When I was a young boy, everyone liked my ideas. They usually did what I suggested. I was very popular with the other kids.
I sat with my eyes closed in the comfortable wooden Adirondack chair, on the deck in my back yard, the scent of the surrounding pines drifted among the warm sunbeams. My mind click-click-clicked lazily through thoughts of my childhood.
I was walking along my street in Waukegan, a far north suburb of Chicago. I remembered that I was thinking, “Life is Good.” I was only eight years old and had never actually heard that saying, but it summed up my feelings about my short life very well. As people say, I had not a care in the world.
The sun was also shining on that summer day so long ago. The Great Lakes area could be a nasty, blustery cold place in the winter, but this day was a mild 79 degrees Fahrenheit. Some birds in the maple tree in the neighbor’s front yard, seemed to be just as happy as me, their chirps and calls adding to the general aura of well-being.
Tom and Gerald were with me that day. We were inseparable back then. Everyone said that we were three peas in a pod, all average size and build for our age. They preferred to call me Al instead of the stodgy Albert that I had been assigned by my father to honor his father. My cropped brown hair matched my dark brown eyes, while Tom was blonde and blue eyed and Gerald was the fancy one with light brown hair, with green eyes, and a dusting of freckles. The grown-ups always said he had an Irish ancestor. We were a typical group of young boys, running and roughhousing and making more noise than was appreciated, but not intending anything by it.
Also with us, though we did not realize it, was the customary unseen, shadowy knot of Infidels that were ever present, gliding along behind and amongst us. Their murmurs were never heard by us specifically, but the effect of them were felt in our thoughts. Most people have never heard of Infidels. We certainly did not realize that they existed either back then.
Infidels are ethereal spirit beings that very rarely are seen or heard but they love to follow people who are sensitive to their whispers. They enjoy creating little mishaps and drama so they can relish the emotional turmoil.
This day the Infidels were not interfering with their usual antics. All of us walked down the sidewalk enjoying the warm daylight. I remember thinking that this is how every day should be. No school, no chores, just friends and fun!
But of course, that is not how life works.
* * *
Another memory slipped into focus in my mind. It was of me in grammar school, when I was around ten years old.
I was looking out the cafeteria window at a group of classmates who had not yet come in from recess. The mostly empty room was very quiet except for the shuffling of shoes on linoleum and the scrape of a couple of chairs being pulled away from the long tables. My stomach gave a huge gurgling rumbling outcry. I glanced around and saw that the other kids who had already come in were lining up to get their lunch.
The ever-present Infidel behind me whispered, 'Get in the front! You’re hungry. They won’t mind.'
The whisper became my own thought as it so often did, and I walked over to the head of the line and took my customary place. I almost always took the first place in the lunch line, and no one ever seemed to object. It was my spot. Joey, who had been first, just squeezed back. As he did so he nudged Kimberly, to make room for me.
I could smell the wieners and macaroni and cheese in the steaming bins in the serving line. I was hungry!
“Boy! I can’t wait to pile into that!” I said, pointing with my face in the direction of the food and laughing. Joey laughed a bit too, although with less mirth.
* * *
Another memory of me getting everyone to do what I wanted surfaced. Older now, I was in ninth grade hanging out with Tom and Gerald, as usual. We had a few other members with us of ‘The Group’ as we thought of ourselves, but we three were the founding members and so the important ones.
We were on the cement steps at the side of our school, laughing about our half-formed plan to get back at Nancy. She and her friends had thrown a party at her parent’s house last Saturday to which none of us were invited. Our plan was still incomplete, because the Infidel whispering it into my ear had not fully enlightened me of its entirety.
Evelyn, one of Nancy’s friends who had been at the party, was approaching down the sidewalk with a small group of other girls. They were in their preppy dresses, walking that walk that only teenagers who think that they are cute can pull off. The Infidel suggested that we should talk loud enough to be overheard but not too obviously. I quickly filled Tom and Gerald in on the rest of the plan. Tom led off.
“Yeah, Nancy and Ben were around the back corner making out big time,“ Tom said.
“Really?” I prompted.
“His hands were all over her,” Tom continued as the girls drifted past. “They didn’t know I was there. I saw him working the catch on her bra!”
