From Chapter 20

Boyfriend and Blue Alien in the House

“Guess what!” Jessica’s voice is bursting with excitement, “A senior just invited me to a dance!”

“What?” I snap out of my initial shock. “Do you know this guy?”

“C’mon, Mom, you know that everybody knows each other in our school.”

True. Small, private Jewish school ─ one big, happy, noisy clan.

But still. The left hemisphere of my brain, the area of strident logic, has already done the math: She’s fifteen and he must be eighteen. A red flag appears before my eyes, waving impudently.

“So let me tell you what happened,” Jessica explains. “He’s on our school’s basketball team, and I, as a part of my media class, was assigned to interview one of the basketball players and write about him for the school newspaper. Mom! He is the tallest guy I’ve ever seen!” Jessica’s voice rises with excitement as my nails dig into a sock from the laundry I’m folding. “Get this,” she continues, “he’s 6’5″ and I am 5’1″! So I interviewed him and had my friend Kate take a picture of us, which the school paper ran with my story – and that’s what he wrote the note on, asking me to the dance.”Her voice peaks in excitement. “Mom! Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?”

I mumble something in a croaky voice as horrific images line up in my brain. My precious, innocent child is being mistreated, seduced, taken advantage of, and talked into doing something she’ll spend years in therapy for by some mammoth-size, hormonal teenager. I’m already planning the rescue mission: My husband and my oldest son, Eddy, will hunt this guy down. We’ll get his parents and the principal involved in the intervention…

One night, I fall asleep wondering if going through some of life’s dark passages is the result of our own ignorance and can be avoided, or if this must be experienced as part of our journey.

That night I have a nightmare. I am at a park, having a picnic with my family. It is such a pretty day ─ sunny, warm, and bright. Even the glittery-green grass is playing hide and seek with jumping sun bunnies dancing in unison with bluebells, cosmos daisies and yellow marigolds. I am lying on a blanket next to my husband. We are holding hands and exchanging tender whispers. The birds above are singing sweetheart tunes, dashing after each other in a love pursuit. Kids are giggling happily somewhere nearby, chasing butterflies and picking wild blueberries. There is only one fluffy cloud hanging motionless in the vibrant, blue sky, smiling down at us. Felix’s lips gently kiss my neck, his hand with a chocolate-dipped strawberry approaches my mouth, and he teases me just a bit before allowing me to bite into its delicious sweetness. Blissfully, I gaze into his eyes, lips open in a heavenly smile.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a black dot in the sky, right in the middle of the single cloud. I turn and squint, looking straight at it. With each blink the blotch grows larger, infecting the innocent cloud with its vile darkness. How strange, the thought lazily vibrates in my mind, but I am still smiling, holding my husband’s hand. Playful sunlight kisses my eyelashes and I close my eyes, breathing in its life-giving rays. But instead, chilling, cold air enters my nostrils, and gasping for warmth, I push the freeze deep into my lungs, heart, and then through my entire body instead.

Startled, I open my eyes. The white cloud has now been devoured entirely by a low-hanging mass of solid darkness, and with my every heartbeat, I see it distending lower, assuming the form of some gigantic, demonic creature, its massive black wings spread wide open, pushing the brightness of sunlight off to the side. Paralyzed, I watch this beast of darkness aiming straight for me…

“But wait,” I grin sarcastically, recalling one more nuance, “it gets even better. You’re not going to believe this…” I pause, looking away. “My friend’s mother from Armenia told me about some black magic spell that she learned from her grandmother, which supposedly cures demonic possession, which is what she believes I have.

Cynthia smiles slightly, listening intently.

Still looking away, I squeeze the words out: “She told me to collect dried-up dog poop from the backyard and bring it to her. I did, and she concocted a potion out of it with some herbs, pigeon feathers, and full-moon chanting.” Cynthia’s eyes widen in surprise, but she catches herself quickly, assuming a state of neutral compassion.

“The stench was radiating two blocks away when I brought this shit potion home.” I wince in disgust, remembering. “And I was…to pour this all over me after I take a shower. She swore it works every time,” I say quickly, “and so I did, puking for an hour afterwards and using up an entire bottle of shampoo washing the shit off. How idiotic and pathetic was that?”

For a moment, we just stare at each other until I break into nervous laughter, stopping abruptly. My facade of sarcasm is gone and my pain-filled eyes are begging for explanation. “Something is seriously wrong. I am dying, and no one can help me.” My lower lip quivers. “Cynthia, tell me!” I cry out, a mask of misery spreading across my face.

It must be something I said, because just then the lights on the ceiling fan start buzzing and with a soft puff go out. Cynthia’s eyes glow in the darkness, but there is no Cynthia-presence in them. I let out a shriek, seeing a blue, fluorescent-like ghost standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

“You are angry, I am sorry,” it speaks through Cynthia, and I cover my open mouth with both hands. “Your pain is real, but the suffering is self-induced and not necessary.” Its voice is sharp and direct, as if it ─ or he ─ is conducting a business meeting.

For a second, we just stare at each other, petrified me and curious him.

“I am a Thought Adjustor sent by the Mid-Way Council,” he explains. “I am responsible for correcting and repairing the blood crystallization levels of the ionized consciousness of human beings through their minds’ frequency attunements.”

I’ve never been so scared in my life. If I hadn’t been paralyzed by shock, I would have hit the road running without looking back, forgetting all about alien-channeling Cynthia.