My Kind of Miracle

By: Brian Holliday
(© 2010 by the author)
Editor: Rockhunter

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

“Hey, Gabriel!”

I looked up as the owner of my favorite bar and grill called out the name. I hadn’t heard that one around here before and I was curious as to who it belonged to. It was early on a Saturday, not even five yet, but, as usual, I had nothing better to do, and the TV screens at McNamara’s were bigger than the one I had at home.

Nothing happened right away, and I went back to watching the college b-ball game, noticing Eli McNamara disappear into the back room only out of the corner of my eye. Somebody had turned the sound down but, no loss because it wasn’t much of a game. I heard muffled voices from the back, and finally Eli reappeared behind the bar with another fella. I figured that must be Gabriel.

I suppose I would have been a little disappointed if I’d taken the time to think about it. I’d known a guy or two called Gabe, but never anybody who used the whole name, so I was picturing something different, a fellow who thought well of himself, you know? This guy was as everyday as a hamburg and fries. He was early thirties, maybe - a little younger than me and a little on the tall side. He seemed a bit skinny, because his shirt kind of hung on him, had lots of dark hair that needed a cut or at least a comb, but altogether an OK look about him. You know the type – wouldn’t look twice at him if you saw him on the street.

I shrugged, still bored, and went back to the game - 88 to 24 with only two minutes left - real edge-of-the-seat excitement. I’d forgotten which team I’d been rooting for.

By and by, I decided I could stand another beer. McNamara’s had table service, but only when the joint was busy - and that wouldn’t be for another couple of hours. Ralph, my buddy from work, had said he might drop by later, if his wife didn’t mind, so I’d copped a booth just in case. What with just me and six other singles, four of them sitting at the bar, I was in no danger of losing my place.

I walked over, thinking dinner time. Maybe nachos – they made ‘em pretty good here. Had a Mexican cook that loaded on the ground beef and cheese, and would add as many extra hot peppers as you could stand. Nachos and beer were one of my favorite combos.

The new barman… Gabriel? smiled at me – the kind of stock smile that says little more than ‘I’m just being pleasant so you’ll pay me for the beer’. Did they teach that one in bartending school?

“I’ll have another draft,” I said, placing my empty glass on the bartop. I always drank the house stuff – cheap enough to stretch my paycheck a little.

His mud brown eyes flicked to my face and back to the glass he was drying. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, I guess. Nachos, maybe.” He looked a little better, close-up. His jeans weren’t tight, but they nicely hugged his trim hips and ass under that sloppy, tails-out shirt. I gave him a grin. “Unless you can suggest something better…?” I let it hang, aware that I was trying to flirt, but not finding the energy to care. Let the guy tell me to fuck off – it wouldn’t be the first time.

To my surprise, his glance came back to me and held. “You’re Morgan, right?”

“Well,” I said, suddenly flustered – I hadn’t used my given name in years, how did he know it? Eli must have told him, the son of a bitch. “Yeah, but, I mean… everybody calls me Bud.” Morgan had always seemed too pretentious – a name for a top executive, not a grocery clerk.

The brown eyes twinkled. “Bud is nice, but I like Morgan – it has class.”

I tried to hold his eyes but I couldn’t. It seemed to me that the brown I’d thought plain was now mixed with little gold flecks. I pretended to be interested in the TV to his right. The game was over and some news reporter clone was going on about the city council meeting. Riveting.

“If you’re hungry,” came his voice - soft, with some kind of a foreign lilt to it, “we have barbecued ribs and brisket tonight.”

My stomach growled, claiming my full attention. “You do?” I forgot and looked into Gabriel’s eyes, but they were ordinary now. I relaxed. Seeing things… must be the cheap beer.

“Yes.” He nodded and consulted a slip of paper pinned behind the bar. “It’s $8.95 for ribs, brisket, slaw and baked beans… oh, and a roll, too.” I could swear his smile was warmer now.

I cleared my throat. “Um, that sounds good. I’ll take some of that.” He nodded again, moving toward the kitchen door. “And a microbrew, if you have one,” I called after him. For some reason I felt like splurging.

He gave the food order and came back. “Any particular brand?” He held my glance and I kept my eyes on his face, though it took some effort… they kept wanting to wander lower.

“Surprise me,” I said. Turning away, he laughed.

I drew in a sharp breath. That low, musical sound went through me like steeple chimes on Sunday. The echoes of it seemed to rattle around between my ears. I grabbed the bartop to steady myself for a second before making my way back to the booth. I looked around, but no one else seemed to have heard it, or to care if they had. What the hell?

The Mexican cook, a heavy-set guy in an apron, delivered the ribs. I was plenty hungry and they were some of the best I’d ever eaten. I used the roll to mop up the last of the sweet, tangy sauce. He brought the beer, too – a tall bottle and a nice frosted glass. The taste was nutty, slightly sweet, and went perfectly with the barbecue.

When I pushed away the empty plate, half my beer left and still pretty cold, I felt satisfied and almost happy. In fact, I was more interested than ever in a little one-on-one companionship, if you know what I mean. Not that it was going to be easy to find some anywhere nearby.

