Angels

Angels

         Justine wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffed loudly. She turned her face away from the phone, as if not wanting to offend the party on the other end, even though there was no party on the other end yet. Her soap opera was on, the volume now muted, but Justine could still see the funeral of her favorite character being played out silently on the TV screen. Three weeks from now, this same character would miraculously return from the dead; just as three weeks from now, Justine would scramble to come up with the one hundred and two dollars this phone call would cost her. But how could Justine know either of these things right now? She'd have to be psychic - and the psychic, apparently, was not answering her phone today. At least that's what Justine thought while the ringing signal continued in her ear. And Madame Sapphire never would end up mentioning the one hundred and two dollars, although Justine wouldn't think of that until much, much later.

         Right now, though, she watched the muted mourners on TV and wondered if she was really loosing it or maybe just had PMS. Crying! What a way to spend a day off. What's gotten into me lately and what am I doing now? This is ridiculous; I'm being silly. Even if you believe in psychics, the phone is not the place to find a respectable one, she told herself. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and a barely audible, yet pitiful little sob escaped her lips at the exact moment the psychic came on the line.

         "Hello? Are you there? This is Madame Sapphire…"

         "Yes, I'm here," said Justine, her voice hoarse from crying. She sniffed again.

         "Why, what's the matter, child?" Compassion oozed from Madame Sapphire's voice.

         "I'm sorry, I'm just a little upset. It's silly." She wiped the fresh tears away, composing herself again, "I'm sorry."

         "Now, dear, anything that has you so upset that you're crying can't be all that silly, now can it? Are you OK? Can you talk now? Why don't you tell Madame Sapphire all about it? I'm here to help you any way that I can," her voice was smooth, thick and plush, like velvet. She spoke slowly, enunciating all her words carefully, with a bit of a Southern lilt. "Now, child, what's your name? And what in Heaven has you so upset?"

         A real psychic would already know, thought Justine. Instead she said, "My name is Justine Graham." While the psychic verified her credit card number, Justine was too preoccupied to listen to the instructions telling her how to receive ten psychic reading minutes, absolutely free. What did she say her name was? Madame Sapphire? Justine couldn't help but snicker to herself. She felt ridiculous, like a high-school girl consulting the ouiji board. She'd done that too, back then. "I'm not sure why I called you," she told Madame Sapphire when she came back on the line, "but it's this stupid soap opera that's got me crying."

         "A soap opera? Now, dear, I don't think that's it at all. Justine, what's your birthday, Sugar?" Justine told her and Madame Sapphire continued; "I see that you are an Aquarian…there's some powerful energy surrounding you now. Venus is now in Aries, a very fiery sign. Venus, of course, is the planet concerning love, which means that there may be some very troubling occurrences in your love relationships right now. Combined with the current influence of Saturn, the effects might be intensified." Madame Sapphire paused, and in a tender voice said, "Is this making any sense to you?"

         "I don't know." It didn't make any sense at all, but Justine went on, "I don't really have any love relationships right now. I divorced my husband last year. My family is two hundred and fifty miles away. I guess I'm a little homesick. I haven't really made any friends here, yet." People here were different from people at home; here they were more sophisticated, but hard and sharp. The pace of this city was much faster that Justine had been accustomed to and it had taken her the better part of a year to adjust. Lately, though, she was feeling a bit more settled in her new routine. She'd landed a decent job, set herself up in nice apartment, and enrolled in a couple of classes at the community college. All in all, she thought she was being pretty strong, doing pretty damn good - until this.

         "Well, Precious, all that sounds as if it might be terribly lonely. Why did you move away from your family?" Precious. Justine's grandmother used to call her Precious.

         "Oh, I just wanted to get away," Justine said rather dramatically, "After the divorce I was drained and I felt lost. I wanted a new life, my life. I didn't know who I was. I felt like Michael had robbed me of myself; I devoted so many years to him and our marriage, for nothing. Wasted time. He didn't love me. After that, I decided to live my life for me, and I couldn't do it over there, with so many memories, where the ghost of my life with Michael would haunt me every day. I love my family and they love me, but I had to do this by myself, for myself."

         "Well…your Taurus rising shows that you do possess a firm character of strong will. Yet I see that there's an extremely sensitive side to you too. Your moon is in Cancer, and Cancer is the most sensitive sign of the zodiac. Perhaps that can help explain why you're so upset now, dear. The alignment influences us. Is it that you're really homesick? Do you miss your friends and family…or perhaps… Michael?"

