Jake
When people talk about life, or time, or spirit, they often use the metaphor of sand—of countless grains, trickling through an hourglass, for example. From my perspective, they have it all wrong. Sand is solid and weighty. Small though they are, there’s a clearly defined shape to each and every grain. What I’m experiencing now is not like that. It’s amorphous, tenuous, vague; more like fog than sand, more like smoke than either.
But then, what do I know? I don’t know where or what or if I am. Maybe I’m nothing now. Maybe I don’t exist at all anymore?
Maybe I’m nothing more than an afterimage. Ineffectual. Unconstrained. I still have my senses—some of them, anyway. Sight and sound. Maybe some vestigial sense of smell. But there’s nothing I can touch or taste or do.
I’m currently—for lack of a better world—hovering in the waiting room, listening in as the doctors assure Tim’s family that the operation went better than they’d hoped, that he’s now expected to make a full recovery. If I had a face, I’d be smiling right now. It still feels like I do, like I am. I suspect it’s going to continue to feel like that for a while.
Connie glances around, then frowns. “Where’s Tony?” she asks the others. “And Jake? They should be here. They should hear this!”
“I haven’t seen Jake in hours; not since he walked out earlier,” Maggie tells her. “Tony was here for a while after that, but then he got a phone call and he left too.”
“He left?” Connie says. And I say it too, but no one can hear me. “What do you mean he left?” she continues. “Left to go where?”
I’m nodding in agreement. Or rather, I’m thinking about how I would be nodding, if I had a head.
“I don’t know,” Maggie says. “He didn’t say. But I assume it was important because he ran out of here like his feet were on fire. All he told me was that he’d call when he knew more.”
I have to admit that my faith is shaken. What could be so important that Tony couldn’t hang around for just a little longer? Couldn’t he have guessed that part of me would still be here, that I’d be frightened and lonely and confused? He had to have known I’d feel like I’d been abandoned again—that I’d feel like he’d abandoned me again—that I’d feel angry and betrayed.
Or maybe not. Haven’t I learned my lesson yet? Haven’t I figured out that not even the best of us can read minds? Will I ever learn?
The hourglass metaphor is feeling a little more apt, at the moment. As I sense the end drawing close, as I feel my energy wane, and my consciousness dim, it is very like sand running down through a funnel. Everything grows foggy and dim. There’s a rustle of movement, and the sense of someone bending close. “Hang in there, sweetheart. Just a little bit longer.” I don’t know what it means, but it sounds comforting.
A hint of a breeze seems to ruffle my hair. A gentle touch brushes my cheek. More words come, whispered softly in my ear—and these make even less sense than the last. “You were never the Marley.”
If I had eyes to roll, I’d be rolling them. If I had a mouth—and the energy to use it I’d be asking what it all means. But I don’t, and anyway, it’s clearly too late.
The angels are gone now, and I’m all alone. Not surprisingly, my mind turns, once more, to thoughts of Tony. I wish he were here with me now. I wish his face could be the last thing I see. And, as darkness closes around me, with the last of my thoughts, I send love and blessings to wherever he is. I love you, Tony. I love you. I love you. I love. I…
“…Love you, Jake.” Tony’s voice pierces through the darkness, filling up the emptiness that surrounds me. “I love you so much. Please wake up. Please come back to me. Please.”
What’s happening? I wonder groggily. My whole body feels heavy and clumsy, achier than I remember—and I can’t remember much. For example, how is Tony here? And, where even is here?
“Tony?” I say—or I guess I just try to say it. My throat is too parched for words to pass through it. My whole mouth feels like I’ve been swallowing sand—an hourglass’ worth, at least. “Is-is that…”
“Yes. It’s me. I’m here. Can you open your eyes, sweetheart?”
I try to comply, but my eyelids feel like they each weigh several pounds and have been glued shut for good measure.
“Wait,” Tony says, stopping me. Then I feel something warm and wet stroking over my face. “Okay. How about now?”
I try again, and this time I succeed…at least I hope I have. It all looks so wonderful. Foggy and out of focus and far too bright, but still…wonderful. Can I trust what I see? Tony’s face, Tony’s smile, Tony’s eyes—red rimmed, sparkling with tears. No. It’s too perfect. How could this possibly be real?
“Okay. Yes. There you are. Thank God. How are you feeling?”