Our little town grew up as kind of a bedroom community for the big town a couple miles over… the one with the steel mill. My daddy and all his brothers worked for the mill at one time or another but, by the time us kids were old enough, the work had dried up and our town began to shrink. My brothers went off to work their ways through college, got married, and settled down in other states. When Mom and Dad passed on, I was just of an age to have, but not to know what to do with, my business degree. They left me the family house and I found a job at the supermarket that served what was left of the town, and here I still am, ten years later. Anyway, my point is, that if you were a guy and found yourself craving male company instead of female, you didn’t have a lot of choices.

Gay bars? In this one-horse town? No way. If all you wanted was a quick hook-up, you could frequent the rest stop out on the interstate. For anything more, you went to the town’s regular bars and looked around carefully, out of the sides of your eyes, and hoped against hope that someone decent would look back. I could count the known gay men in this town without taking my shoes off. The last luck I’d had was with Ed Jacobs when he and his partner had a blowup. They got back together, though.

Well, I guessed it was time for a trip to the big city. I could drive up next weekend, maybe stay overnight in a cheap motel… but that still left me no prospects for tonight.

I liked my hometown, I really did. I even liked my job. They’d made me manager at the supermarket last year when old Bob Smithers retired. It was just that I was lonely. I knew gay guys who’d given in and gotten married to a woman, just to have someone to come home to at night. I didn’t think I could do that, even if I wanted to, but being gay in a small town sure cut down your options.

I’d just finished letting out a fair-sized sigh when Gabriel came and sat down across the table from me.

“Hi, just thought I’d ask if you wanted anything before I leave. Eli was just showing me around tonight, I won’t work a full shift until tomorrow.” His eyes seemed more golden-brown now, and a curl of darker brown hair had fallen over his forehead in a very attractive manner – or maybe I was just desperate.

“Yeah, I want something.” His eyebrows rose inquiringly. “I want you to come home with me.” There, I’d said it. Now, all I had to do was wait for him to get up and walk away, or throw my beer in my face or - worst of all - laugh. But he didn’t do any of those things.

“OK.” He gave me a grin with a twinkle in it. “I’ll get my coat.”

You could have knocked me over. In a daze, I stood up and watched him walk toward the door and stand, waiting for me. I had him, now what was I going to do with him?

On the way over in my car, (he said he didn’t have one), we didn’t do much talking. I’d thought about putting a hand on his leg or something, just to be sure he knew where I was coming from, but that isn’t too easy with a stick shift, so I just drove.

As usual, my place was a mess. I hated to turn on the lights, but Gabriel didn’t seem to mind the dirty cups and plates on the floor or the smelly t-shirt on the back of the sofa. He just came in and stood politely until I invited him to sit down.

Gabriel took off his jean jacket and sat on my couch, looking perfectly relaxed, while I ran around trying to make the place look like a pig didn’t live there. When I had finally done all I could without getting out the mop and vacuum cleaner, I asked if I could get him anything. I hoped he didn’t want more than a beer or a diet soda, because I’d also checked the refrigerator and that was it. He just shook his head and patted the couch next to him. Wow.

Gabriel looked different, now he was in my house. Maybe it was the lighting, but I didn’t see how light could have such a big effect. His hair looked darker and his eyes brighter. The first few buttons on his white shirt had come open and I could see a lot of smooth golden skin underneath, and just the suggestion of nicely defined pecs. Certain parts of me were beginning to sit up and take notice, but the rest was nervous as hell. I sat down like the couch might be a mousetrap.

He smiled. “Something wrong, Morgan?”

I still couldn’t get used to hearing my real name, even though it sounded good when he said it. “Uh, no, I just…“ Finally, my sense of humor kicked in. “Gabriel, I like you and all but, now you’re here, I don’t know quite what to do with you.”

I laughed and he laughed too – with me, not at me. He had nice square working-man’s hands, and he put one on my knee and squeezed. It felt warm and good.

“It’s OK, Morgan. We don’t have to do anything but talk.”

I smiled at him, feeling foolish, wondering why I was having such a time accepting the answer to my wishes.

“So,” he said, “let’s talk. Why did you pick me up?”

Right to the point. I just said the first thing that I thought of – the truth. “I dunno – I guess I kind of liked your name.”

“Gabriel?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s a good name - like the angel, you know?” I’d never been the religious sort, but I remembered vague stories about the trumpet blowing angel, the messenger of God.

He laughed. It made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “An angel… me?”

I sat back a little and studied his clear eyes and smooth skin, the facial features I hadn’t really appreciated in the dim light of the bar. He was handsome… classically handsome wouldn’t be a stretch. All of a sudden his loose white shirt seemed a lot like a robe. What was he hiding under it… wings? “Well, the way you look… could be, yeah.”

He glanced at me, all of a sudden serious and thoughtful. “Well, what would you do differently if I were?”

This conversation was well on its way to bizarre. “If you were what… an angel?”

