Divine Intervention

The man was softly gliding down Washington Avenue, his face expressionless, oblivious to the cool beauty of the sunset or the gentle sweetness of the air.

All around him, in contrast to his own graceful glide, people were rushing and running, wildly swinging their briefcases and purses—step-swing, step-swing—as if their lives depended on a mad and frenzied commute home to their families. The man, floating softly fifteen inches above the ground, cast a distant look of overpowering superiority over the ant-like mortals. His body, as it passed the unsuspecting inhabitants of one of the more populated parts of New York, covered the city with an invisible dark veil.

No one knew it, yet the man’s presence already affected everyone in the sprawling metropolis.

People passed him by, not looking at him, not raising their heads. They couldn’t see him, yet the more sensitive of them may have felt his subtle presence amongst them by the icy chills running down their spines. Looking at their bare arms, undressed by the warmth of the Indian summer, they may have seen ghost-scare goose bumps appear. The memories of those passed away may have even momentarily flashed before their eyes. But no one gave it more than a mere thought. It was New York. The tired Wall Street brokers in expensive suits, business men and women, straight-backed and self-important, Indians, dressed in worn saris and shabby turbans, short bald Jews, mincing to get home before sunset to celebrate Shabbatt, homeless on the streets, thin hippies, leaning against the walls, swinging to some internal beat of a trip... they all, all alike, were too busy to notice, to pay attention to the icy sweat appearing on their foreheads or the sudden weakness in their legs, to notice the danger befalling them.

"Now, to collect some unpaid debts," the man thought, a sly smile dancing on his down-curved lips, and crossed the street.

In front of him lay the city park, an oasis of green among the gray and ashen tones of the stone city. Noiselessly, the man was creeping down a windy trail. The chrysanthemums, spread out widely by his path, may have seemed to bow their beautiful ivory heads to him in reverence, yet in looking closely, one could see them wilting away as his dark shadow crossed over their frail stems. The birds in the birches above, sensing the veil descending over them, abruptly ended their gay tunes that had thus far enchanted the frail taciturn beauties, and flew off, seeking a safer location for their tireless chorus. A young female eagle-owl protectively put her wing over the little fledgling, mindlessly opening his mouth next to her in the nest.

The man floated on, until he reached the lake in the very nucleus of the park. The sun hid in the soft depth of the horizon. He was on time, always on time.

Sitting on a bench by the lake, throwing crumbs of bread to the swans, were a sad young woman and a chattering youth of about twenty five. In appreciation of such attention, the swans circled the couple’s feet, gracefully bowing their heads to the youthful lovers.

"Ester Mercés and JB Hurter," the man checked mentally. "Well, on with the show." His body dangled with silent laughter, adrenaline spreading through the ancient muscle tissue. He had been waiting long for this day.

With an owner’s eye the man examined the couple. JB was talking unceasingly, laughing, and making big gestures to emphasize his points. Ester was on the contrary quiet, weakly smiling every once in a while at JB’s lively patter. Their eyes, however, were what struck the man the most. There was so much sadness in them, so much suffering.

"Humans," the man thought, a smile dangling on his lips, "how much suffering they do invoke upon themselves." As if overjoyed at the thought, he roared in laughter.

Ester’s eyes stared blankly at the lake. It didn’t matter to her that it was beautiful, that the light breeze was causing thin ripples, distorting her image in the water, that the few fallen leaves lay lifeless, only rarely shivering in the wind, that nature was calmly at peace with itself, for she was not, and nothing else mattered. No, not the birds’ vivacious singing, nor the emerald, shuffling mass above her, nor the leaves’ harmonious chant, could make her notice, wake up from her sorrowful dream. The beauty of nature was at its fullest, the water chiming softly, hitting the rocks, and then descending down into the lake with silly giggles, jingling like crystal bells, but water was only tears in Ester’s eyes, and the nature’s festival of quiescence and beauty could not lessen her own grief, no more than singing of the immortal could revive the dead.

The eagle-owl took off to look for food for her sibling. She flew over the lake, her smart eyes curiously looking down at the couple.

Her time was due today, Ester thought, her heart beating faster. What if He didn’t show up?

"He will," she reassured herself and yet her eyes automatically looked at her watch. There must have been a glitch—it was showing 6:66. Nervously she took it off and shook it, but her thought wandered, and the watch fell on the ground, its delicate silver frame contorting at impact. JB didn’t notice.

She thought of seeing Ray again, a wonderful thought, were it not followed by a familiar sharp needle of pain, piercing her brain. She knew she wasn’t supposed to think about these things, about him, but it was so hard. Impulsively she looked at her wrist again. On no, the watch... It was a watch that Ray had given her, then, when he was still alive... The pain returned.

"Shouldn’t be questioning me, Ester," a voice in her head said, mockingly. Quickly she turned around. "Yes, I did come, as I had promised." She couldn’t see him, but he was here, she knew. She sighed again, but now with relief.

"Where are you?" she cried out, her soul filling with newfound hope.

