Heaven or Hell Read online

  “Father,” Teresa looked down at her cell phone while she spoke, “I’d rather not do it all. But I promised my Aunt Jessie I’d go with her to see where her brother worked.” Teresa stepped through the office door with Jessie only a few steps behind.

  As the aunt approached Father Benjamin, she hesitated right in front of him. At that moment, he thought he saw her wink, an action that reminded him of Juan. He was almost certain, Jessie’s left eyebrow lifted as she winked her right eye. Or was that a twitch? He had to admit, he already missed Juan. His anger toward Juan would only hold out for so long, and that’s how it worked with his friend. The priest knew this one was going to hurt and maybe that’s why he was so angry. He followed the women into the hall and shut the office door.

  “Right this way, ladies.” Father Benjamin led the women to Juan’s office while he thought about that search for the General.

  The General had been a fixture at the shelter, and Juan believed they could find him and bring him home. Or more importantly, he believed they needed to find him and bring him home. The General, whose nickname was given to him because of his bossy demeanor and the stripes on his jacket, was too old and too sick to stay outside all night. Years ago they’d tried to find his true identity, but to no avail. On this topic, the General had refused to help, or, perhaps, as he’d claimed, he didn’t remember who he was.

  When they’d started out on the second day of their mission to find the General, Father Benjamin had told Juan he didn’t look good.

  “Thanks, Father, I appreciate that.” Juan smiled.

  “Hey, this business isn’t for the timid,” Father Benjamin said.

  “Yeah, it seems I’ve heard that, once or twice before. I’ll be okay.”

  Juan had been using a cane to get around for the previous few months. On this day, he’d seemed to lean on it somewhat more than usual. His face was pale and he appeared to have lost some weight, yet he looked swollen.

  “Have you been to your doctor?” the priest asked.

  “Father, we need to find the General.” Juan ignored Father Benjamin’s question.

  They’d made it down Washington Street, when Juan had doubled over and collapsed. Knowing this wasn’t a favorite area of emergency services, Father Benjamin had shamefully taken great care in telling the 911 operator this was not a typical call from Skid Row. He’d called back twice, and through it all the priest had managed to wake Juan and keep his friend alive. Thank goodness he’d gotten the ambulance there in less than thirty minutes. They’d saved Juan’s life—or for the moment at least.

  After Juan was hospitalized, Father Benjamin learned of Juan’s family and his abandonment of them. Before Juan’s disclosure, Father Benjamin had thought Juan was the closest thing to a brother he’d ever had. Together, they’d seen their share of deaths and tragedies at the center, and they’d bonded through the commonality of their work.

  Father Benjamin had been proud of Juan. He’d been under the impression that Juan had defied all odds to become a man fully recovered from his addiction. He’d been through the program, sobered up, stayed clean, and became a leader. A feat that the priest had rarely seen.

  Now, Juan’s recovery seemed like a deception to him. He’d felt personally betrayed and used. Indeed, Father Benjamin had helped Juan change his identity from Joe to Juan. Had he enabled this man to hide from his family and not be accountable for his own actions? Had he made up his own version of their brotherly love, too? His friendship with Juan now appeared false. It reminded Father Benjamin of the many one sided, couple relationships he’d personally counseled.

  He’d returned to Juan’s hospital room the day after the man was admitted. The day after he promised he’d help him with his daughter. “Why don’t I know this already?” he’d selfishly asked Juan, after Juan had spent a few hours describing the incidents, and the history surrounding the accident, the illness, and his final abandonment of his family.

  “How does one go about telling this story, Father? It’s not pleasant. I’m ashamed.”

  “Oh, come on, Juan,” Father Benjamin said. “How many Al-anon meetings have you led? How could … Why have we not done this years ago?”

  “Father, I’m exhausted.” Juan had a tube in his nose, an IV in his arm, and machines beeping around him. His skin was a yellowish tint, and the priest could see that Juan had trouble keeping his eyes open. “I’m dying. I’d like my daughter to have closure. I’ve never asked you for anything for myself. Just do this, please?”

