Author:
Loveroy - posting everything she wrote during Wilma's visit
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Date Posted: Sunday, October 30, 02:16:26am
In reply to:
Loveroy
's message, "I Rembmer Sarah - Chapter 22 and forward" on Friday, October 14, 10:37:19am
Nikita noticed for the first time a dark clad angel standing close by, which only she could see and who spoke in a sarcastic monotone to the rattled blonde, “I want you to see what your life will be like after pulling this stunt.”
“Stunt?” Nikita asked, receiving no answer from the bold headed entity.
The blonde woman turned in a circle and found herself alone but for the celestial spirit, who obviously wallowed in a deep funk as she furthered, “Who are you and what have you done with my Father and Michael.”
The being chortled, “Welcome to Season 2 of ‘I went to Heaven and all I got was this lousy pair of wings.’”
The heavens around her turned pitch black and the firmament a velvet blanket with diamonds strewn throughout. What Nikita confused for the Devil’s emissary was in reality a Night Angel named Schtoppel, in charge of new arrivals from Section 1. Nikita immediately took an inventory of what surrounded her and decided to go with the flow putting on the charm just in case she miscalculated her position and Hell was really her destination.
“I am sorry, but could I possibly speak with Michael now?” She asked excusing herself.
“No, Popsicle, that part comes when you’ve played a game of ‘This is your Life’ - you know, the Cable version,” The dark being reposted.
“I see, so are you now going to give me a tour of Hell?” Nikita asked.
The Cherub, if you can stomach the visual of Schtopel in a black diaper, laughed and asked, “Didn’t you get the memo about there being no Hell?” And then looking up at the sky above and throwing his hands in the air in an exaggerated fashion he asked, “Who is responsible for this ignoramus?”
Nikita furiously asked, “What did you call me?”
And the bolding seraph snorted, “Well if the Ferragamo fits – look Babe you spent your adolescence in Section, didn’t that feel like Hell to you? It sure did to me!”
“I’ll let you know that… never mind, I don’t want to deal with you any longer, let me speak to whomever is in charge.”
Angel Schtopel, who was all wind and no substance replied, “Heh, look don’t take it personally, I was just flexing my muscles because it has been a long time since I was allowed to push someone of your caliber around.”
“Listen buddy, I am not afraid of you or your boss…”
Schtopel interrupted, “My boss? Mr. Operations sir is not with us yet and in any event, here we only have to answer to my Father.”
Nikita was confused, “Then you are not a representative of Lucifer?”
“You are starting to piss me off lady. See here – even Old Gooseberry has been downgraded to a Category 1.” The Angel continued, “I loved the night-life so much during my stint below that I was assigned this graveyard shift, pun intended.”
The blonde stubbornly said, “Well Disco King, if you can’t get me Michael, I want to see Sarah.”
The spirit appeared, “Nikita I am here, I know Schtopel can be annoying, but you need to go with him.”
The blonde went willingly to a balcony in the clouds and was shown a fantastic life where she was accompanied by a handsome man who dotted on her children and loved her so. Nikita, however, was visibly miserable and equated all her sorrow and grief to the loss of her one true love. She had lost the gift of seeing dead people and her days as a Section One Operative were over, leaving only PTA and Soccer to fill her empty life.
She watched her life play before her full of doldrums and shattered dreams. She got up in the morning to a boring breakfast of Special K cereal, then did the country club thing bending the elbow with too many fruity drinks at lunch. Finally after an equally ho-hum dinner with the kiddies and the better half, she went to sleep getting laid once a month come rain or shine – this wasn’t freedom either. Her rich handsome husband was in truth calculating and manipulative especially of his trophy wife, and as a frustrated Nikita reasoned more often than not, he definitely was no Michael.
Was her husband as handsome as Michael had been? Please… not even. Was he calculating like Michael used to be? He wished he could be as crafty, underhanded or astute as the handsome man was. And Manipulative - was Mr. Nikita good at this distasteful trait? Well, not as much as Michael had been; for the handsome Level 5 even turned manipulation into an art form that sampled just right. At the end of the day – God she wished she had… never mind having X Rated thoughts about a man that was long gone and at a time like this.
