II. My Saint
I had just finished reorganizing my wall of sticky notes when a boisterous, albeit charming car honk had snapped me out of my thoughts. I used to dread that noise. It was akin to an ill omen, for it indicated when I would be whisked off to the Renaissance Theatre.
However, I had recently realized that it was far better than being cooped up in this glass cage and swimming in my thoughts.
A minute hadn’t even passed before an obnoxious succession of knocks followed the honk and echoed throughout the room. This prompted me to kick down the door. Was it an excessive reaction? Probably, but the person on the other side of the door was well aware that he was being extra too. This wasn’t the first time that he had unleashed a fusillade of knocks on my door and I was sure that it wouldn’t be the last.
To my immense satisfaction, the steel door had completely engulfed his lithe frame when it fell. He let out a series of amusing, muffled protests and I may or may not have felt a shred of pity for him. With a clap of my hands, the door dissipated and then rematerialized back into its frame.
Shortly afterwards, he had gotten up from his slump and began stretching. A variety of concerning, yet entertaining pops arose as he readjusted his bones.
“Good evening Cecil. Care for some tea before we head out?”
He vigorously shook his head as he brushed a few stray strands of platinum hair from his face. “Heck no. You’ve probably added poison to it.”
“You’re immortal,” I reminded him as I opened the door wider.
“You never cease to make me doubt my immortality,” Cecil mumbled as he procured a glossy ticket from his pocket. “Now hurry up and get into the car. We don’t have all day.”
Cecil was my designated saint and my only friend in the afterlife. In Utopia, the term saint merely referred to angels who guided lost souls. They were tasked with driving their assigned soul to the Renaissance Theatre each day and compiling a thorough report to send to the creator at the end of each session.
That’s all they had to do, yet Cecil had done so much more for me. Prior to being a saint, Cecil had been a high ranking messenger angel who led a comfortable life in heaven. I had been told by Gabriel, the archangel who presided over Utopia, that Cecil had given it all up to help guide me. I still can’t fathom why but I’m really grateful.
Cecil didn’t look like the depictions of angels I was accustomed to seeing in the mortal realm. Those angels wore pristine, elegant white garments and carried themselves in a sophisticated air. Their golden hair were always in lush ringlets and they were fair skinned. On the other hand, Cecil always donned an ominous black cloak and a pair of thick sunglasses. His hair was mussed and bleached and his skin was deathly pale. Yet, there was this undeniable charm he held that I couldn’t quite place my finger on.
“Something on your mind?”
I shook my head. “Nah, I’m just out of it.”
“I know you’re lying but okay.” Cecil said. “There’s a square of chocolate in the glove compartment .”
“Thanks.” I mumbled.
The bar of chocolate was bitter yet soothing. It contrasted with the serene sunset reflected by the numerous glass apartments scattered across Utopia, which was beautiful but unnerving.
“Say Cecil,” I began. “Why did you decide to help me?”
“I was lonely.” He confessed. “Well to be fair, I was pretty lonely in the mortal world too. All I really had was my girlfriend but she’s not in heaven yet.”
“Do I know your girlfriend then?” I prodded.
“Beats me. The creator wiped my memory when I took on this job. All I remember are bits and pieces.” Cecil responded. “But believe it or not, you’ve really helped me. I’m not sure if I’m any closer to finding her whereabouts but I’ve been a lot happier here than when I was in heaven.”
“Heaven is paradise though, isn’t it?” I asked.
“On paper it is.” Cecil explained. “But you can’t really appreciate it if you don’t have your friends or family with you. I had neither, which is why I became a messenger angel. It allowed me to spend more time in the mortal realm.”
“What happened?” I inquired as a pregnant pause lingered in the air.
“The mortal realm is disgusting. There’s so much corruption and hate. I just couldn’t take it anymore.” He replied.
“I would know.” I laughed darkly. “That’s why I’m here.”
“No.” Cecil said in a haunting, assertive tone. “There’s no denying that you’ve done something wrong. But you’ve already been forgiven. The only thing binding you to Utopia is guilt.”
I blinked hard. “What do you mean?”
“He already forgave you. But you haven’t forgiven yourself. Gabriel told me that much. You’ll see soon.”
I couldn’t process anything he was saying. My body was moving on its own accord. I had unlocked my door and staggered out. A thick fog engulfed the area but I still pressed forward, blindly groping the air. I just wanted to get today’s session over with.
“Kid, the Renaissance Theater is in the other direction!” Cecil hissed exasperatedly. “Hold on, just wait for me.”
The fog was blurring my vision and all I could hear were Cecil’s footsteps approaching me.
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