  “Yes, yes. I will,” Father Benjamin answered.

  The priest had no choice and yet he worked hard at finding a resolution that didn’t involve him personally. Father Benjamin had developed a list of possible candidates, people whom both he and Juan had worked with, who could bring Juan together with his family. When he’d returned to the hospital, later that day, he’d provided several choices of counselors to Juan who could contact his family, every one of which Juan had declined.

  “Father, you agreed to help my daughter. I don’t want anyone else contacting her.” Juan had closed his eyes and swallowed, his voice became a whisper. “This is delicate, please.”

  “I’m way too close to this situation,” he’d told Juan.

  “Which is exactly the reason I asked you.” Juan had turned toward the window. “The phone numbers and addresses are in my office. I keep them in the notebook, on my shelf, with the word “family” on it … We’re running out of time.”

  As it stood now, Father Benjamin believed he could leave the rest of this mission in the hands of Jessie. It was evident she would be at Juan’s side, and she’d do everything within her power to get Teresa to be there too.

  “Father, how long have you known my brother, Joe?” Jessie walked at his heels in double time to keep up with his long legs.

  “For quite some time.” Father Benjamin stopped in front of Juan’s office.

  “So you knew him as Joe?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did my brother tell you about our family?” Jessie stood by his side at the door to Juan’s office.

  “He hasn’t shared much.”

  CHAPTER 6

  ANGEL HAD REMAINED BY TERESA’S SIDE throughout the meeting with the priest. She wanted details on Juan’s abandonment of his family. The entire situation felt familiar, a bit like a movie she’d seen before.

  The priest spoke to Teresa and her aunt as they entered Juan’s office. “Your dad spent little time in this room. As you can see, he’s not a paperwork person.”

  A desk, a shelf, and a few chairs filled the dimly lit office. Stacks of folders sat on both corners of the desk and the shelf held a pile of white three-ring notebooks.

  “We were looking for the General the day Juan was admitted into the hospital.” The priest sat down in the chair farthest from the wall, opposite the desk, and Teresa stood in front of the shelving unit.

  Angel immediately focused on two framed photographs near the top of the bookcase. She pointed at the pictures just as Teresa looked up. Teresa’s aunt was oblivious.

  “The General?” Jessie asked Father Benjamin.

  “Yes, he’s an older gentleman who’s been living in the shelter near Washington Street. When he didn’t check in last week Juan was worried. The General was too old for the night air.”

  “Was?” Jessie responded.

  “I hope not. We’re still trying to find him,” the father whispered.

  Angel’s insides were about to explode over the unseen photos until Teresa finally recognized the pictures and pulled them both down from the shelf. “Look at this!” Teresa turned one frame toward her aunt. “This is me, and that’s Angela. I don’t remember this photo.”

  Angel saw the picture and felt the most unusual sensation in her being. So warm and complete, like a soft flutter that grew from a few to a million butterflies floating inside her core and tic
kling her insides.

  “We were young. I think this was right before the accident,” Teresa said to her aunt. “Look. Angela had those silly boots on.” Both women laughed.

  “She loved those boots. My goodness, that was taken more than twenty years ago.” Jessie flipped the picture over and read the written words out loud. “Angel and Teresa … That’s right, Joe called Angela his angel, and more often than not he referred to her as Angel.”

  “Look at my mother.” Teresa held the other framed photo in her right hand. “I’ve never seen this picture before. I only have that real old one.”

  Angel felt a tear—or what would’ve been a tear if she could cry in her world—as she looked at the second photo. She knew this woman. An impression from deep down in her being bubbled to the surface of her consciousness as the words flew out of her mouth. “I know that woman.”

  “Did you hear that?” Teresa asked.

  “What?”

  Angel’s thoughts came to the surface again, and another word flew out of her mouth. “Mother?”

  “Again, did you hear that?” Teresa asked.

