An Unexpected Summer Complaint

by Charles C. Cole

High school English teacher Bastian Eastman summered on a peaceful corner of Highland Lake. Beyond his house, to the right, the lake shriveled to a narrow, twisting creek which fed the waterway and was in fact its lifeblood. The benefit of hiding in the end zone was that it was also shallow and weedy, a natural deterrent to loud motorboats. This was the quiet section, the way Bastian liked it.

Maine is a roomy state in which to build a home unless you live on waterfront property, then the house-lots are often significantly smaller and neighbors don’t let technical things like property lines get in the way of social interactions.

The building lot to the left of Bastian, toward the open water, was small for traditional construction, so he’d long enjoyed a bit of extra elbow room, until late one night when someone unexpectedly parked an RV a literal stone’s throw from his front door.

In the morning, Bastian stepped onto his porch with a soothing mug of coffee, encountering early morning mist and the jarring sight of a new neighbor, a mere forty feet away, exiting a rent-a-potty, in a knee-length white fleece bathrobe and khaki shorts, waving away fumes like they were aggressive mosquitoes.

“Good morning and God bless,” called his neighbor.

“Hey.”

“When nature calls, you gotta answer, am I right?”

Bastian, not a fan of surprises, smiled as if to inoculate himself from being snappy.

“Do I smell coffee?” asked his neighbor. “I would die for a cuppa, if you have a spare mug lying around. I just landed last night and I don’t know where anything is.”

“Landed?”

“Parked. You can tell I need coffee.”

Give him the coffee and he’ll go away. “How do you drink it?”

“Black’s fine. Like yourself, I’m a fan of the simple things.”

“Give me a minute,” said Bastian, backing away and closing the door behind him. When he returned, the neighbor was seated at the small table on his deck.

“Quite a view! I made myself comfortable,” said the stranger. Bastian handed over the coffee. The guest jumped to his feet. “Where are my manners? The name’s Gabe.” They shook hands.

“It’s hot,” warned Bastian, introducing himself.

Gabe sat, took a big sip, and sighed like he’d just finished his calculus final.

“Burn your tongue, did ya?”

“It was totally worth it.” Gabe noticed binoculars on the railing.

“They’re not for girl-watching. Or birds. My former mother-in-law lives across the way. Neither one of us has a phone at camp. We do daily tea at two, unless she hangs a red towel from her clothesline.”

“That’s very Christian.”

“She’s a good egg. Doesn’t have anybody else local.”

“Bastian, can I tell you a secret?” blurted Gabe.

“Sounds like you’re gonna.”

“I’m a vacationing angel, undercover of course. Not the Gabe, just Gabe. I suppose it’s more like a leave of absence.”

“You don’t have the legal authority to park next-door, I take it.”

“I have the ultimate authority,” said Gabe, straightening and pointing up.

“Why here?” said Bastian, keeping the conversation going.

“Because it’s beautiful!”

“Can’t argue with that.” A darker thought crossed Bastian’s mind. “You’re not the angel of death?”

“Heavens, no! There’s a huge department for that now. So busy! I’m a guardian angel. I whisper advice when you need it, remind you of the path to the light, like your conscience.”

“Like Jiminy Cricket, the cartoon fella who travels with Pinocchio.”

“Exactly. But sometimes people don’t listen. God gave you free will, after all.”

“Who’s minding your person this morning?”

“He didn’t listen. Maybe next lifetime.”

“So, you’re on probation, for losing one to the dark side,” kidded Bastian.

“No, I just needed to stop and smell the lilacs.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but they’ve all gone by, two months ago.”

“Sweat then. And urine. And poo. And the decomposing muck on the bottom of your pond. Toothpaste. Earthly frosting.”

“Your ARE new to the human realm. May I offer some advice?”

Gabe’s attention suddenly went to the other side of the lake.

“Problem?” asked Bastian.

“It’s a red towel day, I’m afraid.”

“What? It’s early.” Bastian grabbed the binoculars and peeked. “I don’t see anything.”

“Her name’s Maude Swan. She had a bad night. Fell out of bed. I’m sorry, but she’s not going to make it. They’re telling me this is her transition day.”

“I thought you said...”

“I know: different department. Professional courtesy. No privacy on the other side. They thought you’d want to know.”

“Take me to her. Now!”

“I don’t have my wings!”

“Don’t tell me something, and then tell me I can’t do anything about it.”

“Do you want to say good-bye? I can do that.”

“How?”

“I’m still an angel. I’ll piggyback you and run across the lake. I’m quite strong. Take us half the time of you driving. Time’s of the essence.”

“What about the neighbors?”

“It’s early. Nobody’ll notice. Or they’ll rationalize it. Now or never, I’m afraid.”

“Let’s go, Pinocchio!”

The situation was exactly as advertised. Maude’s emergency pendant was on her bedside table. Bastian pressed it and called in the ambulance.

“Maude,” Bastian whispered, “can you hear me? Help is on the way.”

Maude, nearly bald without her favorite wig, smiled at Gabe standing behind Bastian. “I’m not afraid,” she said. Bastian squeezed her hand. She never noticed him.

Later, after a walk home, Bastian sat quietly on his deck. Gabe wandered over.

“I had nothing to do with that,” Gabe explained.

“I know.”

“She’s in a better place.”

“I know.”

“Humans are complicated, amazing creatures with a little speck of God’s soul in each one.”

“I know.”

“Have I worn out my welcome?”

“You’re fine.” A lighter thought crossed Bastian’s mind. “How are you at playing cribbage?”

“I’d be honored if you taught me. Any other questions?”

“Did you really burn your tongue?”

“I did. And I really pooped. The first time for both.”

“No more questions,” said Bastian.