Ethereal Expedition

Semiramis waited patiently for her turn; after all there is no more virtuous being than a Guardian Angel, is there? She sat, hands folded, posture straight, luminating smile; all consistent with the proud feeling of being chosen. Pride, not as much a sin as it once was, considering it was perfectly acceptable and quite encouraged to take some pride in this type of work, God’s work. Oh, but the word still sat heavily with Semiramis as she searched for a more appropriate, holy, angelic descriptive, honor, yes honor. She was honored to be selected; to be assigned; to be considered worthy of the miraculous. Her smile widened with every lovely moment she spent in the Hallowed Hall. She allowed herself to wonder; would she usher a new life into the world, maybe escort a soul out? Is there a human in crisis, dire for divine intervention? Oh, the possibilities to bestow her recently granted heavenly gifts upon the worthy. Her excitement was almost too overwhelming to contain as Semiramis patiently waited to be called into supreme service. 

The everchanging Hallowed Hall was home to the alembicated Akashic records, or the divine documentation of all that is, was and ever will be destined on Earth. The continual pulse throughout, guided each new etching into place as mortal free will perpetually directed the recordings into their rightful places, writing, and rewriting individual recipes for each fateful soul. Seated amidst this delicate dance, Semiramis became mesmerized with inspiration; so much so, she nearly missed the melodious call of her own name. “Semiramis?” Her heart leapt with elation; it was her turn. The Angel Almajara, current delegate of charges presented Semiramis with her first earthly entrustment. “I am confident in your ability to reconcile mother and daughter without incident.” 

Semiramis reached for the printed scroll containing every detail she was to study before her temporary earthly transformation. She skimmed the divine directive, noting the apparent conflict. “I see.” she began, “Although the chasm between has formed deep and wide, I have love on my side.” Pleased with her optimism, Almajara confidently sent Semiramis down to Earth to meet her charges with a few guiding words. “You’ll be known to humans as simply, Mira. You will find yourself adorned with a gold cross suspended from a chain around your neck. This is the source of your infinite power and will grant you every advantage when navigating the human experience. Your essential objective is to guide mother and daughter toward one another, threading the intimidatingly wide gap that has developed between them. Remember, you are never alone; just say a prayer and it will be granted in the name of all that is good and holy.” 

In less time than the flutter of her eyelashes, Mira found herself in the year 2024 standing on the sidewalk in front of a dilapidated duplex somewhere in south Jersey with a single key dangling from a plastic flip flop in her hand. “This must be the place.” She felt heavy and awkward as she stepped closer to the door, hopefully intended for the very key she turned over in her right hand. The earth’s gravity bore down, momentarily causing Mira to stumble and stomp up the wooden stairs. The flush of embarrassment in her cheeks felt foreign; she touched her cross and adjusted. A sudden slamming sound startled Mira soliciting a squeal and an involuntary jump to her left; this human thing would take a little getting used to. A young woman hastily emerged from the right side of the duplex. “Hey, sorry.” she offered, noticing Mira’s jolting response to her dramatic exit. She was pretty in her own right. Purple and green streaks adorned her raven black hair. Blue-gray mica smudged her eyelids and lined underneath making her amber eyes stand out, reminding Mira of a cat. Her jeans fit well, evading the foolish trends of too loose or worse, too tight. She paired her jeans with a plain black top and a rather smart plaid blazer. Mira admired her aesthetic and reached for her cross and the knowledge of how to respond appropriately. 

“Hey, I’m Mira.” she offered. “I’m your new neighbor.” 

“Cool. I’m Kat. Nice to meet you.” She said, turning around and walking backward down the sidewalk as she spoke. 

Mira waved. “See you around.” 

Kat disappeared around the corner and Mira ventured into her side of the duplex. It was subpar at best, smelling of mildew and covered in dust, but there were basic necessities packed in boxes strewn about, clothing, dishes and the like. She ran her forefinger over her cross altering her new surroundings just enough for comfort without seeming indulgent; for gluttony was even worse than pride. She breathed a sigh of satisfaction just as a knock came to her door. “Hello, is anyone home?” 

“Yes, please come in.” Mira politely responded, as if she could react any other way. 

