Angel's Body

3. Pilgrimage-3

With the real world corporeal once again, I sighed and stood up. Nearly everyone was standing on the stage in a semicircle around the area where Gina had fallen. The guide was talking, yet I wasn’t paying attention to what was being said. After all, what could the guide tell me that I didn’t already know?

I was glad when it was finally time to leave. I was starting to feel a bit melancholy. I looked back at the stage one final time, a sad smile on my face, and said goodbye to my baby.

Gina and Dan were waiting for me outside the gates. I was the last one to leave. The security guard quickly closed and locked the gates behind me.

“Thank you, Helena, for your generosity,” Gina said.

“You’re her mother, aren’t you?” Dan asked. It was barely a whisper. I was sure Gina had not heard him, but I had.

“What makes you say that?”

“I watch people. I think I’m pretty good at figuring people out, and I watched you watching the video. I saw the way you looked at the studio as though you were seeing things we couldn’t,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Gina asked, a look of puzzlement of her face.

“Dan thinks I’m Gina’s mother,” I said laughing, but the sadness in my eyes betrayed me.

“You are,” Dan said firmly. “I can see it.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Okay, Mr Smarty Pants, how is it possible that I could be her mother?”

“Because she was an angel,” he whispered.

That caught me completely off guard. I expected him to say something like I held my age well, or that I must’ve had cosmetic surgery. How could he have known? Was he psychic?

I nodded my head and smiled. “She still is an angel.”

Dan reached over and wrapped his arms around me in an embrace I wasn’t expecting. This young man was full of surprises.

“Thank you,” he whispered in my ear.

I twisted my head to look into his eyes and saw the sincerity in his thanks, though couldn’t fathom what he was thanking me for. Giving Gina and Dan tickets to a studio tour was hardly worthy of this display of affection and gratitude.

“For what?” I asked.

“For sending Gina into the world.”

I thought my tears had all been shed. They came unbidden, along with a wave of sorrow and regret. Dan was thanking me for something I had not done, and had not wanted to happen. He was thanking the wrong person.

“I didn’t send her,” I murmured between sobs, “she came of her own accord.”

Gina wrapped her arms around both of us, trying to comfort me as I cried. They really were a sweet, young couple. I hoped they would have the happy ending they deserved, and that Gina’s mother found her peace.

“I have to go,” I said sadly. “Thank you.”

I kissed both of them on the cheek and simply disappeared from Dan’s arms, leaving Gina with her arms about him. They alone knew the truth. I didn’t feel the need to keep up the charade in front of them. No one else had seen me disappear from the midst of their arms. Even if they did try to tell the world about me, who would believe them?

I stayed in the lights as I dried my eyes, wiped my nose and made myself presentable. When I stepped out of the lights I found myself in a city I knew well — it had been my home for many years. I knew Gina had been here, from the memories she had gifted me. I wandered the streets looking for more signs. Someone had painted wings on the side of a building and I wondered if they were meant to represent Gina, but as there was no caption or comment I couldn’t be sure.

I headed downtown, towards the hospital district. Gina had frequented hospitals, so maybe I’d find something there.

I recognised one of the hospitals from Gina’s memories and made a beeline towards it. She’d visited some children here. In my mind I saw each step Gina had taken, so it was easy enough to follow her path. I stopped at the gift store — nothing out of the ordinary there — before heading up to the fifth floor.

I passed a woman with a little dog. There was something familiar about them. I stopped to look back at them, only to find the little dog was standing in front of me, wagging its tail furiously.

“You look like her, but you don’t smell like her,” the little dog barked.

I could understand what he was saying. It was then that I realised this was Jock, the little dog Gina had chatted to briefly on her way to visit the children in the cancer unit.

I didn’t want to talk out loud to him. People would think I was crazy. Instead I sent my thoughts in his direction. Hello, Jock. Yes, I do look familiar, don’t I, but we both know that I’m not the person you thought I was.

“You can hear me,” Jock barked, stunned at having met another person who could understand what his woofing actually meant. “You look like the lady who helped the little humans, but you don’t smell like her. Are you from the same litter?”

I laughed. We’re not siblings, if that’s what you mean. I’m her mother.

Jock’s tail drooped. He would have liked to thank the pretty lady for saving the children.

What’s the matter, Jock?

“I wanted to thank her, for saving the children,” he barked at me. “Would you please thank her for me?”

I’m sorry, Jock … Gina is dead, though I’m sure she knew you appreciated what she did, as much as you should know that she appreciated what you do.

“Could she not help you?” Jock woofed.

What do you mean?

“Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but your mouth doesn’t work. How do the humans hear you?”

I laughed quite loudly. What a funny little dog he was. His handler gave me a strange look.

“He’s an adorable little fellow,” I said to her.

