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NICHOLAS STARTS THE next day in an unexpected way, but it's a good way. He decides to mow the lawn of his elderly next door neighbor, Ray. He's been doing this for years, without any monetary reward, and it always pleases me. Humans on the Earth plane are always driven by their endless need for money, so it's rare to see anyone perform a favor—a real favor—without any thought for compensation. I'm proud of Nicholas when he does this, and I believe it will result in good karma for him. If he doesn't reap it in this life, I'm sure he'll be rewarded in the afterlife.
He spends nearly two hours cutting Ray's grass, the backyard and the front. At the end of his chore, his face is red and slick with sweat. He turns off the lawn mower, sits on Ray's porch, and sneaks a cigarette. Ray's not a fan of smoking. He's also not a fan of drinking, so Nicholas has temporarily abandoned his flask. He finishes his cigarette, crushes it, and tosses it into a bush.
“Ohh, Nicholas... that's littering!” I complain. “You know I don't approve of that!”
Sometimes I can get through to him. Most of the time, I can't. He definitely doesn't rush to retrieve the squashed cigarette from Ray's overgrown bush.
“You know, maybe you should offer to trim Ray's bushes too?” I suggest. “You don't think that would offend him, do you?” Personally, I like the look of an unpruned bush, made wild by nature. I doubt Ray's neighbors are too impressed, though.
The smell of cigarette smoke has almost dissipated when Ray steps outside. He stands next to Nicholas with his usual stooped posture, and asks with a smile, “Would you like some candies?”
“You know what, Ray? I sure would,” Nicholas says, opening a palm to accept his neighbor's treats. This is the usual payment. Nicholas doesn't get money for cutting Ray's grass, he gets sweets. Most of the time, it's a handful of hard candy or a Dum Dum lollipop. On a really good day, it might be an entire Hershey bar. Today, Nicholas is paid with three peppermint circles—or rather, starlight mints. Those have been around since I was a little girl. I don't particularly like them, but I'm feeling nostalgic, so I manifest a mint and pop it into my mouth.
“Thanks for that, Ray,” Nicholas says, sounding genuinely pleased to receive his mints. “Hey... how have you been holding up lately?”
“Oh, I'm alright,” Ray says. “My back's been aching something awful, but other than that, I'm doin' okay.”
“Have your grandkids been around to see you lately?” Nicholas asks.
“No... no, I haven't seen Matthew and Chris for quite some time, if I'm being honest.”
Ray's answer makes me pout. If I was his spirit guide, I'd probably visit Matthew and Chris and encourage them to visit. For as long as I've known him, Ray's been a lonely, old man. He's almost as lonely as Nicholas.
“Thanks for what you did with the grass, son. It looks good,” Ray says.
“No problem.” Facing one of the wild bushes, Nicholas asks, “You know, if you ever want me to trim some of these, let me know.”
Aha! I got through to him after all! As a spirit, it's hard to get a human to hear you, and to listen. Every time they take your advice, it feels like a success.
“Oh, that's alright. I wouldn't want to put you out more than I already do,” says Ray.
“You wouldn't be putting me out. I got a new hedge trimmer about a month ago. I might as well put it to use.”
“Well, I'll think about it.” Ray grimaces as he bends down to pat the younger man's shoulder. I think his back really is in a lot of pain. If I was an angel, I could take some of his pain away. Alas, I'm just a lowly spirit guide... which makes me wonder, was Johnny Wong from the cafe really an angel? I don't know why I'm still thinking about him, but he didn't seem much like an angel to me, even a fallen one.
“Thanks for these peppermints, Ray. They're real good,” Nicholas says.
“Oh, they're alright.” Ray chuckles at his neighbor's gratitude. “Next time, I'll have something better for you.”
The men part silently. They don't shake hands or hug, they just nod at each other and go their separate ways. Now that he's sober, Nicholas pops into his thirty-year-old Volvo. I slide into the backseat, unaware of his intentions. It's rare for him to go anywhere, and even rarer for him to go anywhere without a flask in his pocket. Any day without vodka is a good day, I think.
