chapter 19
Heather didn’t answer her phone for days. Uri had even texted her, which she had to pretend to herself wasn’t endearing.
Heather, please. Answer your phone. Talk to me. I don’t understand what is happening. Please.
She cried. What was happening, was that a perfect being was sacrificing everything to be with her. A stripper. A sinner. She couldn’t understand it. Why would he throw away his immortality, his status as one of God’s elite, to be with her? And why didn't she have a choice in the matter? It was as if God had decided Uri would fall for her, and nothing she said had any bearing on it. Did her feelings not matter? What if she didn't want him to fall for her? Because she didn't. She wasn't good enough for him.
She remembered the image of him in his true, angelic form, and her heart filled with despair. His body, his heavenly body, had glowed with a celestial brilliance, that made her tremble with the memory. His enormous wings had spread almost as tall as the trees, as if they reached toward heaven itself.
She wasn't sure if it was purposeful, or if Uri had let things get out of control, but no human could look upon beauty like that and not be affected somehow.
He had said the process had started already. Did that mean he loved her? Was it too late? Had he already lost his angelic self? Had she ruined him?
Heather choked back a sob, and she turned off her phone without replying to his text message.
On Monday, she went to visit her mother, who was in a fabulously lucid mood.
“Hello dear. Where’s your friend?” Her mother was dressed in an actual pair of jeans today, not a nightgown. And her hair was not only combed, it was washed and styled as well.
“He couldn’t make it today, Mom.” Heather wasn’t about to explain to her looney-tunes mother that an angel was risking eternity to spend a couple of decades with her.
“That’s a pity. You two will make some beautiful grandbabies for me.” Sharon smiled wistfully.
“Mom.” Heather rolled her eyes, almost glad that her mother was ribbing her.
“It’s true, have you seen him? Hubba hubba.”
“Mom! It’s not like that. I…broke up with him.” Simplify, simplify, simplify.
“Tsk. That’s a pity.”
“He doesn’t like what I do for a living.” Her mother had been surprisingly open-minded when Heather had begun dancing to help pay for college. She had been afraid to fess up, but in the end decided to be honest about where her money came from, lest her mother assume the worst.
“Did I ever tell you I used to paint?” Sharon reached for Heather’s hand. Heather enjoyed the friendly touch from her mother more than she realized. It had been so long since her mother had knowingly shown affection to her.
“Um…no.” Actually, she had last week, but Heather was feeling agreeable and didn’t want her mother angry because she couldn’t remember a conversation.
“Well, I was pretty good. But your father didn’t like for me to paint when I had Bryan. When he was a baby, he kept getting into my supplies, and your father said that I was taking crucial parenting time away from Bryan. I hated him for it.”
“So, you wish you had kept up with your painting?”
“I’m not sure now. I know that at the time, I resented the fool out of him for insisting that I stop, but in retrospect, I can’t imagine what I painted that would have been more important than my children.”
“What if your painting had been your only source of income and your family was dependent on you for it?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’m not sure if I made the right choice or not, but I do wish I had fought him on it. I would have enjoyed having something just for myself. It's something you need to talk to him about. There may be a compromise you guys can come up with.” Her eyes looked over Heather’s shoulder. “Have you seen Bryan? I think he’s stopping by for a visit today.”
After an utterly confusing visit with her mother, Heather went to the rehab facility to check on Tiffany. She had gotten a voicemail that her sister was clean; she just needed to stay the mandatory six weeks to go through the program and the counseling. But she was free to receive visitors.
“You look like hell, Heather.” Her sister greeted her from behind greasy hair, but at least she was wearing clean clothes. They were sitting on a concrete bench in the courtyard. There was the sense of being outside, yet they were still surrounded by four walls covered with dying ivy.
“So do you. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Not my boyfriend, and I don’t know.”
“That’s a shame. He was cute.”
“You sound like Mom now.”
Tiffany laughed, and it was such a foreign sound to Heather’s ears. It sounded rough, guttural, and delightful and brought back long-forgotten memories. She smiled at her sister, for the first time in years.
Tiffany nudged Heather with her leg. “So what happened? He already have a girlfriend?”
“No, he just is too…perfect. I’m not the right girl for him.”
“Heather, look at yourself. You support your deadbeat sister and your delusional mother…”
“By stripping. And he doesn’t like it.”
“So, do something else.”
“Like what? I don’t have any education, Tiff. It’s not that easy.”
“What are you good at?”
“Dancing. That’s all.”
“So, give dance lessons.”
Heather looked at her sister as if she’d just grown a second head.
“I mean it. You could give pole dancing lessons in my apartment; it’s the perfect neighborhood.”
Heather had to admit, some parts of the idea had merit, but she was pretty sure that Tiffany’s apartment was not the perfect location.
“I’ll think about it.” Trying to change the subject, she asked, “So, all clean? You ready to finish the program?”
“Yeah. The counselors all seem pretty cool, and they say I’m through the worst of it, so…”
“So you just have to keep on keepin’ on?”
“Don’t lose him Heather.”
“What?”
“He seems special. Don’t lose him.”