yowling along with me.
Chapter Twenty-four
After I had cleaned up the glass, I made a mental note to call a handyman. I might have been able to fly to the moon and back, but I sure as hell couldn’t fix something like this.
As I sat back at the kitchen table, I got a text from Anthony. It was a close-up picture of his nose. Actually, it was a picture of the inside of his nostrils. It was kind of blurry. Under the picture were the words: Miss you, mama!
I wrote: Miss you, too, now go to bed.
Boo, he wrote. Then added: “ger”
Yes, booger. Go to bed. Tell your sister I love her.
Better yet, I would. I texted her cell phone directly, telling her I loved her and missed them. Her response was immediate: Anthony’s annoying me.
That’s all you have to say? I wrote back.
Well you know I love you, mom! Do I always have to tell you????
Yes.
Fine!! I love you! Better?!!?
Yes, so much better.
Gawd!!
I told her to go to bed, too, to which I didn’t receive a reply back. I sighed and turned my ringer off for a few minutes and got up from the table, found a pad of paper and a pen in my messy utility drawer, and sat back down.
I took in a lot of air, held it for a few minutes then expelled it slowly. I did this again and again, clearing my thoughts, ignoring my troubled heart. I continued doing this until I felt my hand jerk slightly. Followed by my whole arm, the pen began to move across the blank page as if on its own.
Three words appeared on the page before me: Good evening, Samantha.
“ Is this Sephora?” I asked aloud.
My hand jerked some more. Yes, Samantha.
“ It’s been a while since we last spoke.”
Yes.
“Does that bother you?”
I am here for you, Samantha, as I will be until time immemorial.
“You have nothing better to do?” I asked. It was meant as a flippant joke, but it came across as sort of rude to my own ears. “Sorry,” I added. “Didn’t mean that it way.”
My hand jerked, coming alive with small impulses of electricity. I watched in mild amazement all over again as my hand wrote seemingly independent of me.
You are the better thing for me to do, Samantha.
“ Now, that was a sweet thing to say,” I said. In fact, those words were exactly what I wanted to hear. I nearly broke down at their kindness, even though I wasn’t sure who or what Sephora was. But I powered through, fighting back the tears...after all, I had cried enough for the night.
A kind word goes further than you think, my hand wrote on its own volition.
“ I’ve heard that,” I said. “The Ripple Effect.”
Kindness is kindness, Samantha. It’s not a theory or an effect or a movement. It just is.
I thought about that, and I thought about the bitch living inside of me, the demoness, as I thought of her.
“ And what of her?” I said, knowing that Sephora knew my innermost thoughts, suspecting she was as close as I got to a guardian angel these days, since my own guardian angel abandoned his post nearly two years ago. “Do I show her kindness, too?” I added. “Perhaps let her take me over for all eternity, while I watch from the shadows, a prisoner in my own body?”
It is a grim picture you paint, Samantha.
“It’s a grim reality,” I said. “And, for the love of God, please don’t tell me to choose a new reality.”
I won’t, Sam, especially since you summoned in the love of God.
“Is that a joke?”
An observation. Love is a powerful tool. In fact, it’s your only tool.
“To beat her?” I asked.
To help her, Sam.
I blinked in the darkness, which wasn’t really darkness. All around me, like sunlight sparkling on ocean waves, glittered flashes of radiance. As always, within the radiance, I could see anything and everything.
I blinked again, and said, “Help her how?”
To move on, Sam.
“ Move on to where?”
There was a long pause and my hand remained motionless, finally I felt the tiny electrical impulses and watched as my hand
Chapter Twenty-four
After I had cleaned up the glass, I made a mental note to call a handyman. I might have been able to fly to the moon and back, but I sure as hell couldn’t fix something like this.
As I sat back at the kitchen table, I got a text from Anthony. It was a close-up picture of his nose. Actually, it was a picture of the inside of his nostrils. It was kind of blurry. Under the picture were the words: Miss you, mama!
I wrote: Miss you, too, now go to bed.
Boo, he wrote. Then added: “ger”
Yes, booger. Go to bed. Tell your sister I love her.
Better yet, I would. I texted her cell phone directly, telling her I loved her and missed them. Her response was immediate: Anthony’s annoying me.
That’s all you have to say? I wrote back.
Well you know I love you, mom! Do I always have to tell you????
Yes.
Fine!! I love you! Better?!!?
Yes, so much better.
Gawd!!
I told her to go to bed, too, to which I didn’t receive a reply back. I sighed and turned my ringer off for a few minutes and got up from the table, found a pad of paper and a pen in my messy utility drawer, and sat back down.
I took in a lot of air, held it for a few minutes then expelled it slowly. I did this again and again, clearing my thoughts, ignoring my troubled heart. I continued doing this until I felt my hand jerk slightly. Followed by my whole arm, the pen began to move across the blank page as if on its own.
Three words appeared on the page before me: Good evening, Samantha.
“ Is this Sephora?” I asked aloud.
My hand jerked some more. Yes, Samantha.
“ It’s been a while since we last spoke.”
Yes.
“Does that bother you?”
I am here for you, Samantha, as I will be until time immemorial.
“You have nothing better to do?” I asked. It was meant as a flippant joke, but it came across as sort of rude to my own ears. “Sorry,” I added. “Didn’t mean that it way.”
My hand jerked, coming alive with small impulses of electricity. I watched in mild amazement all over again as my hand wrote seemingly independent of me.
You are the better thing for me to do, Samantha.
“ Now, that was a sweet thing to say,” I said. In fact, those words were exactly what I wanted to hear. I nearly broke down at their kindness, even though I wasn’t sure who or what Sephora was. But I powered through, fighting back the tears...after all, I had cried enough for the night.
A kind word goes further than you think, my hand wrote on its own volition.
“ I’ve heard that,” I said. “The Ripple Effect.”
Kindness is kindness, Samantha. It’s not a theory or an effect or a movement. It just is.
I thought about that, and I thought about the bitch living inside of me, the demoness, as I thought of her.
“ And what of her?” I said, knowing that Sephora knew my innermost thoughts, suspecting she was as close as I got to a guardian angel these days, since my own guardian angel abandoned his post nearly two years ago. “Do I show her kindness, too?” I added. “Perhaps let her take me over for all eternity, while I watch from the shadows, a prisoner in my own body?”
It is a grim picture you paint, Samantha.
“It’s a grim reality,” I said. “And, for the love of God, please don’t tell me to choose a new reality.”
I won’t, Sam, especially since you summoned in the love of God.
“Is that a joke?”
An observation. Love is a powerful tool. In fact, it’s your only tool.
“To beat her?” I asked.
To help her, Sam.
I blinked in the darkness, which wasn’t really darkness. All around me, like sunlight sparkling on ocean waves, glittered flashes of radiance. As always, within the radiance, I could see anything and everything.
I blinked again, and said, “Help her how?”
To move on, Sam.
“ Move on to where?”
There was a long pause and my hand remained motionless, finally I felt the tiny electrical impulses and watched as my hand
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