“Yes, Jock is one of a kind,” she replied, proud of her little charge.

Jock wagged his tail. He understood now. I could talk to him with my thoughts, and to humans with my voice.

“Is it okay if I pat him?” I asked.

Jock ran around in a small circle, eager for the attention.

“Normally I’d say no,” his handler replied. “That’s usually reserved for the patients. He seems quite taken with you though, and will probably make the next ten minutes of my life miserable if I don’t let you.”

I kneeled on the floor and patted Jock’s head, all the while telling him I would have loved to have had a little dog like him. He was nicer than most mortals.

“Well, Jock, it’s time to go,” his handler said.

Jock gave my hand a quick lick before turning around to leave.

“Goodbye,” I said. “It was nice to meet you.”

Jock woofed his goodbye to me, wagged his tail and was off around the corner. He and his handler were the only ones I encountered whom Gina had met. There was nothing else in the here and now to indicate she had passed this way. It was only because she had gifted me her memories that I knew what had transpired here. I was grateful to her for such a precious gift.

There was no reason for me to stay. I headed towards the stairs. No one else was using them, so I decided to take the opportunity to disappear. In the lights I thought about where I might like to go next … the place Gina had first visited. Well, not exactly the first place she had visited, but the first town she’d visited. I didn’t really want to go to an Internet cafe.

I visualised an empty cubicle in the ladies at the local library. In an instant I was there, banging my elbow on the door, which was partially closed. Someone was washing their hands at the basins. She looked around to see what the commotion was, blinked and shook her head slightly. I wondered if she was thinking something along the lines of, I could have sworn there was no one else in here.

The library smelled wonderful. The rich aroma of old and new books mingled together to form a warm, inviting scent. Danny would have loved it. I walked along the numerous aisles, gently trailing my fingers along the spines of the books. Thousands of images flashed through my mind all the while, as if the books thought to imprint their stories on me, so they would be available for future reference.

I saw Gina talking to quite a few people, asking for book recommendations and chatting in general. She was so innocent and sweet — nothing like me at all really. I watched her memory replay the scene of the last person she chatted to in the library, before they left together, chatting all the while.

When the books had finished revealing their secrets to me I headed to the exit. As I was walking away from the library, in the direction of the park with the large pond Gina had visited, I heard someone behind me yelling out.

“Gina!”

I stopped and turned to look in the direction the voice was coming from, and saw an attractive young man, in his early to mid-twenties, running towards me. He pulled up in front of me, out of breath, and the smile dropped from his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said between hurried breaths, “I thought you were someone else.”

I knew this man from Gina’s memories, but of course he didn’t know that. I wondered if he was the one Natalie had been trying to draw out of Gina when she interviewed her.

“You knew Gina Malakh, didn’t you? You thought I was her,” I said.

“I didn’t really know her that well,” he confessed, abashed at his confession. “I met her once, in a library.”

I smiled. Gina could’ve found people in a desert storm to talk to and help. Why not a library?

“She had the same love of books as her father,” I mumbled.

The young man looked at me, confused. He’d heard me utter aloud what I was thinking. I’d really need to be more careful if I was to visit the many places Gina had been to. I didn’t want to draw too much unnecessary attention to myself. This was not about me, it was about Gina.

“Tell me about how you met,” I said eagerly. I wanted to hear his story, and find out what she’d done for him, from his point of view. I already knew Gina’s.

I extended my hand and smiled again. “Forgive me, I’m being rude. My name is Helena, and I,” I hesitated, though the feeling of rightness — there was no other word for it — was strong. I continued in a soft, low voice, “I’m Gina’s mother.”

The look on this young man’s face — John was the name I recalled from Gina’s memories — was priceless. He was too stunned to speak. I could almost hear his thoughts as he tried to work out how old I was, and how young I would have been when I had Gina.

I laughed gaily. There would be no tears with John, only happiness. There was something so utterly genuine and sincere about him. I imagined how different my life could have been if I had met someone like John as a mortal, someone who would have changed the course of my life. And yet I did not regret the paths I had walked, painful and sordid though they may have been, for they had led me to Danny, and given me Gina.

I smirked at John. “I hold my age well. It’s hereditary.”

John took my hand in his, not in a gesture of dominance. It was that of an equal — he held his hand to the side, and not on top of mine — with a certain amount of respect. His grip was firm, but not tight, his palm only slightly clammy, and he shook my hand gently.

“Pleased to meet you, Helena. My name’s John.”

I smiled at him. He was nice. This was definitely the young man Gina had wanted to kiss, and I could see why. He would have been perfect for her, if she’d lived.

“How about coffee?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. I’d find some way to hide the fact I couldn’t drink it. No big deal at all. If I could travel to hell and live to tell of it, coffee was a trivial obstacle.