Joshua Graham - Terminus

Lito sighed. If Maria was serious about her claimed faith in Jesus, she might have to forgive him. But for that to happen, they’d have to speak again. And with his radical shift from the life Papi had left him, it was only a matter of time before the clock ran out. The Suarez syndicate, the Hernandez branch, and now the power- hungry Guzman lieutenants were up to something.

But what?

He didn’t know. What he did know was that like Atlas, he bore the weight of that world on his weary shoulders.

Before anything else happened, he must tell Maria the truth.

He only prayed he would live long enough to do it.

THE SOUND OF VACUUM CLEANERS and hotel workers speaking in Spanish woke Nick. How long had he been asleep? A quick glance out the window revealed the sky ablaze in a dazzling amber conflagration that stretched across the Pacific. He got up—and marveled. For thousands of years he’d taken such sights for granted. But now he realized how beautiful it was.

Heartbreakingly so.

Quite literally, in fact, because the sharp ache in the center of his chest seemed to have a direct line to his eyes, from which tears were trickling. He’d always wondered why humans wept at moments of beauty—a Brahms symphony, a Shakespeare sonnet, a sky like this one.

It hurt.

In a sublime way.

This was what it was like to be human—to feel the contrast of light and darkness, hate and love, despair and hope. He stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the wall, fully taking in the breathtaking canvas upon which Father had once again painted one of his masterpieces.

The words of the great psalmist came to mind.

The roar of the rushing waves, the gulls floating over the shore, the briny gusts, the thrilling sky…He sighed with pleasure. It was the difference between reading about someone you love and being with them.

How could he ever go back to being an angel?

A man on a motorcycle on the street below revved his engine while waiting for a red light. Another man in a T-shirt revealing muscles that would intimidate anyone with half a brain was about to cross the street in front of the biker. To test if he was still an angel, Nick tried to conjure up a construct that would make the man in the T-shirt look like a hot blonde in a red bikini.

“Hey babe,” the biker said in a gravelly voice. “Want to ride with me?” He made kissing noises and smacked his lips.

The man in the T-shirt hit him in the face so hard he fell off his Harley.

Right. Still an angel.

He quickly ended the construct. The expression on the two men’s faces caused a burst of air to shoot out of Nick’s mouth and nose—a snort, followed by laughter.

His first prank. Being human was going to be fun.

It was different this time, though. So much more real and intense than in London back in the early 1900s. Perhaps that was the difference between temporary defection in which you lived as a human, and elective renouncement of angel existence, in which you became human. In any case, he couldn’t wait to tell Hope.

As he got ready to leave, he decided he’d try to find her sans angelic powers. No supernatural surveillance, no celestial fly-bys, just human ingenuity. He pulled out his mobile phone, which felt even less physically solid than before, and texted her.

SITTING AT A TABLE OUTSIDE THE COFFEE SHACK in LaJolla Village, Hope watched the fiery sky and told herself not to worry. She hadn’t heard from Nick all day, but he could go anywhere and be back before anybody even noticed. He experienced time differently. For all she knew, he could be anywhere on the planet between here and the spiritual layers. She had to trust that he’d be back soon.

Since she was a little girl she’d loved watching sunsets. And now, to perfect this glorious scene, a monarch butterfly alighted on her hand and fanned its wings.

“Hello.” Hope brought it close to admire the intricate patterns on its wings, the bright colors that matched the ones dominating the sunset. Hard to believe this lovely creature had recently been a creeping bug.

Well, yesterday she’d been a woman with nothing to live for. Today, a new creation.

“Like you,” she said as the butterfly flew off. “Free . ” Now that the burden of depression and despair had been removed, her spirit could soar with the same sweet liberty.

She took a sip of coffee that not only warmed her but tasted better than coffee had tasted in years. Her new lease on life came with a renewed appreciation for its simple pleasures.

She couldn’t wait to tell Nick what had happened during her first day of freedom. After all those emails and phone calls over the past few years, she had finally been able to contact the source of light that had been there in her darkest days with a different report–an encouraging report. The conversation had led to something incredibly exciting. Nick would be so pleased.

The phone on the table chimed. Her first text message.

It was from Nick, of course.

Nick: How do I get to The Coffee Shack?

Hope: Are you still at the hotel?

Nick: No, I’m actually…

She heard a dull, clanging thud nearby, followed by a loud moan.

“Oh my gosh, Nick! Are you okay?” She hurried over to the sidewalk, where a very dazed, a very physical Nick lay at the base of the streetlamp into which he had walked. He was rubbing his forehead with one hand and clutching his cell phone with the other. A small crowd had gathered.

“I guess that’s why they tell young people never to text and walk.” Hope said, offering him a hand. He was a lot heavier than she’d imagined. “You found me.”

“It wasn’t far.”

She led him to her table, wondering how an angel could be so…well, clumsy.

“Wait a minute, Nick.” She glanced around. “Can they see you?”

“Yes.”

“And…that’s okay?”

“I’ll explain in a minute, all right?” He pointed to the cup. “May I?”

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

“I nearly did back there,” he said.

“It’s an express—”

“I know. Sorry, just trying this humor thing. Need some practice.” Nick lifted the cup and took a long sip. “Mmm…now that’s good.”

“My fave.”

“Oh, bother. I’ve finished it.”

“It’s all right, there’s more from where that came from.” She reached out and slipped her hand in his. “You act like you’ve never had a latte before.”

“If I have, I can’t remember it ever tasting that good.” He stopped her as she was about to signal the waitress for another cup. “Never mind that. I’ve something important to tell you.”

“Wait, Nick! I have something to share too. Can I go first? Please? I’ll explode if I don’t tell you soon.”

“By all means, ladies first.” He sat back in the chair, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, then. A few years back, when I was depressed and hitting rock bottom—”

“Excuse me,” the barista said. “Can I get you two anything else?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Hope looked at Nick. “Another latte?”