  “Can you hear me?” Angel asked.

  “It’s like a low level hum or a ringing, but I swear I heard the word ‘mother.’ Do you think my mother’s trying to talk to me?”

  “I don’t hear anything,” the priest interrupted.

  Angel had forgotten Father Benjamin was with the women in the cramped office. She stood with Teresa looking down at the pictures and wished the priest would’ve kept his mouth shut. He’d broken the deepest connection she’d ever made with Teresa.

  Could Angel’s link to this family be that simple? Was she Angela, also known as Angel? The idea seemed right, but so had the belief that she was going to enter the world as Teresa’s child. Angel had prepared for such a long time to be born to this family, and she had to deal with a lot of heartbreak when it didn’t happened. The day JJ was born should’ve been a beautiful day, but for Angel despair and loneliness had filled her heart as she remained clueless about her suspended state.

  Teresa’s face relaxed, and her entire body seemed to loosen up. She pulled down the book with the word “family” written on its spine.

  “May I?” Teresa lifted the notebook toward Father Benjamin.

  “Absolutely.”

  Angel stood right next to Teresa. Her insides felt like a slot machine hitting a jackpot. She wanted to find Belle and Kail to tell them her newest theory, but that conversation would have to wait. She’d need to ride this out and learn as many details about Angela as possible.

  Teresa flipped through the notebook and held up a page that contained a chart. “Auntie, look at this. A family tree. What is this called?” Teresa ran her hand over the page. “Uncle Joe … Who’s Hermeania Manuel? I don’t recognize the name.”

  Teresa’s Aunt Jessie closed her eyes and smiled. She whispered to herself, “Oh, Joe. You didn’t leave, you fool …”

  “What?”

  “She’s my great, great aunt. Let me see that.” Jessie took the notebook away from Teresa.

  “I hadn’t known until recently, but Juan had spent quite a bit of time on your family history. He’d developed an interest in genealogy,” Father Benjamin said.

  “Yes, that’s the word, genealogy,” Teresa responded.

  “You know, there are some people here I don’t know, either.” Jessie flipped the pages of the notebook. Angel could see that each page had been placed in a clear, plastic sleeve. It was evident that a great deal of time and care had been put into the creation of this notebook.

  “Teresita, it looks like your dad was keeping tabs on you, too.” Teresa’s Aunt Jessie pointed at the place where Teresa’s name was listed on the top of the second sheet. A typed address and phone number had been inked out, and penciled in the margin was Teresa’s current address and phone number.

  “How’d he get my number? It’s unlisted.” Angel saw the surprised look on Teresa’s face.

  The priest stood up. “Why don’t you just take the notebook? You’ll find more information in the pages, and I think he’d like you to have it.”

  Immediately, Angel resented her position as unnoticeable. She’d wanted to grab the book and devour its contents. Had she thought they’d respond, she would’ve questioned all of them about Angela. What had Angela looked like? Could she, Angel, be Angela? Could she take the pictures and show them to her girls, Belle and Kail? Angel’s frustration grew as the others headed toward the door.

  “I don’t believe there’s much more to this tiny office,” added Father Benjamin. “Let’s take a walk across the grounds, and I’ll show you where Juan has stayed for the last few years.” The priest led them quickly through the stark maze back to the waiting area.

  “I recently learned that Juan also maintains a storage unit. I believe it holds some of the contents of your family’s home.” The father spoke as the three of them walked along a cracked sidewalk that outlined a well-manicured patch of grass next to the church.

  “Our home on White Ridge Street? I thought he lost everything?” Teresa asked.

  “Well, I’m not sure what he salvaged. But he wants you to have the contents in the storage area.”

  “Oh God, now I have to dispose of his junk and probably his body.” Teresa spoke in a low, calm voice with only the slightest hint of a quaver.

  “Teresa, what if some of your mother’s things are there?” Teresa’s Aunt Jessie asked.

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about Mom’s things.” Teresa exhaled and continued, “Wow, I just haven’t dealt with any of this in years.”