"Ester, my little Ester, I am right here," the voice was teasing again. "You can’t see me, my beautiful little Ester, and I’d expect you to remember that from last time."

Ester did not want to remember last time. She was afraid the piercing pain would yet again overcome her, but as her curious thought gently probed the forbidden subject nothing happened. "You can think about it now, little one. I allow you," the voice dictated, and then after a short pause, "in fact, do think about it, Ester. Do! Remember! I command you to!"

The thoughts and memories flouted at Ester’s mind. Three years ago... Oh, it seemed like it was yesterday. And He, He had saved her from killing herself, from suicide. "Thank you," she murmured in deep gratitude and heard a light chuckle back. He must have been the Lord himself.

"When can I see him?" her eyes asked the silent question.

"Didn’t take you long to forget all about JB, did it, my dear?" the voice laughed.

JB? He was right, she forgot all about him. "JB," she cried, turning to where he was sitting. "I have to tell you... You must understand..." Her voice traveled off. He wasn’t there.

The voice laughed. "It was all part of the deal, Ester. Aren’t you glad? By the way, about that question—you can see him whenever you like. Whenever you like, my dear. Call him and he’ll come. He’s been waiting for you, you know."

Ester could feel her heart beating faster and faster. She was going to see him again. Alive. She pinched herself. No, she wasn’t asleep.

Alive. She had lost him, three years ago to a drive-by shooting. It was her fault that he died, of course. When those guys attacked her in an alley she cried for help. Oh, how stupid that was. So they would have raped her... It wouldn’t have been half as big a loss as it was losing Ray. Of course he rushed to her aid and saved her life. But how could she have known then... How could she have known that they would pay him back? It was no accidental drive-by shooting. It was all her fault. He died because of her.

The eagle-owl baby looked out of his nest, his foolish eyes full of curiosity. All that chatter down, beneath the tree... And where had his mummy gone, anyway? "Gotta look for her," he thought, carefully lifting one skinny leg out of the nest. He was old enough; he’ll go look for food himself.

"Ester," the man called her impatiently. Yes, it was just like that time. She was standing in her room, holding a gun at her temple. The cold metal made her shiver all over. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Two years together. Their wedding was supposed to be in a month. Her life was over anyway, she might just as well end it like this.

In her right hand was a nine-millimeter Italian Beretta, the same gun that Ray had been shot with—they dropped it as they saw him fall to the ground. She had picked it up. The same gun that was responsible for Ray’s death would take her life, too.

And then, that same voice in her head, calling, "Ester." She was so surprised, she nearly dropped the gun. "Calm down," the voice said soothingly. "There is no need for such foolishness." Even as she was thinking about it now, Ester could feel her finger tighten as it had then on the trigger. But the gun miraculously slipped out of her hand and she felt herself thrown brutally onto the bed, temporarily paralyzed.

"Now," the voice then said patiently, yet with a slight edge in it, "just what would you do to get Ray back?"

"Anything," came her quick and desperate response. Her voice shook, as did the rest of her body. Her cheeks were all flushed up and hair unbrushed; she hadn’t been out of her room in a week. But after having lost Ray none of this mattered, none of it.

She could remember it all so vividly, it sent chills through her body. Even that slight itch on her nose from a tear trail that she couldn’t scratch as she was immobile on the bed. It didn’t seem to matter then, though, as it did now. Then, she didn’t care that she was talking to a voice in her own head or that Ray was dead and that no one, not even the Devil himself, could bring him back. It was the tiniest and only thread of hope that she had and she rushed to grab it.

"Here is the deal," the voice chattered on convincingly, "you work for me for three years and I’ll return to you your precious love. A good deal! And do consider your other options--the only other thing you could do is put that gun back in your mouth and pull the trigger. C’mon, what’d’ya say?"

He was right--there were no other options.

"What do I have to do?" Ester whispered, choking on tears.

"Only a small favor. Nothing big, really. Well, you know, let’s just say, you’ll be my little helper." For a second Ester thought she heard a note of sarcasm, but it was probably nothing.

"You’ve got the prettiest little face I’ve seen in a while. Don’t ruin it by crying, baby. Ray won’t like you if you do."

The voice was soothing, though Ester had little idea what it was talking about. Her head was spinning, her thoughts scattered. Where was Ray? Why wasn’t she with him?

Ester believed him, believed him because she had nothing else to believe, because he was right—she had no other choice. Yes, he could bring Ray back to her and she would do anything for him in return.

"All right," she said, her hands turning into sweaty icicles. She rubbed them against each other to warm them up, but it didn’t work. At least she had reobtained control of her body. She sat up on the bed, her hands between her thighs.

Was there such a thing as a right or a wrong answer? Was she making a mistake. No, this was going to make her happy. As her hands got warmer she gradually became more sure of her decision.

"Good," the voice rang in her head. "There are three conditions. First, you may never laugh in the course of the three years. Never. Second, you may never think about this life. And finally, third, you will seduce men, make them fall in love with you, make them want to marry you, and on the wedding day you will leave them. Is that clear?"

