Angel Vision

Angel Vision

Zephyr Carlyle

Alex’s eyes were closing as he tried to read the familiar text. His eyes popped open up when he heard the abrupt clang and screech from the overhead loudspeaker. He looked up but could not find the source of the metallic, scratchy voice: “Boarding for flight 856 to Denver has been delayed for just a few minutes. Please stay seated at the departure gate until your boarding number is called.”  Alex took his hand and stroked his salt and pepper beard and centered the wooden cross around his neck. Alex continued reading from the ancient texts as his head began to nod:

The Messenger of Light Creates 

the Way of Salvation

I set up a throne for the Lord of the radiant beings

and erected a light before it.

Praise the strength of the man,

who healed the water through the fire.

Praise the strength of the man,

against whom the fire sinned not.

Alex’s eyes closed as the book slipped from his fingers. Alex pulled the rough wool of his clerical robe tight  around him, as if his cloak was a blanket. He reached his hand up and puffed forward the stiff round hat of the Greek Orthodox. Alex throttled the hat forward to cover his eyes and block out the airport’s fluorescent lighting. Alex rocked a bit in the plastic resin chair of the terminal gate seat as he had been waiting over an hour for his plane to Denver. He fell asleep. Instead of total blackness, a golden shadow swirled up from the spreading inkyness. The golden glow coalesced into a cherubic form. The emerging angel imploded back to its native nothingness when Alex was abruptly bumped by other passengers. He opened his eyes and observed the other passengers who scurried past the drowsy monk, all stampeding their way to the boarding gate. 

Alex’s eyes closed for a few seconds but popped open when the loudspeaker cackled: “Last call for passengers on Flight 856 to Denver. Alex looked up and saw the last remaining person who was walking briskly up the long walkway towards the boarding gate. The elderly gentleman in a fancy gray suit and fedora used a walking stick to saunter past Alex. The man struck the stick on the ground with every step like a drum major keeping beat. Every time the stick struck the ground, crackling sparks flew out of the top, as if the cane held fireworks. With every stroke, more and more sparks flew out until the tip itself glowed red. The next dramatic thwack from the stick caused a small flame darted out of the red tip; and then another flame with each continuing jolt, and finally the tip burst forth in full flame. As the man passed by,  Alex never took his eyes off the flaming torch as he arose from his seat to follow.

At the same time, at a palatial home in Denver, the taxi drove up the curved driveway. The taxi circled the gurgling statue in the center of a garden roundabout. Basil told the driver, “Honk the horn, let ‘em know that we’re here.” 

“Sure,” comes the reply as the driver tapped the horn several times.

“No, lean on it.” The driver shrugged his shoulder and leaned into the steering wheel until the endless blaring horn left the nearby statues stone deaf all over again.

“Ah nice,” said Basil as he stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver. Looking up at the mansion, Basil took in the fake Corinthian columns and the expansive carvings on the facade of his childhood home. Basil muttered, “Some things never change”

The front door flung open and out came a scrum of women, lead by matriarch, Basil’s mother Adriana, and closely followed by a bevy of aunts and cousins. 

Mother was half-walking, half-running while yelling, “Hallo, hallo, my baby! We are so glad you are here, kamari mou, (my pride), my baby.” She came up and gave Basil a hug and he was surrounded by all the aunts and cousin who hugged and kissed his cheek in turn. 

Basil replied, “I am fine, but I wanted to tell you …

As he was talking, Mother peered around to see behind Basil. A frown broke across her face as she asked, “Where is your brother?”

Basil sighed, “We did not meet up this time. He is coming from New York on a separate flight”

Mother, “I was hoping that you would fly from Boston to New York and bring him with you. Now I have to count on the good priests of St. Irene’s of Astoria to grant Alexander leave to come home for a few days as they promised.”

“He will be here, you can count on it. Surely, the monastery can do without Alex for a few days, but you cannot.”