  Angel walked next to Teresa and inspected her face. She’d examined her own reflection enough times through the eyes of Belle and Kail that she now wondered why she hadn’t noticed the resemblance earlier on. She and Teresa could be related; both had unusual light brown eyes and a petite stature. Although Teresa’s face was rounder than her own, they could easily be sisters if Angel were in the flesh. Why hadn’t she thought of this possible connection before? Had she heard anything previously about Angela’s existence? Angel couldn’t remember.

  They followed behind the priest as he entered a dormitory type building with a long narrow hallway that housed several apartments. Father Benjamin put a key in the first door and pushed it open.

  “I think it’s weird that he wanted us to see his place. Why are we doing this?” Teresa mumbled.

  “Juan wanted you to know that he’s a man who has lived in a simple way,” the priest answered. “And, we’re going to get the storage unit key.”

  Teresa’s aunt stepped through the door first, followed by Teresa and the priest. Angel drifted along beside them. Sparse furnishings and an ugly rust-colored shag carpet lay wall to wall in the small one-bedroom apartment. The space was so confined that the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen were all completely viewable from the living room.

  “It’s stuffy in here.” Jessie waved her hand in front of her nose and then opened the window over the kitchen sink.

  “The place has been locked up for a few days.” The priest moved to the desk in the corner of the living room next to the couch. He pulled an envelope from the top drawer.

  “This is the storage unit address and key.” The priest handed the envelope to Teresa.

  Angel moved into the bedroom and was surprised to see the closet, with no door on its frame, wide open to the room and the world. Only a few pairs of pants and shirts hung from the bar and a single pair of shoes sat on the floor. The room, the whole place was practically empty.

  The bedroom contained a single bed, a nightstand, a broken chair, and a weatherworn table. Angel spun around to leave when she noticed a notebook sitting on the top shelf of the closet next to a motorcycle helmet, in a spot that would be difficult to see from standing position.

  Teresa entered the bedroom with her aunt. “Okay, I’ve s
een enough,” she said.

  “It looks like nobody lives here,” Teresa’s aunt said.

  “Juan slept here. His life was back in the center,” Father Benjamin responded.

  Angel frantically pointed toward the closet and said, “No, not yet. Teresa. We need to look at that notebook.”

  “What?” Teresa asked.

  “I said, it looks like nobody lives here,” Teresa’s Aunt Jessie answered.

  “No, Auntie. You said something about a notebook,” Teresa said.

  “No, not me. You’re hearing things again.”

  “No, no. You said my name and something else,” Teresa said.

  Angel spoke again. “Up here, look up here.”

  Teresa wandered over to the closet and poked her head in through the doorway. “Up, up, up,” Angel whispered in her ear.

  Teresa brushed her right ear with her hand. “What’s this, Father?”

  “Yes, yes, yes! It might be nothing, but let’s look,” Angel said.

  “What?” Teresa asked.

  “I didn’t say anything.” The priest turned toward Jessie with a quizzical look on his face. “I don’t know what that is. Your dad said you’re welcome to anything you want.”

  “Auntie, you can have this.” Teresa flipped through the book and disregarded it as trash. “I think he kept a journal.”

  Angel tried to peek at the book but Teresa snapped it shut and handed it over to her aunt. The entire group headed out of the apartment in silence. Teresa and her Aunt Jessie followed Father Benjamin across the grounds while Angel trailed along in thought.

  Teresa held the “family” notebook and her Aunt Jessie straggled behind, flipping through the pages of the journal. They stopped on the sidewalk outside the church, near the parking lot.

  “Well, thank you, Father. I’m sure you have a lot to do,” Teresa said.

  “You know, I’d like you to …”

  As soon as Father Benjamin spoke, a woman walking toward them from the parking lot interrupted him.

  “Father?” The heavyset Hispanic woman held a slow cooker in her hands while a plastic grocery bag dangled from her fingers. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But have you heard any more news about Juan?”