"But, why?" Ester looked perplexed, but the voice cut her off, "that, my dear, is none of your precious business. You should now stop wasting time and get to work. Chop, chop."

Ester stopped her torturous reminiscence. The last three years... Years of such intense pain, such horrific suffering... Who could have known that it would hurt that much to hurt others. Ten young men... She still remembered all their names. She could still see their hurt faces. Although she could distinctly see each one, they were all the same with that miserable grieving look deep in the recesses of their eyes. She knew that look well—it was the same look she’d seen in her own eyes, when stealing an unintentional glimpse in the mirror, the same look she had had just a few moments ago, before she knew that He would keep his promise.

At least now she would be happy. She laughed out loud—oh! how good it felt to be able to laugh again! Laughter... she never appreciated it when she had it, and she never thought she could miss it, not at least after Ray’s death, but even at those rare times during the past three years when she actually wanted to laugh, she couldn’t squeeze out even a tiny giggle.

Oh, but now she would be happy. Now, she will get Ray back!

"Ray, Ray, where are you?!" she cried out, her voice filled with hope and life. "Ray..."

"I am right here, Ester," a sad voice behind her answered her joyous prayers.

"I can fly right over to the next tree," the eagle-owl fledging thought, as he opened his thinly feathered wings and leapt. "I’m flying, I’m flying," went through his young mind, as he was falling down the twenty-foot tree.

Ester exclaimed as she saw her lover again, alive. Running towards him, she threw her arms open in expectation of his long awaited embrace. She remembered how good it felt to be in his arms, remembered his smell—it was a very particular smell, the smell she loved and longed for. She remembered his eyes, a beautiful shade of green-gray, sparkling the way only his eyes did, warmly with love and deep care for her. Even ten feet away, she could already almost feel her body wrapped in his big muscular arms.

She looked up to see that warm familiar expression but was met with a cold stare that stopped her half-way in her tracks.

"What’s wrong?" her eyes asked the silent question. She felt a clog forming deep in her throat. "Please, please tell me what’s wrong," they begged.

But he was silent, his melancholy eyes cast down, unwilling to meet hers.

Ester’s world felt as empty as the galaxy. She felt as though enveloped in a block of ice. She could neither speak nor move. Only her eyes looked pleadingly at him, for at this moment he encompassed her universe, and on him alone her fate now rested, any happiness that she might ever perceive in the future, any possible joy... Oh, this couldn’t be! With everything she’s done, with everything she’s gone through for him... he simply couldn’t leave her now!

"Oh, I know exactly what you’ve gone through," Ray spoke coldly, returning her thought, and this coldness was worse than any sarcasm or anger could ever have been. " I have seen it all. ‘Been there with you all the way."

Ester listened, her breath frozen in her lungs.

"When I died, He came to me with a deal. I couldn’t refuse."

He, Ester thought, rashly. It couldn’t have been He.

"The deal was," Ray continued gravely "I’d have you for the next three years and then... then I’d lose ability to feel, every ability to hurt or love."

Ester was looking up at him, wide-eyed.

"I was every one those ten guys whose lives you’ve so dispassionately ruined. You took away all my three years of happiness with you. And now, after three miserable years, my time is finally up—I have no feelings towards you, Ester, not towards you, not towards anyone. I can’t ever be sad again. I am truly grateful, for He gave me that which many seek for years--the ability to feel no pain. No happiness and no suffering. I am now free, Ester," he calmly concluded, his every word, grains of salt on Ester’s wounded heart.

Fierce tears were rolling fast down Ester’s cheeks. Her body was on fire now. From icy pale she now turned strawberry red. Words, incoherent and useless, poured out like an endless stream, but there wasn’t anyone to listen.

"It doesn’t matter anymore, Ester, don’t you see," Ray interrupted her sorrowful plea. "I’ll do my promised service to Him now. Farewell ," he said his final cold words and dissipated into the turquoise cloud, now lying heavily over the park, its fat sides hanging off the edges, like a plump lady on a stool.

The sky turned black and rain started pouring, one large droplet after another, covering the ground with translucent sparkles, glistening in the grass, on the bench, little diamonds covering the earth with their bright glisten. Immediately the air became fresher. There was that certain coolness that only comes in very cold weather or during a rain. The lightning carved the sky in two and in a flash put it back together. Ester licked her cracked lips and felt the bitter taste of electricity. The thin birches wildly shook, their leaves flying off in each and every direction at the sudden gust of the wind, swirling through the park. The swans, bowed their heads, conforming with each other, and took off, their long necks stretched out, their strong wings beating against the thick air.

Ester ran. She wasn’t sure where she was running, whether she was trying to catch her slipping happiness, maybe Ray... She didn’t know. She ran. Wind was blowing in her face. Branches tore her arms. Ester saw nothing, felt nothing. Only in her soul was there an outcry of anguish and pain, only her heart was aching. She slipped on a puddle and fell face down into the mud. And there she lay, for what would have been the point getting up. In the distance an eagle-owl could be heard, crying for her lost baby.