Call for help

Call for help

Damn alarm’s going off. Fourth time this week. Legs out of bed. Throw on a robe, fumble for the lights. A curse or two. Into the kitchen. A drawer lying, a slice of beef on the floor. Sharp knife lying to the side.
Max catches his breath. Not a false flag. Sees the pink light flashing in the living room. Flight or fight? Maybe best action to run, call the police and don’t stop. Or man up. He works out. Five times a week, hour each day. Martial arts trained too. Breathes deep, steps inside and adopts zenkutsu dachi.
A blancmange of a figure lays sprawled on the couch. Puffy wings flap across the expanse and a glass of half drunk lemonade mixed with banana ice cream lays abandoned on the coffee table. The intrduer quite asleep. Max edges closer, fists clenched, looks to find his inner lion.
“Hey,” he says.
The figure replies with a snore. Max jabs the expanse of flesh with the point of his finger.
“Huh, what’s that,” she whispers.
“What the hell you doing in my house?” he says.
The corpulent angel straightens, yawns, casts her golden eyes on Max.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes aren’t you? Sorry for crashing out but last night was a tad wild. I needed a time out.”
The angel stood to her full magnificent height of nine feet. Max backed away. She reached for the milk shake and downed the contents. She rubbed her eyes and straightened her wonky halo. She checks her sundial.
“Oh Lord, I’m late again. Metatron is going to chew me out. Forgive my manners, my name is Briony and I’m here for you. I should have made that clear from the outset really.”
Max ponders the contents of the bottle of wine he sunk last night after training. His one treat after a solid workout.
“I have no idea what you’re on about. Are you telling me you’re some sort of what, er, angel?”
His voice croaks in a wheeze of preposterous mist.
“Of course you haven’t, I’ve not filled you in yet. And yep, your powers of observation are spot on. I’m an angel, well, trainee actually. Metatron has sent me to give you a hand.”
Briony’s cheeks flush. She found lemonade and banana often did the trick after a heavy session. Her aura radiates in a welcoming light and Max’s unease abates a touch.
“I haven’t asked for an angel.”
Briony shook her head and pointed at the alarm.
“Sure you did. Look what does that say?”
Max reads the stencilled writing describing Pink Angel Protection Systems: Radiant protection for everyday problems.
“It’s just an alarm system. I bought it off the internet.”
Briony nods, checks the wiring and tuts.
“Hand me that screwdriver over there. No wonder I struggled finding you last night, there’s a screw loose here.”
She cheers when a light whistle rings out after two sharp turns to the right.
“That’s better, now we’ve got a good connection. Come on Max, sit down.”
Max collapses into his armchair. His guest places her hand on his shoulder. Instant warmth flows through him. He dabs away a swathe of unexpected tears.
“Why on earth am I crying?”
“We unlock those hidden emotions of yours. You men, well, you lock up all those feelings. For goodness sake, you don’t have to be stoic, let them out.”
A new torrent of sobs and heartache escapes. His eyes raw from the effort. His body yearns to run yet the heat on his shoulder intensifies. He holds his face in his hands.
“There it is, that old son of a gun called guilt. Have you any idea how many times we’ve come across this scoundrel? Worse, is the one you’ve had inside you, self harm. Problem is you can’t even see it.”
“I don’t understand. I’m not guilty about anything. I’ve not committed any crime. I do things properly.”
Briony taps him on the nose twice.
“Max, stop lying to yourself. You can’t fool me, I’m an angel. I might be a cadet but I smell BS when I come across it. Now come on, think, what do you think this is really about?”
Estelle. God he misses her. The way they broke up, ridiculous. There he was laying into her about a job she applied for in Shoreditch. The money great. More than him.
“Yep, jealousy too. A potent mix if ever I saw one. Keep going.”
They argued. She asked why he never supported her. He turned it back on her. She never believed in him. They didn’t believe in each other. Yet they did. That was the folly of it all. They loved each other so much. Why did he break it off? Sheer hell, sheer bloody hell.
Briony sighs.
“Well done my lovely. Now, what are we going to do about it?”
Max shrugs, looks to his phone.
“It’s too late. She’s probably shacked up with someone new now, it’s was two months ago and she hates my guts.”
Briony taps him on the head with her wand. Well, not a grade A angelic wand, but a slender sliver of willow. Gets his attention though.
“What a lame excuse. You know that’s nonsense. I can tell you right now she’s done nothing but cry since you two dopes split up. Think for a moment, where do you think this is all going to leave you in say, a year’s time?”
Max rubs his skull.
“I don’t know, feeling sorry for myself I guess.”
“Amplify by a thousand Max and you’re not even half way there. You see, that fellow guilt and his mate jealousy lead you to the real villain called regret. Don’t you think you ought to do something ?”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s that thing over there by your hand?”
“Phone?”
Briony applauds. Metatron’s bound to pull her up over her sarcasm at some point.
“Yes, call her up.”
He hasn’t deleted her. Waves of noxious panic wash over him. His finger brushes the call button.
“Hi, Stell, just thought I’d call you. Yeah, miss you too. I’m sorry about that. Never should have happened. We should meet, you know, clear things up. That’s great. Tonight. Yeah, of course I can. Can’t wait.”
Max hangs up with no idea how those words came to him. He turns to Briony. Nothing there. Just one huge flamingo feather on the couch.

“Briony, what time do you call this? There’ five archangels up there waiting for you. Metatron is even more impatient than ever.”
“Sorry, Cathaniel, I had too many zambucas at Tony’s bar last night. Then I had an assignment to do , but I’m here now.”
Cath shook her head punched the top floor for the elevator. The arrow pointed up. Another day of ascension.