Mother retorted, “While we cannot. ” Alex sighed as Mother continued,  “Come on in, come on in. Why are we standing out here? I need to check on the pit and spit. You are going to like our special dinner tonight…”

Basil interrupted, “Mother you know that I became a vegetarian. We had this discussion last year.” 

“I know, I know. You did not like the prime rib from last time and you even refused a hamburger. No worries. We are not going to serve as much as a meatball today. We put a lamb on the spit — no problem.”

Mother and the aunts all pivoted to the rear and high tailed it back into the house passing the massive door with the angel carvings on the transom to sail through the expansive entrance to the marble grand lobby within.

The plane flight was otherwise uneventful. Alex arrived about an hour later. He grabbed his  bag and got out of his taxi. Alex marveled at the statue in the water fountain at the center of the driveway.  The years had not been kind to Aphrodite as there was grime in the folds of her garments and the accumulated soot on her facial curves contrasted with the marble cheeks. As Alex turned to pay the taxi driver, he caught, out of a corner of his eye, a glimpse of the glow coming from Aphrodite’s shoulder. The yellow glow coalesced into the full form of an angel with a beautific face. Alex stopped and wheeled around to face Aphrodite head on. There was nothing to see except the aged gray statue and the pulsating water. The taxi driver was now looking at the back of Alex’s head, “What’s up, guy? You okay?”

Once inside the mansion, Alex sees Basil engaged in an animated conversation with cousin Dmitri.  Alex drops his suitcase to run to his brother. “Basil, how great it is to see you” giving Basil a brotherly hug. Basil returned the greeting and the brothers exchanged pleasantries and promised to catch up more in a few minutes. 

Basil turns back to Dmitri, “You know that only a fiscal conservative government can do what is needed. We can’t  spend money that we do not have. And immigration is the classic example of government spending us to bankruptcy. Why for Hellas sakes are we coddling and caring for millions of people who come to our country for the free money? Don’t even get me started on all the women who sneak over the border who have a kid on the US side. I just read about a travel company that specializes in a tourist package called, ‘The New Mother Tourist Bounce’  An expectant mother comes to the US; bounces the baby on US soil as it comes out of the womb; collects the US birth certificate; and flies home. ”

Dmitri demurred, “Forget about it. The total number of tourist babies are few and this should be regulated out of existence. Look at the big picture. You know that we are a nation of immigrants. These newcomers have always provided the first rung of the economic ladder and they work their way up by their own grit and determination. Look at our people.” Pointing to the picture on the wall of a benevolent patriarch beaming down on them, “Your father, and my father, came to this country as two brothers who had nothing. And here we are 20 years after your father’s untimely death, he is still providing for his family; and heck, for our family, too.”

Basil replied, “But we worked, my father worked and your father worked, too — unlike the lazy bastards coming in now. And don’t remind me of the anniversary”

“But that’s what we’re all here for, the 20th anniversary of the death of Nicholas, your father. The anniversary of his death has become our family reunion. It’s ironic that the only time we get together is for reunions and funerals — and today we have both. You and Alex are the only young ones in the family. Now if you would help out and get married, we would have another reason to get together. But no and….”

 

Basil finished swiveling around as he looked at the relatives. He cut off Dmitri’s words and blurted, “I guess you’re right. Alex and I are the youngest in the room.”

“…. and your brother is a hopeless cause — a man of the cloth.” Dmitri sneered with curled lips.

“At least he is pious.”

Dmitri mocked back, “And at least he is a pious bastard.”

Basil sighed. “Never mind about us getting married. But this reunion on the anniversary of Father’s death is a never-ending funeral. Yes, my father died at age 54,” Basil points to his brother. Alex is moving his upright hand into the lines of the cross in front of his young niece while reciting some ancient prayer. Basil continued, “Alex and I turned 54 on our birthday earlier this year. I think of what our father accomplished and I am now his age.” Shaking his head, “I have a long way to go.”

