Hours later, I awoke to fingers gliding over my bare shoulder: slow, lazy, much like how I felt at the moment. Michael’s chest was a wall of solid heat behind me, melded against my back, a comforting weight. He leaned over and kissed the nape of my neck, his voice quiet.
“Oh, good. You’re not dead.”
I choked on a laugh, rolling my head backwards to look at him. “Well, that was a romantic thing to wake up to.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. It’s just that you were pretty out of it for a while there. I was starting to think I accidentally killed you.”
“That would have been one hell of a way to go,” I admitted, stretching my back. A few things popped in response, further relaxing me.
Michael nuzzled his nose against the right side of my neck, sighing. “I think I owe you and the entire human race an apology.”
I glanced at him again. “For what?”
“Well…” he said slowly, his face solemn. “Having experienced love-making for the first time, I am amazed that you don’t simply do it all the time, seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day.”
I couldn’t help it. I erupted into laughter, so hard that my entire upper body shook beneath the sheets. Michael had enough sense to look sheepish after his statement, waiting patiently for me to regain composure.
I wiped my eyes, kissing him on the nose. “Congratulations. You are officially a human being. A human male, I might add.”
I watched with wonderment as his face turned a fantastic shade of pink, my grin stretching. “Are you blushing?”
He scowled, looking away. “No.”
“You are too cute for words.”
He groaned, burying his face in the pillow behind me. “Don’t say that. I hate it.”
I shook my head, lying down as well. “Sorry, but you really are sometimes.”
The archangel grunted in annoyance before scooting a bit closer so that our bodies were aligned, his right hand stroking the line of my side from my ribcage to my hipbone. He seemed oddly fixated on that part of my body rather than the more salacious bits, but I didn’t mind since it was soothing. We lay there in silence for a long while, enjoying the simple comfort of being able to touch one another, until eventually his fingertips wandered to my back and began tracing the scars.
“I could heal them, you know,” Michael murmured, his thumb caressing one scar that peeked around the small of my back and spilled onto the side of my thigh.
“I know. Raphael offered the same thing, but I turned him down.”
“Why?”
“They’re reminders of my past, of things I can’t forget. Things that made me the way I am. Making them disappear won’t change anything. I’ll carry them like I carry everything else.”
Michael pushed up on one hand above me and kissed my lips once, softly. “May I never become something you have to carry.”
I smiled, brushing the dark hair out of his eyes. “You won’t.”
EPILOGUE
“I made him just and right
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
Such I created all th’ Ethreal Powers
And spirits, both them who stood and them who fail’d
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.
Not free, what proof could they have given sincere
Of true alliance, Faith or Love
Where onely what they needs must do, appeard,
Not what they would?”
The pastor’s voice rose and fell with a distinctive cadence, accenting John Milton’s powerful words about mankind’s free will. Funny. Often, his poetry inspired me and filled me with a sense of purpose, but now it only served to squeeze a few more hot tears from the corners of my eyes.
I stood behind the seats of Terrell’s immediate family, not good enough for a chair in their eyes, but I didn’t expect them to treat me any differently now that he was gone. His mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that probably cost more than my dress, and his father had one arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm. They met no one’s gaze, only staring forlornly at their son’s coffin, which overflowed with white roses and lilies.
Michael stood to my left, holding my hand, his thumb tracing a slow, comforting pattern across the back of it. I had tried and failed to convince him not to come with me. He knew this would be hard for me and he also felt the need to pay his respects since he had delivered the final blow.
The sun had begun to set. Orange light spilled in from the trees surrounding the cemetery as the pastor closed out the reading. Each family member was given the chance to select a flower before they interred the coffin into the grave. He would be resting next to his father’s parents, who had died a couple years ago. He loved them dearly and so it was only right he remained with them in death.
One by one, his immediate family plucked roses from the decorations. The pastor glanced towards me. It was common knowledge that I was the only long-term relationship Terrell had ever been in. It led some people to believe I was sort of family. I shook my head, not feeling worthy of such an honor, but Terrell’s younger sister Grace nudged my arm to encourage me. Her mother opened her mouth to object. Grace sent her a glare that would melt a glacier and she pressed her lips together in silent consent.
I let go of Michael’s hand and selected a lily, my fingertips brushing the polished surface of the coffin. No one was close enough to hear me whisper, “Thank you for everything.”
I went back to my spot and the pastor finished the ceremony with a powerful prayer. Shortly afterward, the crowd dispersed to get ready for the reception, which I wouldn’t be attending because I didn’t feel very welcome. It had only been at Grace’s urging that I was allowed to come at all.
I gave her a firm hug, holding her hands before I pulled away. “I’m so sorry, Gracie. I really am.”
She shook her head, attempting to smile. “It’s alright. I’m glad you came. He’d want things to be right between our families.”
I returned the tentative smile. “Good luck with that.”
She giggled, but the sound didn’t drown out her mother’s cold voice as she walked over, her frown lines deepening with anger.
“I can’t believe you, Grace. Inviting that trollop here like she’s one of us, and with a white man, no less. Huh. Probably wants to know if she got something in the will.” The old woman sneered, glaring between Michael and me.
I didn’t know what came over me at that moment. Maybe I felt vulnerable or maybe that sneer reminded me of my Aunt Carmen, but either way words spilled out of my lips before I could stop them.
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t you stand here on your son’s grave and soil his memory with your selfishness. I don’t care if you don’t like me. I don’t care if you think you’re better than me. Terrell was a great man and I will not let you stand here and act like you don’t have any home training. I am here to pay my respects and I have paid them so you don’t have to worry about me darkening your doorstep again. All he ever wanted was for the people he loved to be happy and you will never honor his wishes as long as you keep stepping on the people you think are beneath you.”
She said nothing, only glancing away with a mixture of shame and anger. I exhaled and turned back to Grace. “If you ever need anything, you’ve got my number. Take care of yourself, okay?”
She nodded. “You too.”
With that, Michael and I started towards the car. He reached for my hand again and I took it, glad as his warm fingers wrapped around mine. His voice was quiet when he spoke.
“Are you going to be alright?”
I sighed. “Maybe. Someday I’ll wake up and this won’t hurt as much. But that day isn’t today.”
He opened the car door for me, meeting my eyes as I climbed in. “Until then, I’ll be around to remind you that you have saved more lives than you have taken.”
For the first time that day, a genuine smile touched my lips. “That’s sweet of you.”
Michael leaned down
and kissed me, whispering, “It’s also completely true. I have faith in that day as I have faith in you.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything else.”
Then he shut the door and drove me home.
******
Terminat hora diem; terminal Author opus.
The hour ends the day; the author ends his work.