He turns on the radio, finds a classic rock station, and bops his head to Led Zeppelin. He seems to be in a good mood, and it must be infectious, because I start bopping my head with him. Black Dog is pretty catchy, but it's not the music of my era. The songs from my era were... sweeter, somehow.
When Nicholas makes a turn down a narrow, lonely road, I know exactly where he's going. He's heading to the cemetery, to visit his wife's grave. Katya died over five years ago, but I know he still carries a lot of trauma from that. He visits her every now and then, maybe once a month, and sits near her headstone. Today is no different. He parks his car, locates the grave, and sits over the remains of his lost love.
His eyes are red, and his lips are quivering, but he doesn't cry. I put a hand on his shoulder, wishing I could give him some of my strength. An angel could do that. Once again, I wish I was an angel.
I wish I could say Katya still loves Nicholas, but... I don't know. She used to visit him, but her visits have become less and less frequent as time goes on. Her death ruined Nicholas, but I'm not sure Katya feels the same way. I would never want him to know that. If he knew his wife moved on in the afterlife, I'm pretty sure that knowledge would kill him.
Nicholas sighs several times. He touches his wife's headstone, tracing her name with his finger. He closes his eyes and drags a hand through the nearby grass. I'm not the only ghost in the cemetery, and some of them are staring at us. There are always spirits in a cemetery, for obvious reasons. I think many are drawn to their remains. Personally, I feel no attachment to my earthly body, but I understand why other spirits might come here to lament.
“You're stronger now, Nicholas,” I tell my charge. “I see you getting stronger and stronger every day.”
A tear drops from his eye when I say that. To me, tears are another kind of strength. It's stronger to show emotion than to bury it. Showing emotion makes you more vulnerable.
We stay in the cemetery for nearly an hour. I close my eyes and listen to the rustle of trees as wind bends their boughs. I've always loved nature. As a spirit, I love it even more. Most spirits go “Home,” or to heaven, but I enjoy spending time with Nicholas on Earth. The planet's simple beauty is often overlooked.
“I love you, Katya,” Nicholas suddenly whispers. “Damn, I wish I would have died before you did.”
He'll see her again. Sometimes, I wish the humans knew that. Our life after death—it shouldn't be a secret. Every part of us lives on. Our heart, our spirits, our emotions, our dreams. I'm the same person now as I've ever been.
Nicholas leaves his wife's grave and returns to his car. Before I'm drowned out by his music, I suggest, “Hey, why don't you go back to Harry's Diner? You might even see Wanda today... you never know.”
Nicholas takes my suggestion, and I'm proud of myself for that. He's been heeding my advice more than usual. The humans might not hear us, but I think they can feel us. We can plant ideas in their heads.
Nicholas drives to the diner, but unfortunately, Wanda is absent again. He's served by a teenage waitress with pigtails and a wad of chewing gum. We know most of the workers here, but her face is a new one. Her name tag says she's Becky.
While Nicholas browses the menu, a familiar voice says, “Hey... we meet again.”
Once again, it's Johnny Wong. Harry's Diner must be his favorite haunt, pun intended... because we're literally ghosts.
“Johnny,” I utter his name without turning to face him. “You're here again, I see.”
“I am! And so are you. That's a pleasant surprise,” he says. “Do you always look this pretty?”
I look down at my pink dress and shrug. In this era, it might be called vintage. My reddish blonde hair is in a ponytail, and my lips are cherry red. I try to look decent, but I'm definitely not doing it for Johnny Wong.
“Hey... come talk to me,” Johnny begs. “I promise I'll behave myself.”
With a roll of my eyes, I rise from the booth and march to Johnny's table. I'm going to indulge him today... because why not?
“So, you're Lillie,” he says. “It's nice to meet you, Lillie... and I mean that. I'm not just bullshitting you. I don't get to meet many spirits. Life as an Earth angel can be kind of isolating.”
“Are you really an angel?” I ask with a shake of my head. With his leather coat and tattooed hands, he looks more like a Hell's Angel.