“Yes, that’s right, but we all have a long way to go compared to your father. By the way, how is the new business venture going?”

“Give it time. The rocky part is behind us. I have enough angel investors backing me that we should be able to put our finished game board out on the market by the beginning of next year, no problem.”

Dmitri chuckled, “You have angels as investors?”

Basil blurted out, “Sorry!” He continued talking through his laughter, “They are called angel investors because they save unproven, start-up companies with seed money when more mainstream banks and trust funds wouldn’t touch these new enterprises.”

“So angels rush in where fools fear to tread?”

“If you are calling private equity funds and holding companies fools, then sure. But remember, money is the lubricant of life”

“Oh yeah, I remember your philosophy. Money is the beginning and end of all existence. As long as you get yours, the world is good. You know, our family came to this country fifty years ago from the land of Plato and Aristotle. None of that has rubbed off on you.”

“Plato never had to meet a payroll or defend his software patent”

“Touché”

“But let me be honest, Dmitri. You work as a mid-manager for Coca Cola, certainly a respected company. You have a good life and are looking forward to your retirement at some point in the distant future. Nothing personal, but you are a wage slave, just like the good old days But now, your owner is your boss. You toil in the fields these many years just like the peasant serf ancestors, except that your hands have no dirt under the fingernails. My father broke that mold and look at what he left us. I plan to be like father and find my own success.” 

“You know, when I look at you, sometimes I confuse you for Alex. Patting the side of Basil’s beard playfully, “You even have the same beard of the Patriarch. But then you open your mouth and I definitely know it is you. Your brother talks about love. You talk about nasty. How do you two even share parents? Sometimes, I worry about you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Basil shook his head and pointed to Alex who had left the niece and was now pontificating to rapturous relatives in the corner of the room.   Leaning into Dmitri, Basil speaks in a pretend whisper, ”I’d worry about Alex if I were you. Ol’ Alex over there sees angels.”

“Say what?”

“Oh yeah, Alex tells me that angels visit him. And he has had conversations with them. Who knows what kind of a deal Alex has cut with them.” 

Dmiti waved his hand, “Well, at least all you owe your angels in their investment money.” They both laughed. 

Mother walked up to Basil and Dmitri to announce, “Dinner is served. Just to let you know we have delicious spanakopita, green bean casserole, and baladí salad. The main course is souvlaki or beef ribs.” Smiling at Basil, she continued, “Oh, of course, we have roast lamb for those who refuse to eat beef.” The pair join the others heading to the main dining room.  

Alex is seated next to Basil. Alex swiveled in his chair to look behind him and grab his clerical cap. Alex saw the ponderous table, but the hat was no longer a solid object resting on it. The hat glowed and shifted in shape. He saw the hat as waves, floating and undulating. The once solid hat had shifted to a flow, to a vibrational pattern — with a blue glow, dim almost imperceptible, but clearly present. 

Basil barked at this brother, “Alex. What’s the matter?”

Alex snapped to and the undulating colloid material became his hat again. “Nothing. I was just thinking about, umm about…”

“Thinking about what?”

Alex swallowed, “I don’t know. Thinking about the bright darkness that is within us, how we are the product of the union of God’s love in the material universal.The world is not material, it is spiritual.”

“I don’t get it. Ever since you took up with the church, you talk like that. I remember when we were college roommates at Hellenic American University. We chased women, drank beer, and went to the same frat parties. Whatever happened to the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, let the good times roll? Everything was fine but then you had to go on that week-long retreat with Father Symeon. You have never been the same since.” 

“You should have gone with me on that retreat.”

“No thank you. I want to stay on this side of the reality line.’

“I live in a full reality, just as you do. But your reality is not complete. You should be spending more time talking to the angels, They are real, too”

“Trust me, I talk to my angels!” Basil retorted with a triumphant laugh. “I have a meeting with them tomorrow.”

“This is good. Tell me more about it.” 