“Michael needs to stay,” Schtopel confessed stopping her musings. “You’ll adapt, look – look at what your life will be like. It isn’t that bad now is it; let’s go...”
The woman realized the entertainment portion of this illusion was almost over and she warned, “Oh no you don’t, I want to see what my life would be like if Michael returned with me. At least give me that much.”
-----
The room was filled with the laughter of family and the smell of breakfast foods while a soft accented voice sing-sang children’s songs to the kids’ delight. The space was full of light, the sound of the breaking surf could be heard in the distance and the warm breeze commingled with the cold air-conditioning flowed through the place. It was a typical Saturday morning with the laziness of the weekend ahead and the anticipation of the fun in the surf delightfully plastered on everyone’s face.
Little Sarah stood on her tiptoes intently watching a solitary drop of dew slide slowly down the glass pane of the French doors leading to the patio facing the ocean. Her bikini top rode high on her baby-stomach, while the bottom part hardly covered the diaper she now attempted to remove. The little girl was an exhibitionist like her mother who always laughed her hardy chuckle every time the child prevailed in exposing her behind.
Adam placed a CD on the player and the synthesized music filled the room with its stylized tone. The boy sat in front of a battery of drums pretending to play the percussion instrument to the beat of the music streaming from the Bose speakers. His father warned him to leave the drums and CD alone until his mother awoke.
It frustrated the boy to have to wait to play his favorite tom-tom and fill the house with its sounds – rat’a’tat, rat’a’tat. Of course the child didn’t realize that it was only 7:30 on a weekend morning and the beat-beat-beat of a little drummer boy would wake even the dead from their peaceful slumber. His father watched Adam and filled with pride, after all the child was pretty good with the stick and skins covering the tambour.
Adam enunciated pouting, “How do you expect me to become famous like you, if you don’t let me practice?”
The father continued singing, “Sur le pont…” And then smiled answering, “It’s too early in the morning Adam, come sing with me instead of playing the drums.”
The melodious ditty continued from the man and girl, now accompanied by the little boy tapping his drumsticks against the marble kitchen counter. His father had suggested this diversion in an attempt to calm the grumpy boy down. The boy would stop his banging every once in a while to sneak a bite from a butter filled croissant the father held in one hand.
Michael stirred the egg mixture with the other hand and multitasked in his usual fashion. Sarah managed to slip out of her bottoms and now shrilled with joy as her father chased her trying to stop the baby from waking the mother. The child entered the room continuing her screeching while moving swiftly through the labyrinth of strewn clothing that lay on the bedroom floor.
“Sarah, Sarah,” Michael whispered as he picked up the finery his wife and he discarded during their night of apparent debauchery.
“Nohhhh pappa, no…” Sarah was laughing and trying hard to evade her father’s grip, waking the mother in the process.
“Good morning my love,” Michael greeted his wife as the child jumped forcefully on the bed bringing her mother’s eyes to open confusedly while the man scolded, “Sarah get off the bed now.”
Sarah shrieked again and hid her head in her mother’s bosom while her bum stood proudly out in the open. The expression on Nikita and Michael’s faces was that of pure rapture for the joy that was the little girl who looked so much like Michael as a child. Along with Adam the little girl helped bring perfection into Nikita and Michael’s blessed life.
“Mommy, look.” Sarah said pointing to a tiny red dot on her finger, “Booboo.”
Nikita laughed, for the little girl knew exactly what to do to wrap her parents around her little finger. The blonde mom held her child close to her breast padding the baby’s nude bottom and winking at the dad, who faked a scolding look. The often-morose Michael was mush in the presence of the 3 people in his life and his sedate approach often slipped when faced with the charm of his children and/or wife.
Pretending to censure his daughter and dangling a black lacy bra in one finger Michael ordered, “Sarah let mommy sleep, allons.”
“No pappa no allons, Sarah booboo,” The baby said and began to whimper, probably upset that her father seemed mad at her.
Michael dropped the bra and picked the child up blowing a raspberry on her tummy while dancing with her around the room. To the child’s ecstasy the father held her high above his head as he twirled with her. The fat tears were forgotten as her green eyes glimmered with happiness and she squealed inviting her mother to join her and pappa in the dance.
