“There was a war in heaven.”
“You’re not telling it right.”
“I am so. That’s the beginning, ain’t it?”
Overhead, the evening traffic on the deck of the freeway had settled into the dull hum that followed the drive time frenzy. A big semi shook the bridge, temporarily silencing the argument. Lindsey flinched as a bit of scree rained down. A month wasn’t enough to– what did the social workers call it? Acclimate her to her new environment. She chased the big words around in her head until the overhead noise faded again.
“That’s the Revelations. I heard this at church already. You said this wasn’t a church story.”
“It ain’t a church story! This is a different war in heaven. It didn’t happen in Bible times, only a long time ago.”
“How long ago?”
“1980.”
“Shut up, all of y’all. I’ll tell it, and I’ll tell it right.”
“That’s right, let Keisha tell it. She tells it best.”
The surrounding young voices murmured their agreement, echoing off the concrete around them. Everyone pulled up their blankets, papers, and bits of cardboard that they used for seating and warmth. Lindsey wrapped up in her grandma’s pink afghan. Sparky, her little terrier settled into her lap with a sigh. Nikki, her best friend in the down below, gave her hand a brief squeeze as everyone crowded in.
“Keisha is the best at telling it,” Nikki whispered to Lindsey. “Listen and learn.”
Keisha was barely visible in the middle of the little clump of children. Even though Keisha was a head taller than most of the younger kids, in the dark, she didn’t look so scary. In the dark, the lint caught in her dreadlocks didn’t show. In the dark, you couldn’t see that her clothes were dirty and that she had a chipped front tooth. Keisha was slender and graceful as she gathered the others around.
Night couldn’t cancel out the smell of unwashed bodies, stale food and exhaust fumes. The cooler air muted the odors to a bearable level. Lindsey cast an anxious glance toward the spot high up where her mama liked to sleep. She couldn’t see, but she knew that her mama wasn’t there. Some nights she was, some nights she wasn’t. If she came back and found Lindsey with the “riffraff”, there would be hell to pay. But it was worth facing her mother’s anger to not be alone.
“Not so long ago, there was a war in heaven,” Keisha began.
Lindsey snuggled down against Nikki. Keisha’s story-voice was almost as good as Lindsey’s grandma’s. Lindsey turned her mind away from painful worry and devoted her attention to Keisha. As the story began, her concerns melted away. Grandma’s health, Mama’s whereabouts, Sparky’s wheezing, and the rumble of her tummy after her meager dinner blended in with the subliminal hum of the city.
“God in Heaven was just hanging in his throne room, watching all the happenings on earth on all his multitude of wide screen tvs.”
“How many tvs did God have?” a voice called out.
“At least fifty!” Someone else replied.
“A hundred!”
“Quiet!” Keisha waited for the group to settle before continuing. An ambulance rumbled over their heads, sirens blaring.
“There he was, drinking top shelf margaritas and deciding what heathens he was gonna smite next. Then of a sudden there was a commotion at the gates of heaven.”
“No!” That yelp sounded like it came from Miguel. “You gotta tell us what heaven was like before the war. It ain’t no good unless we get to hear about the before times.”
Nikki stiffened next to Lindsey as Keisha’s head swiveled around, surveying the crowd. After a moment of breathless silence Keisha shrugged her thin shoulders. This time she ignored an opportunity for retribution. Like Lindsey’s mama, Keisha’s moods were often all over the place. Keisha cleared her throat and continued.
“God had a huge palace, made all of moon marble. It was the most beautiful mansion anywhere, with tvs in every room. It had a swimming pool bigger than the one over at the community center. A hot tub too. All the good angels waited on God hand and foot day and night. The angels got paid in chocolate wrapped in real gold.”
The crowd sighed in appreciation. This didn’t sound much like the heaven that Preacher Matt had talked of in Grandma’s church. Lindsey thought it sounded fine. Much better than angels on clouds with harps singing praises. Even patient angels must get bored with so little to do.
“So anyways, there was a commotion at the gates of heaven. The bad angels came. They had assault rifles, big pistols, the works. All the bad angel gangs were all followin’ one leader for the first time ever. They broke right through the pearly gates with their black SUV. First thing, they tossed out God’s doorman, right down to earth.”
