  “And so, basically, God is telling us that he is all things- he is the good and the bad...”

  He had me flustered. I knew where he was going- I got what he was saying- but the idea that my God- the God I prayed to, was both things- I thought of the verse ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega,’ and again of, ‘I form the Light and create the Darkness; I make peace and create evil’

  I create evil

  I create evil

  “I heard once that the Devil was the dark side of God,” I said getting up and pouring myself another cup of coffee.

  “Well,” Max said, “I guess if that’s true, then we have nothing to worry about. Right? That would mean that there could not be any good or bad- because all of it is God.”

  I hated to agree with him but what he said made sense.

  I create evil

  It was right there in the Bible. And yet, I didn’t want to believe it.