We could tell that they had heard when their heads moved together and the air around them crackled with energy. The girls moved away more quickly than they had approached.
Another voice, richer and more engaging, sounded in my other ear. 'This is not how young men should behave!'
I did not know at the time, but I do now, that it was a Messenger, another type of spirit being. One that strove for the greater good of all. He had whispered to me before but rarely made an appearance in my circle and did not have the same effect on me that the Infidels managed, whose messages were much more to my liking.
We got our revenge for the slight caused by our lack of invitations as the rumor spread like wildfire throughout the school. Our Group laughed and laughed over that. Nancy sure got her's!
Fun times that memory.
* * *
Half dozing on my deck, a cloud drifted overhead and momentarily dropped the temperature a bit as I continued to let my past drift in front of my eyelids. Another more recent memory came to me. Just after graduating high school, I took a job at The Hangout, a local burger joint, for gas money. None of my friends worked there and I rarely talked to the other workers, but it was easy work.
The Hangout was old and maybe there was grease covering everything a bit, as happens at old burger joints. The picnic tables were darkened and had initials carved everywhere. There were always recent songs coming from the jukebox. The place was popular with the local crowd. It never lacked for customers. I liked that it was close enough to the high school that the girls would come in for lunch.
One day, I was appreciating the tempting aroma of grilling ground beef when Sam, a gangly teenager two years younger than me walked over and said, “Hey Albert. It’s your turn to clean the bathrooms.”
The ever-present Infidel was quick to whisper over my shoulder, 'Who died and left him in charge?'
Messenger Thomas also happened to be nearby and countered, 'It is fair for each to take a turn.' Thomas always spoke in a somewhat pompous and bored tone. It half occurred to me in a small corner of my mind that managing that tone with a barely heard whisper must have been the result of many years of practice.
'Superior people don’t take turns. That what Lesser’s do,' continued the Infidel.
I was used to these competing thoughts in my head. I rarely paid attention to the stodgy ones. The others were always more fun!
"Go suck a lemon," I told Sam. I had the habit of letting the other staff take care of the messy jobs while I handled the order window. That was where workers of my caliber belonged.
It seemed that Sam was going to follow up with another comment, but I just turned and walked to the registers. He could do the bathrooms, if he was so worried about them. No one else ever had such stupid suggestions.
My wife, Pam, interrupted my reverie as she came out on the deck to tell me, “Joe and Janice are here”
Actually, I had forgotten that they were coming over for dinner. I did not get up right away, my mind still reacting slowly while coming out of the fog of considering my memories.
“Come on, Hon,” Pam continued, starting to turn back to the house. “They are waiting in the living room.”
“Just give me a minute! I’m coming!!” I snapped. “And DON’T call me HON!”
“Sorry, forgot,” she demurred as she opened the screen door to go back inside to attend to our guests.
'She needs to remember her place,' the Infidel in attendance offered. Messenger Thomas was not around to counter this advice today.
Pam disappeared into the house, closing the door carefully and quietly behind her. After a couple of minutes, more to make the point that I was in control than because I needed the time to prepare, I rose from my comfortable chair and headed in after her.
Joe, slightly older than Pam and I, was a lean, good-looking guy with swept back curly dark blond hair. He was standing by the chair that his wife Janice was sitting in and talking as I came into the room. As always, I could not help but notice how attractive Janice appeared. She was at least five or six years younger than Joe, with the fresh good looks of a college girl-next-door. Her straight brown hair was caught up in a ponytail, and she was wearing a tennis outfit to match Joe’s white trousers and golf shirt, which showed her long legs to advantage. She looked very athletic.
I wondered briefly why Pam did not wear cute outfits like Janice. Her frumpy blouse with the tiny, flowered print and rounded collar, coupled with the light gray skirt down to just below her knees made her look older than her years.
Joe interrupted what, from the few words that I overheard, appeared to be a story about their vacation, to greet me as I came in. “Hey Albert. Good to see ya buddy. I was just telling Pam about our trip to San Diego.”