“Hi, I’m Erica. My daughter and I live next door. I’m not sure how I missed you moving in, but I wanted to welcome you and offer my help if you need it.” 

Mira sensed some insincerity in Erica’s offer but chose to ignore it for the time being. It was imperative she got to know both mother and daughter if she had any chance of a successful intervention. “Lovely to meet you both. I ran into your daughter a few moments ago, almost literally.” 

“Oh, pay her no mind, she’s a tough nut, that one, so full of herself, never thinking of anyone else.” 

Mira felt the cheek flush again, “She seemed very polite and friendly.” 

“It’s all an act; you know how teenagers can be. I’m sure you were the same way not too long ago. I bet you gave your mother many grey hairs growing up, didn’t you?” 

Erica’s continued antagonistic and accusing tone spoke volumes in regard to the family dynamic. Whether Kat was indeed troublesome or not, accountability was needed from both mother and daughter. Mira felt a sense of calm and control wash over her as she miraculously delivered the first part of her message. “We all have tough nut tendencies at times, don’t we?” 

“Girl, you don’t know the half of it. Anyway, just give a shout if you need anything. I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.” Erica seemed disappointed as she exited Mira’s humble apartment and returned to her own. 

Mira dropped to her knees and prayed for continued clarity before readying herself for bed. She found great joy in lying on her thrift store sofa watching mindless television sit-coms and outlandish commercials visually soliciting everything from mattresses to matzo ball soup. “Is this sloth?” she inquired aloud. Almajara’s euphonic voice filled the air, “Worry not little Angel, your human body and mind need to rest. Sloth you will never be as time is limited before your energy is again directed toward your precious charges. Now, go to the door and get to work.” 

Semiramis opened her front door just as Kat called for her, “Mira?”

“Hey Kat, what’s wrong?”

“I’m ten minutes late and my mother has locked me out. May I come in?” 

Mira opened the door and welcomed her new neighbor. “Of course.”

“You’re not a psycho, cannibalistic serial killer, are you?”

 Guardian angel Semiramis found the irony amusing. “No, I give to charity, and I also recycle.” she teased.

The seventeen-year-old appeased her host with a gratuitous giggle. “You seem really normal. If my mother finds out you saved me, she will probably make your life a living hell.” More irony. Mira’s intentional silence encouraged Kat to continue. It was easy to confess to a stranger with no expectations or judgement, and the words spilled from her heart, filling the room with unrequited emotion. “If I could only go back in time to when my mother was my age, I could figure out a way to connect with her. She thinks I have it so easy and from what I know about that time in history, she was the one with advantages.” 

“When did your mother graduate from high school?” Mira inquired, already possessing the information. 

“1985” 

“If I could transport you to 1985, what would you expect to see?”

Kat played along, “My mother, living in a true to life John Hughes movie, I suppose.” 

“Let’s find out, shall we? If you believe in Angels, then simply reach for my hand.” Mira extended her right arm and turned her palm up, open and inviting. Kat instinctively took her hand without hesitation or inquiry. Mira reached for her cross with the other and instantaneously fell back in time to the week before Erica’s high school graduation, taking the curious Kat along with her. 

They stood, still hand in hand in front of a high school facing a large courtyard, which they later learned was affectionately referred to by the students as the back patio. Music blared from an absurdly large radio propped in the corner of the three-foot-high brick wall designating the area. Students milled around sucking on cigarettes and sucking down cans of Diet Coke. Intentional graffiti, reading HollyRock High graced the far wall while individual bricks were outlined with white spray paint and the words “The Wall” sloppily lettered in the bottom left corner hanging askew and with seemingly no purpose. The parking lot to the left resembled a classic car show, littered with Camaros and Trans Am’s, Novas, Chargers and GTO’s. Acid wash jeans were all the rage, and the girls wore theirs baggy and the boys wore theirs tight. Feathered hair was not gender specific, nor the obvious brassy blonde highlights one could only achieve with peroxide and lemon juice, held in perfect place by ozone eating aerosol spray and pipe clogging gel-based product. Kat wondered how her mother could object to the current gender-neutral norm when it was challenging to distinguish the boys from the girls back then. 

“There.” she informed Mira, discreetly gesturing toward her mother’s eighteen-year-old self. Her hair, too high and make-up too dark. Her bright pink earrings, entirely too big and her shirt much too tight. Kat was appalled, not for the unfortunate fashion trends of the time but for her mother thinking she was “bitchin’."

