An Angel and a Preacher

It had rained the night before; the streets were still wet. The Preacher saw the man on the ground first. The Woman followed close behind him. Both thought he was dead until he started to move.

“Are you okay, sir?” the Preacher asked in his deep, vibrant voice.

The man stirred and began to turn over. He was soaked to the bone, wearing a three-piece suit without the jacket; the front of his vest was open and the white shirt was torn and dirty; his clothes looked singed. He had graying black hair and a thin salt-and-pepper mustache.

I am perfectly fine, the man said. The Preacher heard; The Woman did not. The Preacher didn’t realize that she had not, but he did realize that he had heard the man perfectly. The Preacher was deaf. He could read lips, but never hear, not since he was young. He knew his hearing hadn’t returned; he couldn’t hear anything else. He had clearly heard a voice, though. The Woman had heard nothing.

“Can you speak? We asked if you are alright.” The Woman said.

She cannot hear me, only you. The man said.

“What do you mean she can’t hear you? I can hear you!”

Only you can hear me. I was sent to you.

“What? Sent to me? What are you talking about?”

I am a messenger.

“What do you mean “a messenger”?

An Angel, I am an Angel. I am here for you.

“Am I dead?”

No. I’m here to help.

“How?”

The Woman couldn’t take it anymore. “What are you talking about? Who are you talking to? Have you gone crazy!?” The Preacher didn’t hear her, but he saw she had said something.

“What?” He asked, looking in her direction.

She was exasperated. “I said, are you crazy? You’re talking as if you’re in the midst of a conversation, and he’s just staring at you.”

“He says he’s an Angel. He says only I can hear him. I don’t understand it. I can hear him perfectly. Maybe I have gone crazy.”

You are not crazy. Follow me; I will lead you where you need to go.

The man started walking out of the alley. “I think he wants us to follow him.” The Preacher told The Woman.

“I think you’re a nut!” The Woman said. “But I can’t leave you by yourself.” They both walked out of the alley, after the man.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bar was full of smoke, so it was difficult to see what was going on across the room. There weren’t a lot of people around; it was still late morning, around 10. There were plenty of private tables and booths, but the man led them to a place at the bar, between a priest reading the paper and a rabbi staring into the liquor before him as if it were telling him something fascinating.

“This is very interesting,” said the Woman sarcastically. “Why on earth would an Angel lead us to a bar?”

“I don’t know,” said the Preacher. “He hasn’t said anything since we started following him.”

‘He hasn’t said anything at all!”

Just watch. The Angel said. The man was staring at the bottles behind the counter, not even looking in the Preacher and the Woman’s direction.

The priest found had heard the woman mention the Angel. He looked up from his paper, intrigued more than anything else. “What’s this about?” he asked.

“He’s nuts is what it’s about.” The woman said.

“What makes you think he’s nuts?”

The Preacher looked at the priest, seeing the Woman speak to him, and saw his last statement. He replied: “This man claims he’s an angel. He’s led me to this bar. Only I can hear him, it seems. I don’t really understand it, I can’t hear. She can’t hear him, so she thinks I’m crazy.”

“He is crazy!” She said.

“I don’t know if this necessarily makes you crazy,” the priest said matter-of-factly. “I have a man in my parish who swears up and down that God talks to him every morning. ‘God tells me to help people,’ he says. I don’t really think God talks to him, but who am I to say. I don’t think he’s hurting anyone in believing it. And who am I to say he’s crazy; God may very well be talking to him.”

The rabbi abruptly came out of his trance and jumped into the conversation. “That’s what’s crazy, not having any conviction. If you don’t believe God is talking to the man you think he’s crazy. You have to; that’s what you believe. If you believe that the world is made of yogurt you think scientists are nuts when they talk about rocks and minerals, molecules, atoms. You have to; they disagree with your beliefs. Everyone has to think everyone else is crazy, otherwise they are inconsistent.”

“Well, just because I don’t believe my parishioner talks to God, or that this man is an Angel, I don’t have to have them committed.” The priest responded.

“Maybe.” The rabbi said, looking oddly at the man and the Preacher.

“I don’t believe it’s necessary to think other people are crazy just because you don’t agree with their beliefs,” the priest said. “I don’t agree with yours, and I don’t think you’re crazy. You don’t agree with mine, either. Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Yes!” said the rabbi.