The tears are worrisome; as is the look in his eyes. He’s staring at me with so. Much. Relief. And I’m not entirely sure why that is, or how I feel about it. Confused probably sums it up best. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital.”
“Ahh.” Well, that would explain the random, mechanical beeping sounds and shushing noises that I’ve been ignoring for what feels like forever. But…oh, shit. Did he say hospital? That can’t be good. Especially if…yep. Just as I suspected. A quick look around confirms my fears. I’m the patient? Not Timo? Not Pops? But… “What happened? Where’s Tim? Is your dad, okay? We’re in Texas, right?”
Tony shakes his head. “No. Tim’s in Texas. And-and my dad, as well. But you and I are in Manhattan.”
“I don’t understand.” I try and sit up, but apparently that’s not happening. “Tell me the truth, Tony. I can take it. What’s going on?” Did I fuck things up? Did I let the family down again?
“Okay, well…where do I start? It’s a little complicated. See…”
“No,” I say flailing around a little as I try, again, to rise. “Stop.” I succeed only in dislodging my hand from Tony’s grasp. “Don’t sugar coat it. Tell me. Where is everyone? Your brother, is he…? He’s not…?”
“He’s fine,” Tony promises as he takes back my hand and squeezes it comfortingly. “He’s a little banged up, which hopefully he’ll have learned something from that, but otherwise unharmed. His doctors are astonished. Apparently, he’s made a—” Raising his free hand, he makes air quotes around the next words. “—miraculous recovery.”
“Really?”
Tony’s lips twist into a wry smile. “As you might expect, everyone is delighted with this turn of events. The hospital staff there is doing a really terrible job of hiding their surprise. But, even so, the whole family is one-hundred-percent convinced that his recovery is due entirely to the medical care he received. No one has tumbled to the fact that something unusual occurred to save his life. That’d be you, by the way. Obviously. So, if you’re expecting thanks, you’re gonna have to be satisfied with mine.”
“Me? But no, I’m…”
“Not dead. Yeah. Let’s talk about that, shall we?”
“Wait. What did you say?”
“Wasn’t that what you were going to ask?”
“No? I mean…did you…did you just say…not dead? Not?”
“Very much not.” The grin that breaks over Tony’s face at that is positively heart-stopping. So much so that it oughta be banned in places like this. “Apparently, there’s not even a problem with your hearing. If anything, there might even be an improvement. I only had to say it once. That’s kind of amazing all on its own.”
“Tone…”
“I know. Sorry. All kidding aside, I’m sure it’s a lot to wrap your mind around. Plus, you’ve been in a coma for a little while; so, if you’re feeling disoriented, that’s probably why. But the rumors of your demise were exaggerated.”
“So, I’ve been here the whole time?”
“For a certain value of here, sure. Physically you were.”
“And all the rest…was a dream?”
“Well, no. Not exactly. You were definitely in Texas, too. I think. I mean we all saw you, but… Okay look, I don’t know the how or the why of it, but you’re here now. Back in your body. Alive. And that’s good enough for me. That’s really all I care about.”
“Same. But you were in Texas, weren’t you? That part was real?”
“Yes.” Tony nods. “I was in Texas. Up until the point where I got a very unexpected phone call from your friend Randy.”
“Randy? No. That…that’s not…” I want to say it’s not possible, but who knows what’s possible. At this point, it looks like maybe anything is possible. “Randy. Wow.”
“I’ve been hoping he’d stop by to see how you were doing. I’d really like to thank him for all his help. But no one here seems to know who he is. And when I tried dialing the number he called from, it said it was disconnected.”
“Now that doesn’t surprise me.”
“He seems like an interesting guy.”
“Yeah. He was.”
“It also sounded to me like he cares a great deal about you.”
I nod, feeling a twinge of regret. “He was in love with me, I think.”
“And were you…?”
“No. Not…” Not the way he would have wanted me to be. “We were friends. But, when it came to me loving someone…it was always you, Tony.” I stare at him as hard as I can, trying to convey with my gaze all that I can’t put into words. “I love you.”
Tony nods. “That’s good to hear,” he says sounding…weird.
Excuse me? “Good?” I repeat weakly. “S’that all you got to say?”