         "Funny you should ask." She must be psychic, Justine thought, ironically. "I thought I had let it go. I thought I was doing really well, I thought I was getting on with my life. I was feeling pretty good about myself, but then just this past week or so, I've been having dreams about him. Not nightmares, either, not dreams about the end of our relationship or the divorce, but really good dreams, like back when we were dating, when we first fell so madly in love. I don't know why I'm dreaming of him like this. They're good dreams, but I wake up and it's now and everything's different, and I'd like to move forward, but I moved all the way over here to get a new life and now it's like he's haunting me in my dreams! I don't need to be dreaming of a time that's ancient history now. I don't like it, it disturbs me."

         "Dreams can be powerful forces in our lives. They are our subconscious thoughts trying to come to life--" Madame Sapphire said.

         "Well I don't want Michael back in my life, not even my dream life!" Justine cut Madame Sapphire off in mid-sentence. "Those were beautiful, carefree times, the happiest time of my life, back then. But that was a long time ago and those are distant memories. Dreaming of this now, after all we've been through, after all I've been through, is confusing and depressing me. I wake up feeling sad."

         "Perhaps it is not actually Michael, that you're dreaming about." Madame Sapphire was patient; and seemed not to mind the interruptions at all, allowing Justine to talk, without pressuring her to get to the point. "Perhaps your subconscious is remembering a time when your soul was truly happy. It is trying to relive that happy period of time again, because your soul is now so lonely. All souls need love and light and happiness."

         Justine paused, taking Madame Sapphire's words in. "Wwell, maybe…I just really don't want think about Michael at all any more." Madame Sapphire was sounding a little smarter now. It made sense, sort of; it might explain why she was dreaming like that lately, because her soul was lonely. Justine thought for a second and had to admit to herself that while she had been making great strides in getting on with her life, a lot of it involved just going through the motions, with very little meaningful interaction between herself and any one, really. There is a certain part of me that has been neglected, she thought to herself. Part of me is dead inside. She said, "But I can't imagine ever falling in love again. Or ever feeling as happy as I once did, with Michael."

         "Justine, Sugar, don't you go out with your girlfriends? Haven't you met any one interesting at all? I do see a man by your side; I do not see you alone." Madame Sapphire kept the conversation up, without any awkward silences or uncomfortable pauses.

         "I went out with a couple of girls from work, a couple of times. But I didn't really enjoy myself. You know the club scene; it's pretty shallow. That's not for me. But I haven't met one interesting man or been on a single date since the divorce. Actually, since before I was married. To tell you the truth, I haven't even really thought about it too much. I was trying to concentrate on just getting some friends first, but it's taking me some time. Back home I knew every one my whole life. I just don't get the people here; they're so different from the town where I'm from. It's not that far away, but it's like a different world." Justine thought about her friends back home. Some of them had come over for weekend visits a few times, and it had been fun. They were solid and true; they would always be there for her, and Justine was grateful for this. Still, she didn't want them to know she was homesick or the least bit unhappy here; after all, it had been Justine's decision to move away. They had all tried to talk her out of it.

         Madame Sapphire's velvety voice interrupted Justine's thoughts. "Now, child, there's something you can do. You're going to write a letter to the angels. The angels will help bring love to your lonely soul. I want you to listen carefully and follow instructions exactly, OK?"

         Justine realized this was important and she didn't want to miss anything. "Wait…can you hold on? I want to write this down, but I don't have anything to write with. Oh, God, sorry…will you hold on, please? I'll be right back."

         "Just take your time, Precious," Madame Sapphire didn't seem to mind holding, not in the least. After all, it was Justine's dime. Or one hundred and two dollars, rather, but that still wouldn't come for much later.

         I couldn't possibly have been talking for more than an hour, could I? This Justine wondered, when she noticed the time as she hung up the phone. But it had indeed taken exactly seventy-eight minutes for Justine to purge herself; Madame Sapphire had been such a good listener, so understanding. Her voice had soothed Justine. Now she felt calm and almost excited, somehow, about the task at hand. Now, she thought, here was a thing to do. This is something concrete, a definite action I can take. It's better than sitting on the sofa, crying. Justine looked at her notes from the conversation, which was really a list:

Letter to the Angels
Parchment, unbleached paper (paper bag OK)
Dollar Store
Angel gift - pray for perfect recipient
Gift of money
Be Specific
Light a white candle every day!!!