“I will tell you later. Let’s enjoy our meal now. Please pass the moussaka”

At the end of the family gathering, Alex recited the final benediction over the assembled participants, and said his goodbyes to one and all. The trip to the airport was uneventful. Once all the passengers were seated on the plane, the stewardesses demonstrated everything from how to fasten the seat belt and how to manually inflate the life preserver vests. Alex’s eyes glazed over at the garbled monotone of the safety instruction. As the plane taxied down the runway, Alex silently intoned the Traveler’s Prayer: “O Master, my companion, guide, and guardian during my journey; deliver and protect me from all danger, misfortune, and temptation, that being so defended by Thy divine power I may have a peaceful and successful journey and arrive safely at my destination.” The plane tilted up and Alex was pressed back in his seat as his line of sight went cloudy. Alex’s vision was filled with a black haze. As the haze dissipated, the clear outline of an angel became visible, the same angel that appeared on the fountain. As Alex closed his eyes, he mused rather loudly, “Ah, another visit. Bless you Father.” Alex’s eyes closed and he nodded off. The guy sitting next to Alex gave him a sideways, squint-eyed stare while trying not to look directly at Alex.

As the plane nosed upward, Alex saw others joining Michael, angels all. A weary flight attendant squawked over the loudspeaker, “Please remain seated until the seat belt sign is turned off.”

The growing chorus of angels duplicated themselves at their end points. The duplicate pairs of angels pivoted forward and back, connecting and reconnecting at their pivot points. Each angel started to pirouette in place and the spinning angels swirled around each other. Behind the angels was a golden background, glowing ever brighter over time.  

“Beverage service will begin as soon as we reach our cruising altitude of 32,000 feet.”

For a few minutes, the angels began to sway back and forth in unison while still pivoting and swirling off their counterpoints like dance partners. 

“The captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign. You are free to move about the cabin.”

The glow of the golden light behind the dancing angels became so bright that the light began to shimmer.  Alex intoned, “Enoch walked with God and was not.” The guy in the next seat pulled away from Alex ever so slightly. Alex paid no attention as his eyes were still closed. He was focused on the glow that shifted from a solid metallic gold to pure platinum brilliance, like sunlight seen through diamonds. The shimmering brightness flooded the view with increased intensity, while the angels faded from view. All became a searing white glow.

Upon landing at LaGuardia Airport, Alex was rolled off the plane on a stretcher. The airport security and medical team borrowed a passing Catholic priest to say the last words over Alex on his way to the coroner’s office. 

On his return flight to Chicago, Basil gave no thought to the family reunion. He worried about meeting with his investors the next day. He would have to meet with them around a table to pour over the balance sheets, account aggregate forms, and hear reports from the chief software and hardware engineers. He clenched his teeth at the thought of the angel investors backing out of the next round of funding. Alex thought to himself that this flow of investor money was the well spring that gave life to our new enterprise. If they turned off the spigot, these reluctant investors could end our business before he even got the video game out to market. 

As Basil’s thoughts became transformed into clenched teeth; other, more microscopic clenching was also happening. The small blood berry hanging off the cranial artery was growing tense. The slow drip, drip, drip of blood fed this berry shaped clot deep in Basil’s brain. The exterior membrane of the red bulb was filled to capacity. Basil knows nothing of this as his teeth slam together on his tongue and the plane hit turbulence. Slowly at first but with growing insistence, the plane bounced and gyrated to the clatter of silverware and clink of glasses. The membrane shifted as it expanded and throbbed in beat with the passing arterial pressure. 

The loudspeaker crackled with the pilot’s voice: “All passengers please return to your seats and put on your safety belts. We are in for a ride!” The passengers were all abuzz with excited side conversations. Within seconds, the loudspeaker hum is heard again followed by the captain’s voice: “Hold on tight. We are going to be just fine. This is normal folks. No need to be concerned as long as you have your seat belt on. Sorry for any concern I caused.” The plane bounced up and down, slowly at first, but with an increasing cadence. People squeezed themselves tight into their seats and grabbed the armrests while involuntarily bobbling their heads as if the beat of a silent rock song. 