The Preacher had only gotten half of the conversation; he had been looking at the priest. The Woman, however, had heard the whole thing. “I don’t want to commit them; the Preacher isn’t normally this way. I don’t know what’s suddenly come over him.” She said.

“We’re not going to say anything. I can’t see where he’s doing anyone any harm.” The priest said. The rabbi didn’t really say anything. He was staring at his liquor again. The priest looked over at the man “This man doesn’t talk much, though, does he?” He asked.

“He hasn’t said anything since we found him. He was just lying in an alley, soaked to the bone. I wonder where he came from.” The woman said.

“Who knows?” said the priest. He turned to the Preacher. “Say, she says you’re a preacher?”

“Yes, I wasn’t always deaf.” The Preacher said.

“I guess you can tell I’m a priest; I don’t hide it well. I don’t know about this ‘angel takes me to a bar thing,’ though. It’s not that odd, really, if that’s where God wants you to be.”

“That’s the way I see it.” The Preacher said.

“Well, it was nice meeting you folks, but I believe I’m going to have to get back to the church. You coming, Sam?”

“Yeah, just a second.” The rabbi laid some money on the bar and followed the priest out into the street.

The Preacher picked up the paper that the priest had left behind. There were stories about shootings and stabbings. He read a story about a suicide on a bridge. There was a story about an ATM being robbed. There were no leads. The camera had broken, and there were no witnesses.

“Why do so many bad things happen every day?” The Preacher asked the Angel.

That’s what sells the papers. The Angel said.

As the man started to lead them out someone across the room screamed and a bottle broke. The Preacher didn’t hear, but he saw a man fall to the ground with blood on his face. Some of the people in the almost empty bar started fighting. The brawl seemed to be between two groups of friends, but they were throwing things. Something hit the Preacher on the shoulder, but didn’t hurt him. He was a rather solid man.

“Are we going to be alright?” The Preacher asked.

God is with you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They escaped the bar unscathed. After they had walked a few blocks, the woman said, “You were talking about evil back there, why bad things happen. Why do you say my brother died?”

“People do bad things; that’s just how it is.” The Preacher said.

“My brother did bad things, but he wasn’t bad. He didn’t deserve to die.”

“Maybe he didn’t, but the people that killed him do bad things too, and they did when they killed him, no matter what he was like.”

“You knew him for a long time. What do you think sent him down an evil path?”

“I don’t know. I talked to him, but he stopped listening to me. He started listening to that Frank guy.”

The Woman’s brother had joined in with a minor organized crime ring. When he had died, the Woman hadn’t seen her brother in two years. The man they were following was the enforcer for the mob her brother had joined. His name was Frank. He had died the night before; no one had found the body until these two had come upon it. The Angel was a messenger from God.

“So there was nothing you could do, nothing to help keep him from trouble?” The Woman asked.

“I tried my best. I wish I could have done something, but I couldn’t. Sometimes I think I could have done more, but I don’t know what.”

We’re going this way. The Angel said. The man led them into an alley and through a door into a deserted building.

“Why this way?” the Preacher asked.

This is the way you need to go.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They were standing in an abandoned building in the middle of town. The man led them into a large room full of empty crates and garbage.

I need to talk to you over here. The Angel told the Preacher. I’ll follow you.

“Well, alright.” The preacher said. “I’ll be right back.” He told the Woman.

“Do whatever you want!” She said.

The Preacher started walking to the other side of the room, and the man followed behind him. He couldn’t hear. He didn’t hear the gunshots. He did feel them, though. He wasn’t sure what had happened when his legs got week and he fell to the ground. He fell on his face, so he didn’t see the shooter. He died within a few seconds.

What happened? The Preacher asked the Angel.

She killed us. He said.

Why?

She blamed you and that man for her brother’s death. The man was Frank.

Yeah, I knew that all along. I didn’t know she did, though. The Preacher said.

She didn't.

How did this happen? I thought you said God was with me?

He was. The Angel said.

Oh. They watched as the woman left the building, and was arrested, though that was a few days later. Time was passing quickly.

It’s odd. I still can’t hear a thing except your voice. I always thought after I died my hearing would return.

Nope.