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I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M starting my fifth and final mission with Mikayla Frost. If I could, I would take her on a thousand more, and never tire of her company. I don't think I've ever been around someone whose disposition is constantly pleasant. I like her. I'd make her my girlfriend in an instant, but I keep warning myself against getting too attached. If we complete our mission today—and I'm confident that we will—she'll have to make “the choice.” She'll either continue her spirit guide work in the afterlife, or she'll go back to her grandfather and continue her old life. I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if she decided to return to Grandpa James. I care about her so much, I wouldn't even be disappointed. I would always want Mikayla to choose what makes her happiest.
She looks beautiful today, as usual. Her fringe is pulled back with a headband, and her jumper complements her eyes. I would do anything for this girl. Anything. It's been a long time since I've felt so smitten and protective.
“Good day, Mikayla,” I dip into a bow as I greet her. “Are you ready to head out?”
“Yeah.” Her answer, short and despondent, makes me wonder if she feels the same way as me. Finishing our last mission will be a bittersweet dagger to the heart.
When I drop into our charge's house, he's moving from the kitchen to his bedroom. He's a rather young man, shirtless and slender, with bleached blonde hair and a joint in his mouth. There's a pot of canned noodles on the stove, and they're on the verge of boiling.
“He looks like a stoner,” Mikayla says.
I almost give her a lecture about not judging our charges, but I don't disagree with her. She's not passing judgment, she's merely stating a fact. On further observation, I don't think cannabis is the only substance in his system. He looks way too out of it.
I recite from my LightTab, “Our charge is twenty-six year old Robert Godfrey. He is currently unemployed and living with his father.”
“Okay,” Mikayla says—and that's all she says. She's so taciturn, I'm starting to wonder if I've done something to upset her.
“I doubt we'll have much success at reading his thoughts,” I tell her. “Certain substances... and there are several in his system... can block our attempts.”
“That stinks,” Mikayla says. “I really need to practice the mind reading stuff.”
“And you'll have a chance to practice, as soon as he's sobered up a bit.”
I try to hear his thoughts, despite my reservations. I can hear a bit, but none of it is relevant to our mission. Mostly, he's thinking about the video game he's playing.
Mikayla checks her LightTab and shares a few more facts about Robert. “It looks like his girlfriend broke up with him three weeks ago. For awhile, he tried to get her back... then he realized she had been cheating on him with another guy, three months before they broke up. Ouch. That's got to hurt.”
Robert's cat tries to leap into his lap while he's playing his game. He mumbles, “Not now, Puss Puss,” and pushes her away.
Mikayla continues, “It sounds like Robert and Jenelle... that's his ex-girlfriend... had a pretty toxic relationship. He used to scream a lot and insisted on checking her texts. She called him a freeloader and made fun of him for living with his dad.”
Mikayla sounds like such a professional right now. It makes me proud of her.
“If you'd like, you can try to read his thoughts,” I suggest. “Until we hear something of value, we have no way of starting our mission.”
When Robert abandons his video game controller in favor of looking at porn, I gently push my student from the room. I never linger when one of my charges is in a randy mood.
“He was looking at porn, wasn't he?” Mikayla asks. “I barely got a glimpse of his computer, but I'm pretty sure that was a—”
I quickly change the subject. “What would you like to do, Mikey? Our hands are tied until his mind is clear. Should we return Home for awhile, or—”
Mikayla gets revenge—this time, she changes the subject. “Hey... do you smell smoke?”
I shrug, thinking nothing of it. “Well, he was smoking.”
“No, this is different.” Mikayla grabs my hand and pulls me through the house. “This isn't weed, this is fire.”
To my amazement, Mikey isn't wrong. Robert, having forgotten about his noodles, started a fire in his kitchen. There was a napkin too close to a burner. It was consumed by flames, and now the fire's in danger of spreading.
“What do we do?” Mikayla shrieks. “Should we go back to Robert, get him to stop watching porn, and get his ass in here?”
Drawing my sword, I reply, “First, we stay calm.”