Janice lifted a glass of something cold, condensation forming around the outside, in a salute in my direction to acknowledge my arrival as well. Pam was sitting on the edge of the stuffed lounge chair as if attentive to Joe’s every word. I know that she liked both Joe and Janice a lot, and maybe Joe a little too much.
“We just got back from a long weekend trip,” Joe continued. “Right, love?” He added glancing at Janice.
“Oh yeah, Babe,” Janice chimed in. “It was so much fun. You two have got to come with us sometime. The food and the weather are amazing in So-Cal.”
“The sea bass in Mission Bay was fabulous,” Joe agreed. “Everywhere you turn, there are great restaurants to try.”
“The Serena at the Hotel Del Coronado had fish caught that very day! Wouldn’t you say the service was so continental, Baby?” Janice added, to which Joe agreed.
“Oh, it does sound wonderful,” Pam said. “We should go there too someday. Don’t you think, Hon?”
She did not notice the frown beginning to pull my brows together. The Infidel was quick to stoke the flames of my blossoming foul mood, “She just does not care what you think.”
Pam was getting more enthusiastic, and continued, “I’ve always wanted to visit the Hotel Del Coronado! Do you think we could do that this year, Hon?”
'She’s never going to stop!' the Infidel insisted.
I rose slowly, menacingly, to my feet, my gaze thunderously fixed on Pam. The room fell silent as everyone finally noticed my darkening mood.
“Woman!” I bellowed. “Why do you not LISTEN to me?”
Pam was unable to answer. Joe and Janice became suddenly interested in the arrangement on the coffee table, having learned the futility of trying to intervene in these scenes.
“I’ve told you a hundred times NOT to call me HON! My name is Albert.”
Pam stood quickly, her left hand lifting to cover her mouth. As tears began to show in her eyes, she turned and fled to the kitchen.
Joe also stood up and said, “I think we have to go pick up our laundry before they close.” Janice took the hint, also rising from the couch, and followed him out the front door. Paying them no attention as they made comments about ‘see you later’ and ‘let us know when you’re free’, I headed for the kitchen.
While Pam was seeking solace in the kitchen, somewhere, or maybe everywhere, Messenger Thomas was speaking with Messenger Miguel. Speaking was somewhat of a euphonism for their communication, which was not verbal, or transmitted via sound waves. Not existing on the ‘human’ plane, they had none of the five normal senses. It was more like thoughts that were in both their consciousnesses at once. Energy impulses that they both could detect and convert into information.
Thomas was saying, 'I need you to take the Albert assignment.'
'Of course I will help, if you think it best,' Miguel responded. 'I would not want to intrude.'
'After all these years, he barely notices my counsel. I have worked with him since he was a young lad, but he listens only to the Infidels. They cluster about him and inundate him with their evil innuendos and hints constantly.'
Miguel signaled with a soft flux of energy that he was understanding the problem, and that Thomas should go on. Thomas sent a synopsis of his entire interaction with Albert in an instantaneous burst of energy.
'Then I accept the Albert assignment,' Miguel said in formal tones.
Messenger Thomas nodded solemnly and winked out of wherever they were. Messenger Miguel gravitated to where Albert and Pam were continuing their confrontation.
* * *
When Messenger Miguel arrived at our kitchen, I was unaware of him, but there were three Infidels gleefully circling us, insinuating their vile suggestions into my thoughts as Pam and I faced off.
'She doesn’t respect you!' 'She doesn’t care what you want!' 'She thinks she is better than you!'
Pam was also getting feedback from the Infidels, 'You are nothing. He is everything. He makes the decisions.'
Almost unnoticed by us both as we continued, there was a brief flash of light, almost like the glint of sunlight off a passing windshield. We were also unaware that the Infidels who had been hounding us were suddenly not there. The volatile atmosphere of conflict between us seemed to cool a bit.
'This woman does not deserve your anger,' Miguel whispered into my ear. 'She ever tries to make you happy.'
As I faced Pam, my fury with her dissipated slightly, and I could not remember exactly why I was so upset. Pam, for her part, felt less despair. The couple looked at each other somewhat confusedly and then separated, me to my office and Pam to the bedroom.
