AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I think we should stop at a gas station and check," she said.
They drove on without speaking, listening to old songs on the radio. Chris knew that it wasn't necessary to stop at a gas station, because they were on the right road--even if the scenery around them was completely different from what they had expected. But she knew her husband well. Paulo was nervous and uncertain, thinking that she was misreading the map. He would feel better if they stopped and asked.
"What are we doing here?"
"I have a task to perform," he answered.
"Strange task," she said.
Very strange, he thought. To speak to his guardian angel.
"Okay," she said after a while, "you're here to speak to your guardian angel. Meanwhile, how about talking a bit with me?"
But he said nothing, concentrating on the road, thinking again that she had made a mistake about the route. No point in insisting, she thought. She was hoping they would come upon a gas station soon.
They had headed out on their journey straight from Los Angeles International Airport. She was afraid that Paulo was tired, and might fall asleep at the wheel. They didn't seem to be anywhere near their destination.
I should have married an engineer, she said to herself.
She had never gotten used to his life--taking off suddenly, looking for sacred pathways, swords, conversing with angels, doing everything possible to move further along the path to magic.
He has always wanted to leave everything behind.
She remembered their first date. They had slept together, and within a week she had moved her art work table into his apartment. Their friends said that Paulo was a sorcerer, and one night Chris had telephoned the minister of the Protestant church she attended, asking him to say a prayer.
But during that first year, he had said not one word about magic. He was working at a recording studio, and that seemed to be all he was concerned about.
The following year, life was the same. He quit his job and went to work at another studio.
During their third year together, he quit his job again (a mania for leaving everything behind!) and decided to write scripts for TV. She found it strange, the way he changed jobs every year--but he was writing, earning money, and they were living well.
Then, at the end of their third year together, he decided--once again--to quit his job. He gave no explanation, saying only that he was fed up with what he was doing, that it didn't make sense to keep quitting his jobs, changing one for another. He needed to discover what it was that he wanted. They had put some money aside, and had decided to do some traveling.
In a car, Chris thought, just like we're doing now.
Chris had met J. for the first time in Amsterdam, when they were having coffee at a cafe in the Brower Hotel, looking out at the Singel canal. Paulo had turned pale when he saw the tall, white-haired man dressed in a business suit. Despite his anxiety, he finally worked up the courage to approach the older man's table.
That night, when Paulo and Chris were alone again, he drank an entire bottle of wine. He wasn't good drinker, and became drunk. Only then did he reveal what she already knew: that for seven years he had dedicated himself to learning magic. Then, for some reason--which he never explained, although she asked about it a number of times--he had given it all up.
"I had a vision of J. two months ago, when we visited Dachau," Paulo said.
Chris remembered that day. Paulo had wept. He said that he was being called but didn't know how to respond.
"Should I go back to magic?" he had asked.
"Yes, you should," she had answered, but she wasn't sure.
Since Amsterdam, everything had changed. There were rituals, exercises, practices. There were long trips with J., with no defined date of return. There were long meetings with strange women, and men who had an aura of sensuality about them. There were challenges and tests, long nights when he didn't sleep, and long weekends when he never left the house. But Paulo was much happier, and he no longer thought about quitting his job. Together they had founded a small publishing house, and he was doing something he'd dreamed of for a long time: writing books.
Finally, a gas station. As a young Native American woman filled the tank, Paulo and Chris took a stroll.
Paulo looked at the map and confirme
d the route. Yes, they were on the right road.
Now he can relax. Now he'll talk a bit, Chris thought.
"Did J. say you were to meet with your angel here?" she asked hesitantly.