Basil grabbed his briefcase from under the seat and whipped it open. He fumbled and pushed around the stuff inside, until he grabbed a bottle of inderal — a brand name of a medicine that contains propranolol, a beta blocker, used to reduce high blood pressure. Popping off the lid, Basil held the bottle in one hand and tried to shake just one pill into his other hand. The shaking of the plane caused a whole bunch of pills to tumble into his palm. Basil put the handful up to his lips. He puts his lips and teeth around one pill. The plane bucked like a bronco. Basil’s hand and mouth bounced in unison, first flexing up, then bouncing down. The gyration threw a bunch of pills into Basil’s mouth, and half-way down his throat. He reflexively swallowed and tried to cough the pills up, but all the pills went down instead. 

As soon as all the commotion started, Basil’s brain sent an urgent signal to his kidneys. The signal kicked into action the adrenal medulla floating on top of the kidneys. The adrenal medulla flooded the body with the hormone adrenaline. The adrenaline sent a screaming message to also release the hormone cortisol.  Within seconds, these two fight-or-flight chemicals flooded Basil’s arteries and coursed through his body. In response, the blood pressure quickened. The increased pressure in the cranial arteries caused a small tear, an initial rupture, to begin in the blood clot. This tear would create one fine crack in the clot’s membrane and also jump to rupture other parts of the clot. Together, these initial micro cracks would create several cascading sheets of rupture. This fractured red bulb would burst. The blood would ooze out and stain the surrounding gray areas of Basil’s brain: thereby causing a short circuit that is a brain numbing stroke, or worse. 

Over the next few minutes, the pounding, pounding, pounding pressure built up.  The first tiny fissure began to erupt, just as the first wave of what would become the propranolol tsunami arrived from the handful of swallowed pills. Every arterial beat brought more waves of propranolol. The propranolol reversed the effects of the adrenaline and cortisol. The heart stopped pounding incessantly.  The arterial pumping decreased enough that the pressure in cranial arteries returned to normal. This regular blood flow passed by the clot and left it undisturbed. The tension was gone; red berry relaxed. The microscopic fissures stopped and the threatened clot membrane cracks never emerged. With the increasing waves of propranolol, the diminishing arterial pressure closed off the depleted blood clot altogether. 

The plane stopped jumping around just as abruptly as the gyrations started. Everyone looked around waiting for the wobbling to start again. Passengers started to smile as the plane held steady. Cheering erupted as calm was maintained.  As Basil’s stress levels subsided, his eyes closed. He fell into a deep sleep. 

The plane landed and the passengers stood by their seats, still talking animatedly about their safe arrival. Some craned their necks from side to side and moved their shoulders to work out any last minute tension. Everyone descended from the plane, picked up their luggage from the carousel, and headed out the door. In the waiting area, a few people ran up to hug returning loved ones; a few kisses were exchanged. Other passengers scanned the name signs held up by the shuttle drivers looking in vain for their own name. Basil brushed past all of them and wheeled his luggage out to the self-serve parking lot. He threw the luggage into the back of the BMW and rolled the car home to his condo in the Back Bay neighborhood. Basil entered his home and rolled the suitcase past the kitchen. He got a whiff of decaying mushrooms. He stopped and let go of the suitcase. Basil marched into the kitchen. He noticed that the refrigerator door was open a few inches, and the light was still on. The refrigerator was warm and there was no subliminal whirl of the fridge motor. A pungent odor wafted out of the open door. He closed the fridge door and opened it. The fridge gave off no new hum from the motor starting, but did belch out more rancid fumes. Basil exclaimed, “Christ!” He swore in Greek: μου έπρηξε τ’αρχίδια (“This has made my balls swollen”).” Continuing in English, “This is just the worst! Now I have to get a new refrigerator!”