“What? No.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Lord above. Have some patience, would you?” He slips out of his chair to go down on one knee, stopping when he realizes how high the bed is. “I love you, too, Jake,” he says as he stands up again, awkwardly grabbing for my hand while simultaneously digging in his pocket. “And I don’t know how many second chances we can expect to get in one lifetime, so let’s not waste this one, okay? Will you marry me—again?”
“Of course, I will,” I say nodding frantically as he slips a ring on my finger. “In a heartbeat.”
Tears are welling up in my eyes, still I don’t miss the slight trembling of his fingers, the softly muttered, “Dude…”
“Too soon?”
“A little bit. Yeah.”
“Sorry. But…could we not do it here?” I feel like I really have to insist on that. “Would that be okay?”
A frown furrows Tony’s brow. He shakes his head a little in confusion. “Here. You mean, in the hospital?”
“No, here in the city. I want to do it right this time. With our family around us— Sorry. Your family, I should have said.”
Tony shakes his head again. Firmer, this time. Not confused. “No.”
“No?”
“No, I mean you had it right the first time. Our family. Definitely.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say as he leans in and kisses me. And that’s the last thing either of us says for quite some time. Which, if you think about it, is only fitting.
Tony
Thank God for Texas weather. Is it any wonder that I love it here? Jake had his heart set on a Christmas wedding. I wanted it to take place outside: among the trees that he and I had planted together; on land my family has called home for generations. And here we are—with both of our wishes fulfilled.
Yesterday was overcast, with precipitation predicted overnight. And I was in serious danger of losing my micromanaging mind. But that was then, and this is now. And today…
The day is perfect—warm and clear. The sky above is as blue as a swimming hole in summer. The air is dry, the pollen is minimal. A light dusting of snow, pristine and white, covers the ground.
The moment is perfect; our family is here, surrounding us with their love, sharing our joy—just like they should have been the first time. Watching proudly, happily—and only a little tearfully—as we pledge our lives and our hearts to one another; as we exchange vows and rings; as we’re pronounced married for the second—and hopefully the last—time in our lives; as we reach for each other, both of us leaning in for that first re-married kiss.
The man in my arms is…well, I’m sure he’d be the first to tell you that he’s far, far from perfect. But, the truth is, he’s perfect for me. Always was. Always will be. And that’s really all that matters.
As the two of us lock lips with each other; both of us trying as hard as we can to keep things PG, for the sake of the kidlets—which, given that Jake is newly released from the hospital and it’s been weeks since we’ve shared a bed, is something of a struggle—I hear the first of the carriages that will carry us (as well as anyone else who might need a little extra help) to the reception pull into place at the end of the walkway.
Jake shudders against me. When he pulls away, I notice that there’s a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. “Do you…hear bells?”
“Yeah.” I gesture toward the alley, where one of the horses is stamping and shaking his head. “Of course. Sleigh bells. See?”
“Right, right.” He breathes out a long, heavy sigh, mumbles quietly, “I forgot about that.”
“You look disappointed. Were you hoping for something else?”
“What? No! No, I’m just…surprised. But you know, now that you mention it, I am a little confused. The barn’s not that far, you know. We could’ve walked it.”
“With you and Tim both just out of the hospital? I don’t think so.”
“Or a UTV.”
“Not. Romantic,” I explain to him, hopefully for the last time. “With a capital N.R.”
Jake smiles. “I suppose you’re right.”
“You’ll get your strength back,” I promise him, as we make our way through the crowd, hand in hand, pausing here and there for hugs and handshakes. “It’ll just take a little time. But sometimes you’ve got to crawl before you walk.”
“I know,” Jake agrees. “Or before you fly.”
“Ohhh, now I get it,” I say as we stop beside the carriage. Instead of climbing into it, I take hold of my husband’s shoulders. Snow crunches beneath our feet as I turn him around, so that he’s facing away from me. Then I run my hands up his back then down again, smoothing over the tuxedo jacket. “Aw, you are disappointed. So sorry, my dude.”
“And you’re feeling up my back,” Jake says, smiling wryly as he turns back to face me. “Not that I’m complaining, exactly; but what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing, at all. I was just checking.”
“For?”
“Well, we both heard the bells, right? But I don’t feel any wings erupting.”
Jake rolls his eyes. “Because stuff like that only happen in movies. And that’s not even the right movie for this story.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And, just for the record? I am not disappointed. I’d choose you over flying any day.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m serious, Tony. You’ve always been the wind beneath my wings—I know that, even if you don’t. So, having you back in my life…well, I might as well have gotten wings because you make me feel like I do.”
