Angels and Fog

Though he would forget to call her for years, Mitch always said Julia was his favourite niece. He knew he was her favourite uncle; he inspired her love of art, music and the absurd. She would find him in his time of need again and again without anything but aching in her gut; her gut was never wrong. In another life he imagined she’d be the one to catch him; in a life where he wasn’t all she had. He’d slide into one his local holes, or dealers’ and there would be a note. A simple post-it note from a very complicated girl. She’d send letters to new addresses and call on new phone numbers, always when he needed some sort of family the most. 

“You’re my guardian angel, you know that kitty-cat?” He never needed money, he wasn’t that kind of an addict, but she always knew exactly what he needed. Space, she’d give him  years of space, family she’d get anyone who would even consider it to give him another chance. In his absences the girl became a woman, the woman a mother and so on. Each new level unnoticed to him when she’d show up to clear the strangling fog. 

He was surprised to not see her there when he woke up from his induced coma, or anyone else but his trusty friend Mike. “Where else would he be”, he thought. Mitch supplied most of his drugs. 

“Hey, hey he’s up.” Mike ran out of the room like a buffoon, echoing down an empty hall, his large and oddly shaped limbs twisting with excitement. He couldn’t think clearly, his mind quaking, eyes fighting to focus, jaw pulsating, a nagging concern that he’d misplaced something he couldn’t remember anymore. Each pump of his chest needing to know where it’s breath was, what had they taken? A memory of a thing he had read in an old book he lost on a bench years ago; “Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.” He couldn’t remember the book or the author, just that in this moment it was true. He was a very clever man, smartest in his family by far. His brothers, as much as he once loved them didn’t understand intellectuals, they were drop outs, manual labourers. His sisters grew up to be wives with families and no time for the infused conversations of the world. 

Three weeks, he had been in a coma for three weeks; when he woke he visits from Mike were his only distractions from the feeling that he wasn’t really there anymore. Each time the second hand circled the clock his eyes watched it waiting for the melting, the room denied his golden dreams of time unwinding and continued to stagnate, hand circling, never stopping for a breath. Glossy white reflections of time bouncing from his eyes, ping pong back and forth, the fates stopped spinning but the clock kept turning its hands. Where was his life if it wasn’t flashing before his eyes? Was it stolen in the darkness, three weeks, 40 thieves in cave ripping fighting over his ecstasy. 

The fog refused to clear and the hands kept turning, where had his angel gone? He grew angry with her, her face almost unknown to him; how many years had it been? She must have known he was in the hospital, she always knew. It dripped, he was sure the hand let go of a small light drip, it was starting. She would find him soon. 

“Hey!” There she was, 20 years old and standing in his new girlfriend's bar on a side of town he never went to, Tiki-Bars were not his thing, but sexy Red-heads with money and their own bars were. 

“What are you doing here Kitty-cat?”

“I’ve been looking for you for a few weeks now.” He wasn’t surprised she always knew just when the shit went down. His house had caught on fire, lost just about everything. It started in his grow room. Arson. 

“Lisa, this is my niece Julia.”

“Niece?” She seemed cautiously optimistic. 

“Hi, nice to meet you Lisa,” Julia had a way to smile at people that could relax them instantly like no other drug he’d tried. “Could I steal my uncle here for a minute?” 

“Of course sweety,” quicker than heroin, “you two catch up.” Lisa floated from the room, unworried for the first time. 

“So, what name are you going by?” 

“Mitch, no last name.” He rarely used one, and did not have a business card. 

“Well that’s better than hey you,” she smiled, calm.

“What happened?”

“You know I don't know. Mindy and I got home and the place was on fire; we lost all the plants, most of the puppies and the whole studio.” He didn’t want to tell her that part.

“Dogs?”

“Long story, but insurance isn't covering it and Mindy kicked me out.”

“Out of a burnt down house?” She knew what he needed. 

“How did you know this time?” 

“I was in the bath, just you know.”

“My angel.”

“You staying with her?” Direct.

“I’m renting behind the bar right now but working on it,” he was proud as usual and she laughed so he assumed she was too. They caught up over beer, Julia was also not a fan of Tiki-Bars and cocktails. 

“Lisa, come sit with us.” Julia was always there for the extra run, “how has my uncle been treating you?” 

“Oh, he’s sweet. Can't believe I met him renting him that apartment,” Lisa was also his landlord. 

“You’re living in an apartment?” 

“Yea, just right there.” He pointed to the fire escape. 

“I suppose, you can afford to pay for two places.” Lisa looked pleased.

“I can, I won't be able to spend any time in The Dominican next month but I’ll be on vacation again next year.” 

Every-time, for the win! That night he moved in with Lisa, sublet his apartment for more and rode it out until he moved on to the next hussel and the next woman. 

The hand kept turning but not another drip. Not another shimmer of the unwinding or a whisper of an angel. Just the white of the clock and the longing for a book he couldn’t remember; not the name, not the cover and not the man who wrote it just the feeling he needed to rifle through pages looking for the answer to a statement. He called his brother.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” who is this?

“Dan, how come no one came to the hospital. I almost died.”

“You didn’t want any part of this family, no one has heard from you in 3 years. How would I know you were in the hospital?”

“Julia, what she didn’t know?” There was nothing, empty air. “Hello!”

“She died last year Dan.” Her father hadn’t cried in months and he wasn’t going to for Dan. “Hold on.” Drip. “She said if you ever came by to give you this, it's just a piece of paper. It says, “If we could truly see ourselves the way others see us we’d disappear on the spot.” -CIORAN” Click.

“It wasn’t a book.” Drip, drip and the hand unwound.