I sat at my desk, staring at the items arranged on its surface, wondering why I felt a little lightheaded. Although I was still somewhat confused about what it was that we had been talking about, I also felt like a weight had been removed from me, from the house, from the very air. Something was much cleaner and lighter about life for a change.
'Why do you sit alone so much?' Miguel asked and I considered that thought for a moment.
'Why do you have no friends to visit you? Only Pam’s friends ever come over,' Miguel continued.
Miguel continued to pour whispered thoughts into my mind.
'Why do you anger so quickly?'
'Do you think that you treat others fairly?'
'Do you think other people like you?'
I was rocked with self-doubt for a few moments, but years of confidence that I was important and superior to others was not to be undone in a few minutes. Collecting myself, I went and joined Pam in the bedroom. We did not talk, but we seemed more in tune somehow, and we both fell asleep with our own thoughts.
* * *
The following morning at breakfast, the Infidels had returned and were up to their old tricks. As Pam made scrambled eggs, with ham and toast, I felt more and more weighed down by everything. The feelings of wellness from the prior evening were nowhere to be found now.
Once again, I started to take it out on my usual target.
“What is taking so long?” I asked. “I’ve been sitting here forever!”
“Just a minute more,” Pam replied quietly, recognizing the familiar direction of my tone, and trying to defuse the situation. “The eggs are almost the way you like them, and the toast will be done any moment.”
True to her expectations, the toast popped up with a click. Snatching it from the toaster, she quickly deposited it in front of me so I could butter it, while she went back to finishing the eggs.
“What’s this? Dry toast!” I asked, thinking that she was being lax.
Spooning the eggs from the pan to a serving bowl, Pam said distractedly, “There’s butter on the table there, and the jam is still in the fridge.”
“You think I should do everything?” I fumed, as I started to boil up into one of my frequent fits of rage.
Miguel suddenly became visible, glowing as bright as the noon day sun. The light filled every nook and cranny of the room and seemed to convey a slight comforting warmth as it completely dispelled the lurking Infidels.
“ENOUGH!” Miguel commanded forcefully. “This woman has borne enough degradation and belittlement!”
Pam and I gazed on Miguel with stunned expressions. Pam found her voice first, “An Angel!”
She was closely followed by me asking, “What is the meaning of this!? Who, what are you?”
“I am a Messenger,” Miguel, facing me, responded to my questions. “I am here to set your record straight!”
Pam and I just looked at each other, not fully comprehending what this glowing being was saying. At the same time, I could not help but notice that the warm light from Miguel shining on Pam’s face made her look wonderful.
“You have, for too long, thought only of yourself,” Miguel continued. “This woman loves you and thought that you loved her.”
“I do love her,” I stammered, my foul mood deflected by the implied accusation. “She’s my wife.”
“You need to examine your actions,” Miguel told me, and then a burst of memories flooded into my mind, but they had a different perspective from I had thought of them before. What I had thought was me getting what was my right, seemed selfish, and what I thought had been people thinking that I was popular and letting me have my way was not that at all. I could see now that I had bullied everyone I knew throughout my entire life. Miguel’s rendition of my past even included the interaction with the Infidels and Messenger Thomas.
“What?!?” I croaked. “Am I a bully?”
“Yes!” both Miguel and Pam said at the same time.
Miguel continued, “You have been being misled by evil Infidels to the point that you were not even able to discern what was you and what was not. We have been trying to get you to see that for years.”
“The Universe does not punish for honest lack of knowledge or mistakes. Now that you know, it is up to you to decide if you will change,” Miguel finished.
I was mortified. How could this be? I could not comprehend how I had been so blind! I did love Pam and could not believe that I had been treating her and everyone else so badly.
“I…I can change. I want to change. Pam, please forgive me,” I begged.
Afterword:
Pam’s, and to a somewhat lesser extent, Albert’s life became much better as their love rekindled. The Infidels did not bother them nearly as much since they had learned to ignore their taunts. Miguel occasionally dropped by to ensure that all was well, but never again made his presence known to them. They took the trip to San Diego that Pam had wanted and enjoyed their dinner at the Hotel Del Coronado. They even spent two nights at the hotel, using it as a base to tour the area. The new, reformed Albert began to gain new friends and did become more popular.
