I have not been as diligent as I should have been with this work. I apologize to any who may be reading (if there are any such as yet) but I have been very busy with my work on the surface of the Earth. Both of my cases are showing great progress—sometimes I will dip down into Lamarr’s apartment, just to hear Tammy laugh. Ramona and Jesse need closer attention. I am helping Ramona to learn sign language quickly, so that she can speak to Jesse without the need for anyone else to be present. The ability to be alone together is important for a developing relationship.
Alone together may seem to be a strange concept: we angels are always either entirely alone or at one with our family. The humans, however, are isolated even when surrounded by others, and they must work to make the connections that are given easily to us.
So as I said, I have been busy. I am actually being considered for another case now. But something new did happen yesterday, and I would like to share it.
It began with a request from one of my brother Cupids. Nehisi took longer at his training than I did, and he was having trouble with his first case. He asked if I would assist him, and of course I agreed. More than wishing to help my brother, it was flattering that he believed me to be capable of assisting him.
I arrived early at the restaurant where he told me his assignment would be. Nehisi was not there, but I did not expect him to be: among his difficulties is in recognizing the passage of time on Earth. That was all right to me—there was much to observe.
A restaurant is a crowded place where people come to eat food that is prepared for them. It is a place full of emotion and turmoil, with many different people talking and eating, and around and among them the hard-working people who serve them. In most of these workers there is a light resentment at the disregard and unkindness they encounter from those who come to them. It is sad to see such reluctant servants, when we find such joy in service. Often, however, their resentment is justified, for those they serve are sometimes very unkind to them, simply because they can act thus without facing consequences. Such a desire is clear evidence of the Enemy’s influence.
Nehisi had told me that his assignment could be found at the “bar”, an area of the restaurant where they serve liquids that are not good for the humans. I am not certain why they imbibe these liquids, but they do, and in vast quantities.
The woman at the bar who stood out most to me was a tall woman, her hair like flame and an uncommon light in her eyes. She was smiling all the while, and the person on the other side of the bar—which is really a very long, narrow table, set higher than all the rest—was glad to have her to talk to. There was an air of sharing secrets between them, and I could understand why, for the fire-haired woman had an aura of trustworthiness about her, so strong and warm that I was certain even the humans could feel it.
“I’d toast to the weekend,” she was saying to the bartender, “but I know that you’re moving into the hardest part of your week. So how about I just wish you luck?”
The bartender—isn’t that a wonderful word?—laughed at that and nodded. “I’m going to need it.”
“Rough night?” the fire woman asked.
“Rough life,” the bartender answered, sighing, and I could feel the misery clouding around her.
Down the bar, a man waved for her attention, and she went to tend to him. I drew closer to the fire woman, intrigued by her. She seemed to have a very bright spirit, but it was muted somehow. Rather like a light under a basket. But the goodness…it was brimming out from her.
That goodness made her ask, when the bartender came back, “So what exactly is so rough?”
The bartender raised her brows, which I’ve learned is an expression of doubt.
“Oh, come on,” the fire woman said, spreading her hands. “You have to play therapist to every whiny Joe who comes in here for a shot. Let someone do it for you for a change.”
That made the bartender laugh, though the sound didn’t last very long. She leaned over the bar, getting closer to the fire woman so she could speak in a low tone. “I think my boyfriend is going to break up with me tonight,” she said.
“Oh, no,” the fire woman said, her sympathy real. “That is rough. What makes you think that?”
The woman shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know, he’s just… For the longest time, I wasn’t sure it was going to work out with us. We were friends forever and he was pushing for more, and everyone else was pushing for more, and I just wasn’t sure. And then we got together, but I still held back.” Her words come faster now, as if she has been suppressing them for some time. Do words do that—burst out of someone like water? It seems so. “And then the past couple of weeks I’ve been getting the feeling that he’s backing away, and I finally feel like I don’t want him to go, but I don’t know how to tell him that. What if he gets mad at me for changing my mind? What if it’s too late?”
She stops, and embarrassment colors her face. “Well, I’ve just really been stressing about it,” she says, turning away and reaching for something to do with her hands.
I don’t understand why humans do this. She obviously has needed to speak of this to someone for a long time, and yet no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she tried to dismiss them, tried to hide them away again.
The fire woman was having none of it. She reached out and took the bartender’s wrist, then her hand. “I work a lot with writers,” she said, “and one thing they’re always saying is ‘show, don’t tell.’ I think it works for people too. Words are hard.” She makes a face, and both women laugh. “But love…love is easy. And if you really love him, then don’t let the words stand in the way. Find a way to make it sweet between you again, to draw him in, and then show him that you’re ready to let him stay.” She lets go and shrugs. “Does that make sense?”
The bartender smiles a smile that means she doesn’t quite know. “I guess it’s worth a try. I’ll think about it.”