“Calm? How? There is a fire, Sandalphon. It is getting big.”
This is one day I'm happy to have a water blade. I bring it forward, dousing the fire in a single swing. Mikayla gasps as the flames die with a hiss.
“No way, Sandalphon! You just averted a major crisis.”
“Barely,” I reply. “Had the fire gotten any bigger, I doubt I could have stopped it on my own.”
“That was... kind of sexy,” Mikayla blurts. “It's not wrong to tell an Archangel he was sexy, is it?”
I swear, I can never predict what's going to pop out of her mouth. It seems my shy student has gotten a bit more bold.
“Hardly,” I reply. “I welcome any and all compliments.” When I glance in her direction, my lips are grinning, and her face is red.
Our flirtation comes to an abrupt end when Robert's father returns. This reminds me of a mission I had about a month ago, when a man with Alzheimer's started a fire in his microwave. I contained it for him, but there was evidence of char, and his daughter discovered it. Robert's father is clearly going to realize something was amiss.
First, he discovers the pot of noodles, still boiling on the stove. Then he sees the black remains of a napkin, and with fury in his eyes, he screams, “Robert!”
Robert tries to ignore his fuming pater, but the man demands to be heard. He stomps through the hallway, growling his son's name.
I check the father's name, as I don't think I've read it yet.
Arthur. The father's name is Arthur Godfrey.
“Get out here, dumbass!” Arthur rages. “You need to see what you just did!”
The father crashes into his son's room with so much force, the door swings open and smacks the wall behind it. Robert closes his laptop, sits up, and tries to fake sobriety.
Arthur screams, “Have you been smoking again?”
“No.”
“Then what is that?” He points at the joint in Robert's hand. “You started a fire, shithead! What else have you been using?”
“Nothing.” As he mutters his lie, Robert shoves a suspicious needle into a suspicious drawer.
“I'm getting tired of this,” Arthur says. “It's always something with you. I've given you more than enough chances!”
Arthur finds a duffel bag in the corner of the room and dumps its contents. Then he throws the empty bag on Robert's bed and starts stuffing it with his son's clothes.
“Dad, what are you doing?” Robert sits up, but his eyes are heavy, and his voice is slurry. I suspect he can barely comprehend what's going on. “Dad?”
“I'm packing your bag,” Arthur says. “I'm packing your bag and getting you out of this house before you kill your little sister. You're a bad influence on Sara, and I don't want to see her corrupted by you.”
Robert leans back on his elbows and grins, as if he's not taking this seriously. “Sara's sixteen. She's old enough to corrupt herself.”
The father shouts, “Do not say that! She's a good girl... which is amazing, considering the fact that she had you as an influence!”
Arthur grabs a fistful of his son's underwear and stuffs it into the bag. As we watch the scene unfold, Mikayla asks, “Umm... is there something we should be doing right now?”
“No.” My reply is solemn and serious. “This might be a lesson that Robert needs to learn.”
“Still...” Mikayla protests, “to get thrown out of your own house? That's a pretty harsh punishment. It seems like we should try to stop this.”
The duffel bag is stuffed, zipped, and tossed at Robert. The father roars, “I'll give you three minutes to gather your shit, then I want you out of this house!”
“Dad... you're a dickhead,” Robert says. “Keep acting like this, and maybe I'll want to leave. And maybe you'll never see me again.”
Turning his back to Robert, Arthur says, “You know what? At this point, I wouldn't care. I don't want you living in my basement when you're thirty.”
Mikayla's brow pinches as she watches the drama. She looks worried, and I don't blame her. No matter how many domestic disputes you've witnessed, it never gets easier.
Robert hurls a few more insults at his father as he gathers his toothbrush and a tube of paste. He grabs a few rolled bills from a Pringles can, stuffs them in his pocket, and storms from the house. A bit unsteadily, he charges to the end of the block and sits at a bus stop, arms crossed.
Mikayla and I don't have an official mission yet, but now that our charge has been kicked out of his house, it's not hard to guess what our next task might be.
I whisper to Mikayla, “We need to find him a place to stay.”