Another argument broke out and Lindsey drew Sparky close, in case it came to blows.
“God don’t have no doorman!”
“He does too. That’s Saint Peter, you dumbass.”
“Your momma gonna pop you in the mouth for sayin’ dumbass!”
“Shush!” Keisha ordered.
Even though Lindsey wasn’t one of the offenders, she hunkered down, out of Keisha’s line of sight. Keisha went silent for a moment while the group settled.
“You all know St. Peter, he’s that crazy old guy who walks 6th Street, with the shopping cart full of cans and cats.”
“I seen him yesterday. He got a new cat,” someone said. Keisha ignored him in favor of continuing the story.
“Them bad angels were quick and smart, and they were powerful strong. They beat up the good angels and tossed them out of heaven too. They smashed up everything, even the moon marble walls of the palace of heaven, and God had no choice but to run away.”
“Where’d he go?” a fearful little voice whispered.
“Nobody knows,” Keisha replied. “He’s gone far away. Even his good angels haven’t heard from him. They do their best. The Blue Lady helps when she can, but now, the bad angels run everything.”
“They do, they run everything,” Nikkie whispered into Lindsey’s ear.
“You see a bad angel, you run away,” Keisha instructed. “You see a good angel, you try to help.” Her head turned in the darkness, peering at them all in turn. “You’re all on the side of the good angels, right?”
The gathering murmured their agreement.
“There ain’t no traitors here.” Keisha nodded. “I’d know, because I’m in good with the good angels. They give me special sight to see badness. You all keep doing good, and turn away from the badness, you hear? Don’t let no bad angels near you. Don’t listen to them whispering in the night. We’re fighting for the good angels. They need all the help they can get.”
“Till God gets back?” Lindsey asked, caught up in the moment. Keisha stood up, towering above them all. She pushed through the gathered, stopping in front of Lindsey. She hunkered down and struck out with one hand, aimed at Linsey’s face.
“Don’t, Keisha, she’s new. She don’t know!” Nikkie cried out, catching Keisha’s hand.
Keisha turned her face to Nikkie and yanked her hand away. She grabbed Lindsey’s chin in steely fingers and turned her head back and forth, examining her in the gloom.
“She’s one of us, Keisha. She’s on the side of the good angels,” Nikkie said in a desperate whisper.
“Sure, she’s one of us, with her new shoes and little dog and fancy pink blanket.”
Lindsey blinked at this sarcastic inventory and looked down at her sneakers. They had been white a few weeks ago, before the social services workers had decided that she should be re-homed with her mother. Her mother had at the time been three months clean and sober. She had a section 8 apartment, and a supposed strong desire to be a proper mother to her only daughter.
The apartment and the sobriety hadn’t lasted past the first collection of extra SNAP benefits. Lindsey wanted to go back to her grandma’s. Her mama said that she had full custody. Grandma would be thrown in jail if Lindsey ever went to her house again.
Keisha put her face close to Lindsey’s, bringing her back to her present problems. The older girl’s breath stank of old pizza and cheap toothpaste.
“God ain’t coming back, honey child,” Keisha said. She let go of Lindsey’s chin and laid it with surprising gentleness on Lindsey’s cheek.
“He ain’t never coming back. There’s just us and the angels now. Nikkie’s right. You’re one of the good ones. You’ll help the good angels, right?”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Lindsey babbled.
After Keisha finally let her go, Lindsey and made her way back to the high up spot where her mother insisted they sleep. She settled down into the nest of old sleeping bags and newspapers and prayed for a little sleep. School was so hard with no sleep.
She was dozing off when Nikkie came. Time to go find out if the good angels would accept her.
“I thought Keisha said I was one of the good ones already,” Lindsey whined as Nikkie dragged her down the embankment to meet with the others.
“We all have to go through the trial. It’s the rules.” Nikkie patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine.
“But Sparky!”
“Ariella! Look after Lindsey’s dog!” Nikkie wrestled Sparky from Lindsey’s grasp and handed him to a plump Hispanic girl who was in the grade below them at school.
Since Lindsey was the only newcomer who hadn’t yet faced the trial, the group was small. Main street was silent as the little band of children crept towards the Tattoo parlor, the only open store on the street.