“Yeah.”

“Gabriel…” I thought about it. “That would be the Archangel Gabriel?”

“Uh huh.”

I had to think a minute. What would I do if I had a real live angel all to myself? “Well, I guess I’d have a few questions.”

He cocked his head to the side. I had a parakeet that used to do that. “Like what?”

All my life, I’d been accumulating a list of things I’d like to ask God, if He existed. I guess maybe everybody has one. Asking an angel would be almost as good, wouldn’t it? I shook myself. This wasn’t the kind of game I’d pictured myself playing with a good looking guy tonight, but… what the hell.

I sat up straighter and turned so I could more easily see his face. “OK, here goes.

Does God have a significant other? Did He ever? And, no, Mary doesn't count.”

Gabriel looked at me, surprise blinking his eyes. “Of course. God has all of us. That’s what we are meant to be… God’s lovers and partners and friends.”

It wasn’t any answer I’d expected. “Huh?” I said.

“Sure. I think that’s why God made us, men and angels, all of us here on Earth… to keep Him company. He is everywhere, feels everything, so whenever we make love, we can’t help but be making love with God.” He smiled, soft and sweet. “Try remembering that, next time. It will make a difference.”

Suddenly I wished I had a tape recorder. I was going to have to think about that one.

“Well then, did Jesus have a significant other?”

Gabriel cocked his head again. “Do you mean to ask if Jesus was sexually active? Would it shock you if I said ‘yes’?”

I had to think about that, too. “No, I guess not. He was a man, wasn’t he?”

“Of course, that was the idea. By the way, you know, God’s ideas aren’t necessarily exactly the same as what has been reported in the books about Him.”

“You mean the Bible?”

“Yes, and the others. Those books were written a very long time ago, by men, and sometimes they got the translations a little mixed up. Let’s try it this way… were you ever in Sunday school, Morgan?”

Now, that was a long time ago…“Sure, why?”

“Then you remember hearing that God is Love?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Well, that’s perfectly and absolutely true. God made us, all of us, you and me and everyone – made us to be just the way we are. Being Himself the embodiment of love, do you think he would have asked us to turn our backs on love’s physical expression? Jesus was sent to Earth to experience everything that mankind can experience. There were no limits placed on Him. If you read the Bible, you’ll even see a disciple or two He referred to as ‘beloved’.”

My experience with the Bible was limited, for sure, but I thought I remembered that one. This time, I had a real good question, though.

“Then why not just forgive Satan, end the war?”

Gabriel laughed. “Ever hear the phrase, opposites attract? This world, where we all live now, is set up to function on opposites – you can’t have night without day, up without down, good without evil. Change that, and the world becomes something else, something entirely different. That may happen some day, but if it does it won’t be for a very long time. Besides, the struggle between opposites creates energy. Do you want to talk about chaos theory and entropy?”

I laughed and held up both palms. Whoever Gabriel was, he had an answer for everything. I had only one question left. Not a religious one this time… more metaphysical. I looked Gabriel in the eye and asked it.

“Where does that other sock go?”

Gabriel laughed until he had to wipe his eyes. “That one, even I can’t answer. I guess He wants to keep some mysteries in the world.”

He was suddenly looking at me seriously. “Now, I have a question, Morgan.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Do you want to make love?”

“With you?!” I thought the grin would split my head in half.

“Sure, I’m the only one here.” He winked.

And this time, I had the perfect answer… “Yeah!”

Gabriel’s body was as gorgeous as I had thought - even if he didn’t have wings - and he was kind enough not to complain about my love handles. Together we found my bedroom and my bed and started kissing and, before I knew it, I forgot all about religion and metaphysics or anything but feeling good.

It was rare to find someone as completely versatile as me, and it was more than a treat. We went on all night, taking turns, each round more satisfying than the last one. Maybe remembering about the whole ‘making love with God’ thing did make a difference. And in the morning, I still felt good, even though Gabriel was gone when I woke up.

The guys down at McNamara’s told me later that there never had been a new bartender named Gabriel or anything else. Who am I to argue?

Gabriel left me a note, though, written on a piece of lined paper with a pencil, in the prettiest handwriting you ever saw. I kind of expected it to say ‘fear not’ or something, but what it said was, ‘be happy’. I still have it, tucked away with my mom’s picture and a few other treasures.

And I still live in the same house and work at the same job. On weekends, I even go to the same bars. The big difference is I don’t go alone anymore… not since I met Aaron Gibson, who came back to town from Poughkeepsie to help his dad in the tire store.

I remember the first time I met Aaron; for some reason, I asked him to call me Morgan. We started living together six months later.

Sometimes I wonder if meeting Gabriel that night was what changed my luck for the better. I love Aaron a lot, but I remember Gabriel with fondness too, and it pleases me to think of him from time to time.

Funny thing… after that one night we spent together… I never lost another sock. The rest of what happened could be only coincidence, but that… now, that’s my kind of miracle.

The End.
 

Thanks to Rock Hunter for his excellent editing.

Posted: 01/29/10