“Do that,” the fire woman said with a wink.[1]=
I watched as she paid for her drink, finished it, and rose to leave. She was wearing sleek, dark clothing in solid colors, clothing that I have learned gives a measure of status to the wearer. Indeed, as she left the restaurant, people stepped out of her way.
I was following her out when Nehisi arrived and called out to me. “Where are you going?” he asked me.
I gestured after the fire woman. “Should we not go after her? She is leaving.”
He looked after the woman without seeming to see her. “No, this is my assignment.” He indicates the bartender.
I was puzzled. The woman had stood out so much to me, I had been certain she was the one Nehisi was assigned to help.
“I apologize for my mistake,” I said, returning to stand with Nehisi. “What is her name?”
“Lila Conroy,” he explained. “She is in school to be an accountant, which I believe is something to do with money or numbers. She has potential to do very great good, but a rejection on this night may send her down the wrong path.” He was very anxious by the importance of this case. “Please help me, brother.”
I studied Lila Conroy. She was a quiet, thoughtful woman, small, with hair starkly black against her pale face. I thought about what she had told the fire woman—about her uncertainty, and then the sudden prospect of loss that made her realize what she had. Far too often this is how humans find what is most important to them—the possibility of losing it. It is tragic, but true.
At first I did not know what to do. Lila was of an anxious disposition—I could read it quite clearly in her. Any outside influence might easily be rejected by her mind, and might even make the situation worse. Also, on such an important evening, a hinge in her life, as it were, the action should come from her, and should be true.
I remembered what the fire woman had said. Find a way to make it sweet between you again, to draw him in, and then show him you’re ready to let him stay.
To make it sweet, I thought. And then I had an idea.
“Give me a moment,” I told Nehisi, and I went into the kitchen.
In the southern part of my assigned region, there is a certain drink the humans enjoy very much. They first brew dried leaves of a certain plant to make the drink, called ‘tea’, and then they pour sugar into it. Sugar is the source of most sweetness that is found in human food.
I had learned from observing Lamarr that humans working together will often divide their tasks, and this restaurant was no exception. The task of preparing the portions of sugar fell to a young girl, who was very tired that night. I touched her, whispering to her that she should ask someone else to do it for her, perhaps offering to help another night in exchange—perhaps Lila. The two were friends, were they not?
While Nehisi watched curiously, the young girl spoke to Lila, asking her to finish the job for her. “It won’t take you too long, and I’ll make it up to you some other night. I’ll dust the wine bottles on the display, or mop the floors for you.”
Lila was easy to convince—she was not eager to leave, and she is kind. The task, however, was more difficult than she thought. The bags she had to use for the portions kept breaking. (I may have had something to do with that.) Twice she got sugar all over herself, falling into her clothing and coating her skin.
It made her irritated, but at least it was a distraction from her troubles. She didn’t even remember to worry until she had arrived at her house and saw the lights on, her boyfriend waiting for her.
Nehisi and I watched as she went inside and found the man playing video games[2] in her room. He didn’t look up as he asked her how her night was, and his voice was uninterested.
Using her irritation to fuel her words, she complained about the busyness, the rude customers, the bad tips.[3] “And then,” she says, throwing her jacket on the ground, “I had to portion out the sugar for Michelle, and the stupid bags were making a huge mess. I got sugar all over me, so now I’m sweaty and sticky.”
The man stopped paying attention to the game at that, though he didn’t look at her. He laughed. “Sounds kinky,” he murmured under his breath.
Lila was probably not meant to hear him, but she did. She froze, tensing, but then she took a deep breath and turned around, giving him a smile. “Want a taste?” she asked him.
He was surprised by this, but the words pleased him. “Maybe I do,” he said, rising from the sofa.
Out of courtesy, Nehisi and I excused ourselves at that. Some things are meant to be a mystery, even to angels.
Nehisi tells me that the atmosphere is easier between Lila and her man today. They still have some way to go, but the danger point is past, he believes. He was very impressed with my solution. I tried to tell him that it wasn’t my idea, but he doesn’t believe me.
It amazes me how he didn’t see the fire woman at all. She seemed so brilliant to me. She had her shadows, as do all humans, but I have yet to see a human as bright as she.
I suppose it is simply a differing perspective. Angels may not be as diverse as humans, but we do have our differences.
I will probably never see her again—I do not even know her name. But I will remember her. Perhaps she is one of those who remembers her true purpose, on some level, and serves willingly, spreading light in the world. I prefer to believe that, even if it is not true—it is encouraging, and makes me hope that the Long Fight will not be so long, after all.
[1] A human gesture in which one eye is closed briefly, indicating secrets shared or amusement.
[2] A common pastime for humans involving electronics and often-violent images that they control with various tools. I have yet to study this pastime in detail, so it remains mostly mysterious to me, but many humans enjoy it very much, to the extent of spending many hours at it.
[3] Forgive me, I am still trying to discover what this means. It is something to do with money, and is the source of much anxiety and irritation among people who work in restaurants.