“I'm really an angel,” Johnny insists, then he manifests a milkshake. I could manifest too, but I don't feel like eating. When you're a spirit, food is entirely optional.
“You're a fallen angel, but you claim you weren't kicked out of heaven,” I reiterate what I already know about him. “Why leave?”
“Because it's a lot of work. I didn't want to be a spirit guide anymore. To be honest, I don't like people that much,” Johnny says. “I've never liked people. Humans are trash.”
“Do you think I'm trash?” I ask.
“No, you're a spirit,” says Johnny, between sips of his milkshake. “You're a very, very, very pretty spirit girl.”
“Every spirit was a human once,” I remind him. “If you don't like humans, you probably shouldn't like me.”
“Well, maybe you'll be the exception,” Johnny says. “To be honest, I just... well, people disappoint me a lot. My whole life, I've been disappointed. My dad ran away when I was six. I don't even remember him. My dad was Chinese, my mom was Russian. All my life, I got teased by people. To my white friends, I was the Asian guy. To my Asian friends, I was the white guy. I feel like I've always been an outcast, so... being an Earth angel suits me.”
I didn't necessarily want to hear the entire life story of Johnny Wong, but I nod along as he speaks. I tell him, “I think everyone had a difficult life, in one way or another.”
“Maybe. I dunno. It just feels like my life was more difficult than most.”
I hitch a shoulder, but I don't protest. I don't know enough about his situation to agree or disagree. I know my life was hard, though. I never married, never had children, and never had much of a family. My parents died when I was young. My best friend—my sister—chose reincarnation over staying with me. I'm alone, truly alone. I think of Nicholas as a friend, but he might be the only friend I have.
“So... tell me something about yourself, Lillie,” Johnny requests.
“I'd rather not.”
He leans back, crosses his arms, and reveals with a smirk, “Well, that's too bad, because I've already read your mind.”
For that, I spend the next few seconds glaring at him. Angels can read minds, but it's such an invasion of privacy! If he's telling the truth, I really don't appreciate that.
Johnny leans forward, planting his elbows on the table. He asks, “So... you really never got married?”
“No.” I glance back at Nicholas, who's ordering dinner from the waitress. I should be sitting with him, not Johnny.
“Why would you never get married?” he asks.
“I guess I just never wanted to. Is that really so shocking?”
“Or maybe... maybe the right guy never came along?” Pointing at his face, he says, “Maybe you were waiting for Johnny Wong?”
“Johnny Wong is coming on a bit too strong, if I'm being honest,” I caution him. “I don't mind the attention, but... could you try to be a gentleman?”
“Fallen angels aren't really gentlemen, though. We're like... broken angels,” he says. “For you, though, I can try to be a good boy.”
“Pfft. Yeah. I doubt it.”
We stare at each other for the better half of a minute. Johnny is handsome, I admit, but I don't know if I want his attention. I'm dedicated to my job, and to Nicholas. Nothing else matters to me.
“Would you go out with me sometime?” Johnny asks.
“I... don't know.”
“Maybe we could do a mission together?” he persistently suggests. “I can help you get something for your boy. What's his name?”
“Nicholas.”
“Yeah, Nicholas.” We turn our attention to Nicholas, who receives a massive spaghetti meal from the teenage waitress. His eyes light up at the sight of it.
“If you've been a permanent spirit guide for a long time, I bet you miss having a partner,” Johnny says. “I could be your partner... temporarily. It would give me something to do.”
“I suppose I wouldn't be entirely against the idea.” With a roll of my eyes, I scribble Nicholas' address on a napkin and slide it across the table, toward the flirtatious fallen angel. “If you really feel like it, you can find us here.”
“If I'm getting your address, I must really be making some progress,” says Johnny.
“It's not my address, it's Nicholas' address,” I correct him. “Still, I'm there a lot, so... I guess it's like a second home to me.”
“You really are beautiful, you know,” Johnny says. “I want to get to know you better.”
“And you're really annoying,” I fire back at him. “Still, I... I guess I wouldn't mind making a new friend. If you come to that address, we can work together on something. Why not?”