         She got a brown paper bag, cut it at the seams, and spread it out flat on the table, poised to write her letter. It was more than just a letter, really, Justine thought, but not so much a spell, or a charm. It's an appeal; she settled on a word that fit. She was to write out an appeal, to the angels, for a man. The brown paper was necessary because, as Madame Sapphire explained, "Angels cannot read bleached paper, their eyes are so pure." She also said that Justine should be very specific in her request, detailing as many characteristics of her ideal man as she could. At first, Justine had trouble getting started; she felt like she was placing an order with a catalogue company. It seemed asinine, but she wrote anyway, eventually thinking, what the hell, if I can just order up a man like this, I might as well shoot for the moon. She wound up being very specific; and when she was satisfied with her appeal written, she consulted her notes to see what she should do next. Oh, yes, she remembered, the angel gift of money.

         The Dollar store was old, dusty, and cramped. Madame Sapphire herself had given her the idea to look for an angel statue here. It didn't have to be anything special, just a small figure of an angel. The five-block walk had given Justine a chance to reflect on the afternoon's events. First the phone psychic, and now angels, she thought, scolding herself as she browsed. She felt ridiculous and silly, but finally, she reasoned, that since she had felt so much better just spilling her guts to Madame Sapphire, and since she did spend two hours writing her appeal, and she did walk all the way over here, she might as well complete the job.

         Twice she bumped into other shoppers as she perused the shelves. She found what she was looking for back in the far corner of the store; they were perfect! Angel magnets, in various cherubic poses and expressions of bliss, they were small and cute and precious, thought Justine. Unable to decide on one, she chose two. Her fridge was already covered with magnets; she hardly needed another one, but thought she'd like to keep one anyway.

         Justine was second on line at the cash register. Beside her, a little old lady was admiring her angel magnets. She said something to Justine in Spanish.

         "Sorry, I don't understand," Justine said. "I don't speak Spanish."

         "She said that those angels are very pretty," said the cashier, acting as translator while she began ringing Justine up.

         Justine looked at the little old lady behind her. She guessed the lady to be around seventy years old, and while she was only a couple inches over five feet tall herself, Justine felt like a giant, towering over her. They stood there, grinning at each other for a second, and Justine handed her money to the cashier. There was something in the lady's eyes that Justine recognized. It was both beautiful and sad; it touched her. Maybe her soul is lonely too, Justine wondered. She looks like she's been through a lot, poor little thing, shopping in this grimy dollar store. She looks like she endured, though. She looks like she came out on top, thought Justine, only to be cast aside, now, in her golden years. All that struggling, all that surviving, and for what? To be ignored, forgotten and left alone? Ah, I'm imagining things; reading way too much into stuff today, thought Justine.

         For whatever reason, though, her transaction now finished, Justine turned to the old lady and handed her one of the angel magnets.

         The old lady looked bewildered and it took a minute for her to comprehend. "Para mi?" For me, she asked, incredulously. Her face suddenly came to life. She was positively beaming as she smiled at Justine and looked at her new angel gift.

         In an instant, Justine felt warmth wash over her. She had made an old lady smile; she had connected with her.

         "Thank you," said the old lady, with a heavy accent.

         "You're welcome. I didn't know why I got two anyway. I only need one, really," Justine said, aware that the lady had no idea what she was saying. She smiled again at the lady as she left the store.

         The warmth Justine felt from that exchange seemed to stay with her the entire walk home. She knew she was being overly sentimental, but despite herself, Justine couldn't help but think that it was a wonderful feeling, making some one happy, even just for a second. She knew deep down, though, that most likely she'd made the lady's whole day. She knew that probably every day the old lady would look at the little angel on her fridge and remember Justine and feel the same warmth. It had been more than a second.

         The joy stayed with her as she took a minor detour, to the little church. Madame Sapphire said that churches were good places because they believe in angels there. Justine fastened a ten-dollar bill to the back of the remaining angel magnet, using the rubber band she'd slipped around her wrist for this very purpose. She walked to the quietest side of the church, and discretely stuck the angel's magnetic back to the wrought iron fence surrounding the grounds. She closed her eyes and, just as she'd been instructed to do, said a silent little prayer, that the perfect recipient should find her gift. It didn't occur to Justine, that they already had. Her task was complete. Still thinking about the old lady's smile, Justine walked the rest of the way home to wait for her man to arrive.