The parlor’s sign was a garish multi-color neon announcing that “Tattoo U” was open all night. Lindsey couldn’t imagine why anyone would want a tattoo in the middle of the night. Then again, Lindsey couldn’t imagine why anyone ever wanted a tattoo at all.
Miguel waved them all to the cover of the doorway of the next closest shop, a pawn shop that closed at midnight. Lindsey peered at the musical instruments and small appliances behind the barred windows. The empty black velvet jewelry cases looked sinister in the gloom. Miguel reappeared, a bit winded.
“Hurry,” He whispered. “They’re all in the back taking a break, since they ain’t got no customers.”
“Time to meet the angels and get judged!” Keisha gave her a shove in the small of the back, out of the cover of the pawn shop cubby.
Lindsey stumbled onto the sidewalk in front of the tattoo parlor. Pink, orange, blue, green and yellow washed over her, the orange hue flickering in time to the crackle of its ballast’s intermittent short.
A shadow fell across her and she flinched. The tattooist gave her a cursory, incurious glance before disappearing again. She sighed with relief and disappointment. No angels for her after all. No one to judge what she should have done and shouldn’t have, no one to plumb the secrets of her heart.
As she turned to return to her friends, her sneaker caught on the uneven paving and she went down hard, sprawling face down on the sidewalk.
Firm hands turned her face up. There was a sudden burst of warmth-filled light and a rush of sound. The brush of feathery wings surrounded her. Part of her thought maybe she had disturbed some pigeons. The other part was frozen with fear. Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember the prayer her grandma had taught her.
“Angel of God, my guardian dear,” she choked out over the terror clogging her throat.
Peace, child. Words and music filled her mind.
Lindsey’s eyes flew open. The air was golden, full of motes, stretching out into some infinitesimal forever that she couldn’t touch but still enveloped her. Substance became form. All around her flew beauty; huge adult-sized creatures with flowing hair and wings, dressed not in the robes of her grandmother’s Bible stories books, but in tunics and armor.
They drank in the neon light and the street only grew brighter with their reflected glory. One angel, gentian-eyed with hair like spun gold, flew close and took Lindsey’s hands. They were strong, work-hardened hands, hands that felt like her grandma’s, only with the strength of good health.
Be Brave!
For the first time in forever, Lindsey felt that she could be brave. She could be good and strong; it was in her heart to be able to do these things. The world of light and music whirled and vanished, snuffing out at the same time as the neon light from the tattoo parlor.
“Damned Ballasts!” One of the tattoo artists thumped the sign with his forefinger. “You okay kid?”
Another came out to join him. His gaze landed on Lindsey. “Scram!” Turning back to his partner, he added, “don’t encourage the bums to hang around.”
“It’s just a kid!”
“Kid or not, she’s out on the take after midnight. Scram, or I call the cops!”
Lindsay ran back to the pawn shop doorway, only to find the others had deserted her. For a moment she felt afraid, then she remembered the embrace of the angels. She had passed the trial. She ha to be brave and help the good angels. She checked the crosswalk and headed back to the underpass, alone in the dark but not alone in her heart.
Keisha was waiting for her.
“You be quiet now.” Keisha grabbed a handful of her hair. What were you doin’, standing out there on the sidewalk like an idiot?”
“You said I was to meet the angels. So I met them,” Lindsey whined, her eyes tearing up from the pain of pulled hair.
“You run through them, move on. No standing and gawking. There’s rules!”
“Maybe you should have told me the rules before,” Lindsey wrenched free from Keisha’s grasp.
You don’t mess with the good angels. They have a hard job, keeping us all safe.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Lindsey repressed her sigh of relief when Keisha finally let her go. Her mom still wasn’t back and it was almost dawn. For once, Lindsey didn’t worry, because she now had angels on her side.
The next day, Miguel ambushed her as soon as she cleared the big arched gateway of the school. He grabbed her arm and steered her down the sidewalk in the opposite direction from the underpass, back toward Main street.
“Stop it!” Lindsey tried and failed to pull her arm free from his relentless grasp. “Why are we going this way? My mom wants me straight back.”
Miguel paid no attention to this bald lie.
“We gotta go see Saint Peter.”
Read Part Two Here: https://www.tlryder.com/?p=4903