“Oh, you can point; they can’t see us. We are only here to survey and determine.” Mira assured Kat. 

“Cool, Dickens meets Hughes.”

The references eluded her, and Mira continued her clarification, “We can walk through an entire day in the life of teen Erica, but we cannot alter what has already been recorded in the Hallowed Hall.”

“What?” Kat furrowed her brow.

“Nothing to be concerned with yet. Your assumptions will be confirmed or repudiated by our observations alone. Either way, you’ll have insight that will aid in your understanding of your mother. Kat, may I ask why you took my hand so willingly?” 

“I would do anything to right the wrong that is my relationship with my mother. I suppose my resolve is in my faith.” 

“Excellent answer.”

The day progressed and Kat witnessed a carefree Erica faking her way through her classes, deceiving her friends, belittling the unpopular and relentlessly seeking the attention of the opposite sex. After her last class Erica stopped a boy walking to his car and asked him for a ride. “Hey, can you drop me at the mall, I’m late for work.” she asked. His response was alarming, “Yeah, what’s your name?” She answered and he told her to hurry and get in. 

Kat turned to Mira, “She didn’t even know him!” 

“This is the first but not last encounter they have. I’m going to suggest we venture into the mall prior to your mother. Kat, she shows her gratitude for the ride in a very intimate manner.”

“Mira, is that weird guy my father?” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Oh, just eww. Let’s go inside.” 

One hundred and ten individual parcels, selling and servicing, and every high school student in the entire town crammed themselves in the tiniest of spaces. Neon hung above the narrow opening of the arcade; the illumination spelling out Game Room. Strobing light and random bits of sound spilled out into the main corridor tempting the few stragglers into the lair of mindless amusement. Kat marveled at her mother managing to collect a paycheck for standing around talking to her friends, occasionally picking up the same pair of jeans, unfolding and refolding in order to appear as though she were actually earning her keep. It mattered not if she were to be fired, as the black and red plastic Help Wanted signs graced nearly every window in the mall. Opportunity was abundant for the average teenager back then, and anyone with a pulse could collect minimum wage with minimum effort. 

The real eye opener came for Kat after the mall closed and yet another gathering of teens accumulated quickly in the far corner of the empty parking lot. Drinking, smoking, singing, flirting and fogging up car windows was the preferred form of entertainment on a school night in the eighties prior to the implementation of any personal technology. They spoke, yelled, sang, insulted and professed their infatuations face to face and dramatically dealt with their successes and failures; their triumphs and embarrassments as if stripped naked in front of a crowd without the luxury of cowering behind a keyboard and screen. They communicated with bold confidence, or was their assuredness and ease merely perceived? 

 By midnight the mall mob began to disperse and by 1 a.m. they had all gone crawling back into the night, into their homes, into their beds, preparing to do it all again the next day, and Erica was no exception. Nary a nightlight shone as Kat watched her mother unlock the front door and step inside of her darkened childhood home. She crept down the stairs, into her room and quietly closed the door. No one noticed, no one cared, no one reprimanded or even came out to ask if she had eaten. Erica expected nothing more than nothing as she crawled into bed and passed out. 

“Ready?” Mira asked, once again extending her hand for Kat; confident she had accomplished what she set out to do as Kat’s tear-filled eyes illustrated the empathy Mira hoped would manifest from their divine expedition. 

“She was truly left to her own devices. How can I expect love, support, and guidance from someone who had never been loved, supported or guided herself? I’ve been unfairly hard on my mother. Mira, I can fix this, can’t I?”

“Of course you can. You have the power to not only change your life, but the course of your relationship with your mother, ultimately enriching her life as well.” 

“I think that all sounds rather ambitious.”

“Not for a future Guardian, Katerina. You are destined for the miraculous, so you may as well start now. Your faith is strong; simply say my name and I will be sent back to you. I am your guardian, not only tonight, but throughout your time here on Earth. 

Kat took a moment to appreciate Semiramis’ words. “Thank you for the experience. I am by no means ungrateful, but please answer this one question before you take your leave; will I ever have to visit the eighties again?” 

“Not unless you want your MTV.”