Before the pretty woman stood she donned a pale pink muscle shirt and tiny panties that Michael picked up from the floor and threw at her. She quickly got decent and happily danced with her husband and baby to the beat of the music playing in the stereo. She called out for Adam to join them in the delightful ballet for the exhaustion of the workweek had given way to the pleasantness of a weekend morn.
From the family room Michael and Nikita heard the reverberating sound of the drums and cymbals harmonizing with the synthesized music from the stereo as Adam played and yelled his response, “I’ll play, you dance. But pappa the milk is boiling over.”
The shrill of the phone and the bubbling liquid brought Michael and Nikita back to reality and she answered the ring while her husband rushed to save the spilled milk. She was picking up the receiver as Michael was placing Sarah on the bed with great care before running to the kitchen. Adam used a bit of restrain when he realized his mother was getting the call and lay his drumsticks down while turning the music to mute. Sarah tried now to remove her bathing suit top with the same intensity she used on the bottoms.
Nikita said, “Hello?”
A disembodied voice asked, “Josephine?”
Nikita again, “Yes.”
The voice continued, “One moment” and then a familiar voice, “I hate to bother you on a weekend but we have a situation that needs your attention.”
“There is no way I am going in, tell me over the phone what seems to be the problem?”
The spilled milk bedlam was averted and Michael returned to the bedroom and to his wife’s side. The intensity of the woman’s face reminded the handsome man that they were charged with the delicate balance to this side of life. Suddenly she rolled her eyes, covered the mouthpiece of the phone and addressed her husband in a hushed tone.
“Adrian just came on, she is not happy that you have become famous in the music industry and wants to discuss this with you.”
“Tell her we’ll discuss it on Monday, but today is Saturday and we don’t allow work of any sort to interfere with our family time. And tell her she is not to bring this up when they come visiting, we’ll discuss it at Oversight.” After reciting his riposte Michael turned and left the room, carrying a giggling Sarah like if she was a nude sack of potatoes.
Nikita sighed and said into the receiver, “Did you hear him Adrian?” And after getting an affirmative response the blonde continued, “So when you guys come down, can you please remember to bring me some fresh coriander from your garden?”
---
Nikita was elated by the motion picture she witnessed and when she turned again to face Schtopel he was gone. She was left alone in a limbo of sorts and her desperate calls to Michael and Sarah went unanswered, as did her prayers to her God. She cried feeling forsaken and felt herself falling while her mind whirled as her memory also abandoned her.
Nikita found herself seating a bit confused in a coffeehouse in a beautiful suburb of Montreal. She hated to do favors for her mother Roberta, but she promised her mom and now she waited for the son of an ailing friend of her progenitor. For now, Nikita was an everyday run of the mill book editor who could see dead people and had helped the authorities solve some dreadful crimes. She also smoked pot in the past and her mother had obviously not forgotten about that.
The man she was waiting to meet was visiting his father who was dying in a hospital nearby. Roberta had dated the ailing man even though he had been married at the time. Nikita remembered Sebastien, the man’s son as a very pleasant young man who she heard left Quebec for the Americas to make his fortune dealing in stocks and bonds.
The ex-wife had called together all the dying man’s friends in an effort of surrounding him with the joyful portions of his life and thus allowing him to say his good-byes. Because Sebastien’s father was in excruciating pain, the man wanted to ease his father’s agony with drugs he could not get in the hospital. Roberta suggested that he call Nikita for she was sure her daughter partook of recreational narcotics.
Nikita, very pissed at her mom for telling anyone she knew where to get drugs finally agreed to see Sebastien. She suggested that the man first go to the authorities and try to get names of dealers for she had not bought drugs in years. She expounded that after all the police was probably the best source of such names for they knew all the dealers and could perhaps point him in the right direction.
Sebastien still begged for her to meet with him for coffee and Nikita agreed making a date to see him after Sebastien finished with the authorities. She warned him to be direct and suggested he go to the precinct in Rue St. Hughes, she had helped them once and knew they had a big narcotics bureau. Sebastien was starting to recall the fact that things in Montreal were done very differently from they way they were done Stateside. However, one thing was for sure, money still talked loudly on both sides of the border.
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I Remember Sarah - Chapter 26 - Long