“Same,” I whisper. Then I turn to climb into the carriage—quickly, before my eyes start tearing. We have pictures to take, after all; we can’t start blubbering now. “But, also for the record, that’s also not the right movie. I mean, there’s not even an angel in that one.”
Jake opens his mouth to respond, but instead starts sneezing. And sneezing. And sneezing.
After a couple of moments, I have to ask, “Are you okay?”
“No,” Jake croaks between sneezes. “Cedar Fever.”
And that does it for me. I collapse against the upholstered leather seat and laugh until I cry.
“I’m so glad you’re finding this funny,” Jake says when he finally joins me in the sleigh.
The driver spreads a white, faux fur sleigh blanket over our legs. It’s overkill, given the warm temperatures, but I wanted Jake to have the full experience.
“It’s not funny that you’re sneezing,” I explain, once we’re alone again. “And I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just that it finally hit me. Now I know that you’re really back—in the flesh.”
“Damn right, I am,” Jake says and then his eyes begin to tear up, too. He’d probably swear it’s due to allergies or the wind, but I know better. As the carriage begins to move, he takes a deep breath, looks around and says, “How lucky are we that we get to live here?”
“How lucky are we that we get to live?”
“True that,” Jake says as he squeezes my hand.
He had been so happy to relocate here and to work remotely. I don’t think he hesitated for an instant. Which, of course, only makes me wonder how he would have reacted if we’d broached that same subject years earlier. But I guess that’s life. Seems like, no matter what you do, there will always be some things that you wish you could go back and change. “Bless you,” I say as Jake sneezes again.”
“Thanks,” he says, glancing out at the fields once again. He shakes his head and sighs, “God, I love it here!”
“I love you,” I tell him.
Jake shoots me a sideways glance. “That’s what I said.”
“No, you said—”
“You. Life. Home. It’s all the same. It’s everything my heart desires.”
“Damn,” I reply, blinking furiously once again. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know,” Jake says as he leans in close once more. “Do I get to say it now?”
“Say what?” I reply frowning a little in confusion.
“It’s a wonderful life.”
“Oh, you did not,” I say, collapsing in laughter once again. “You did not just say that?”
We’re both laughing as he pins me to the cushions and kisses me senseless. And maybe it is the wrong movie, but it’s definitely the right sentiment. And he’s not wrong to say it. He’s not wrong at all.
High above and far away—or maybe not that far at all—a newly fledged angel watches with interest as the happy couple kiss and then begin to make their way up the makeshift aisle.
His mentor, smiling broadly, wanders over to join him. “I heard bells,” he says, gleefully rubbing his hands together. “Did someone get their wings today?”
“Could be,” the angel replies, gesturing at the scene below. The newly married couple are smiling now as they pause beside their carriage.
His mentor nods. “Ah, a Christmas wedding; good. They’ll be doubly blessed” His eyes widen as one of the young men starts to sneeze and a prolonged chorus of “Bless you, bless you, bless you,” begins. “Very well, then. I stand corrected. They’ll be significantly more than doubly blessed.” He smiles at the angel and says, “The same goes for you too, you know. Since their happiness is due in no small part to your actions, you’ll have a share in their blessings. You did well.”
“Thanks.” The new Christmas angel lets out a deep breath—not that he really needs to breathe now, of course, but he’s young. He still forgets these things. “But I could never have done it alone. I could never have done it at all, actually; not without your help.”
“Well, but that’s what we’re here for isn’t it? And the same might be said for all of us; every one of us needs help sometimes—every one. But now, tell me something else, Turtle: How do you feel?” He says the words expectantly, as though he already knows the answer. And maybe he does.
The jingling of bells can be heard again, echoing across the snowy fields, as the carriage begins to move, rolling slowly across the winter landscape. The angel pauses for one final look back. A small smile flickers across his lips.
He knows that, by all rights, the snow should have entirely melted away by now. Instead, it will last just long enough for the pictures to be taken—call it a wedding gift. Finally, satisfied that he’s done all that he could there, and at long last ready to move on, the angel—Randy—spreads his wings. “How do I feel?” he asks, responding to Gabriel’s question with a smile as bright as sunlight on snow. “Great. I feel great.”
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