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Fiore never saw it coming. The poor angel had been sitting at the small table in the center of the linoleum-lined kitchen, slowly chewing spoonfuls of Froot Loops. (The entire contents of their pantry consisted of Fiore’s gustatory adventures, a smorgasbord of products and ingredients with bright packaging and salivating taglines.) Of course, food was not a necessity for any member of the divine household, but they partook occasionally for the sensory enjoyment. And trying new foods was a small relief from the eternal boredom of being exiled to this little House on Earth.
Genesis had no interest in the Froot Loops. So it was that Fiore let out a high-pitched yelp as his offspring hit him square in the head with a mass of stuffed fabric. The doll left no damage, falling limply to the table. It’s face gazed up at him with innocence. Fiore turned to where Genesis sat on the floor. Their eternally shifting features and sizes still managed to convey a petulant expression.
“Why are you throwing things at my head?”
Genesis’ tongue came out. Where on Earth had they learned that? Probably the television.
“I want to go outside.”
Fiore let out a long suffering sigh. “We’ve discussed this before. You can’t go outside. It’s not allowed.”
“Who says!”
“I do. And Heaven and Hell. And GOD.”
“Heaven and Hell and God also said that you and Dad couldn’t-“
“What’s the matter?” DeBlanc had heard commotion as he came in the front door, a pile of paper in his arms. He always wondered how these found their way stuffed into the small box on a pole at the edge of their front yard; technically the three-person family didn’t exist, and should not be on any mailing lists. And yet, like clockwork, they received a barrage of catalogues, magazines and a daily newspaper, all with blank address. Perhaps it was a gift from their superiors, amusements to keep the abomination that was Genesis out of trouble. DeBlanc did not question divine reasoning.
“They're being cheeky, as usual,” Fiore grumbled.
DeBlanc’s eyes flitted to where Genesis was now sitting cross-legged with a furrowed brow, a position that immediately alerted DeBlanc to the cause of the person on the radio reporting on new sewage lines having stopped mid sentence to instead sing out a croaky rendition of Abide With Me.
“I’m sure whatever they said wasn’t meant in mean spirit. Was it?”
“No. I’m sorry.” The radio program came to an immediate stop. Someone on the other line must have broken the connection.
DeBlanc pulled up a chair and spread his cargo out on the table. Fiore eyed it suspiciously.
“It’s understandable that there is some . . . tension among us, cooped up in here with only each other for company.”
“I want to go outside.”
“I already told them. We can’t.”
“Why’d you tell them that?”
“Because, it’s common sense! We can’t go gallivanting off with Genesis out in the HUMAN world. Think of what could happen! If we interfere significantly in the lives of the mortals we’ll be in even more trouble than we already are. We could lose this safe house or worse, we could lose each other.”
“Don’t be fatalistic, my dear. We just have to be cautious and very watchful. If Genesis is bad we won’t let them out again. I’m sure they’ll be good if it means they get to experience more than just our decorating skills.” Genesis nodded enthusiastically.
Fiore had not expected DeBlanc to throw aside what he considered infallible logic. The angel wilted, a frown creasing his face.
“Don’t look like that. It’ll be fun.”
“And ‘it’ is?”
“Yes, what shall we do?” Genesis now flitted excitably around the table, running circles, although their ‘feet’ never moved.
“We’re going to . . . we’re going to . . . this.” DeBlanc grabbed a page off the table, waving the advertisement in Fiore’s face. A smiling cartoon family stood underneath a blue sky, right next to a small red flag on a green. SUMMER FUN IS HERE. JERSEY BEACH MINI PUTT. GREAT TIME FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY.
Fiore studied the picture. “We are a family,” he said, after a loaded pause.
“Exactly.” DeBlanc beamed, half for his idea being accepted and half because Fiore actually looked less gloomy. The edges of the taller angel’s mouth had quirked up, a subtle sign of Fiore’s insatiable curiosity that had always boded well for DeBlanc.
“Genesis, choose a form. But think carefully; you have to stick to it all the time we’re out.”
“What about this?” Suddenly there was a child. Tangible. Solid. Single formed. Shaggy red hair stuck out from under a black baseball cap. There was a wide, conniving grin, pugnacious chin, Roman nose, a galaxy of freckles, stature as short as DeBlanc, and disarming doe eyes as blue as Fiore’s.
“Interesting choice.”
“It’s good,” Fiore said, voice tinged with obvious affection. DeBlanc felt his heart warm then at the unguarded gentleness of Fiore’s expression. He never doubted Fiore’s dedication to Genesis, but it often felt as if his partner were holding himself back, as if he could distance himself with the formality of the role of Custodian. He liked to see his angel open up. Hopefully, the day out would let Fiore relax even more.
“I’ll get the car.”
* * * * *
“Here’s yours.” Fiore held a red ball out towards DeBlanc. “I’ll take blue.”
“Are you trying to say something?” DeBlanc raised an eyebrow.
Genesis tugged at Fiore’s sleeve. “I want Black.”
“There weren’t any black ones.”
“Then I want Red.”
DeBlanc gratefully passed the ball into Genesis’ hands. “It’s all yours, champ,” he said before reaching over Fiore’s shoulder and pulling a white ball out of the slot. The girl behind the counter lazily popped her gum, before bending down to hand then red, blue and white clubs.
“Take the headphones out we’re trying to have a bonding experience.”
“I can still hear you through the music. I hear all. I hear the worms slithering in the ground and the women flipping the pages of books and the men carving rocks in pits across the ocean.”
“Genesis.”
“Fine.”
* * * * *
HOLE ONE
“Do you . . . even know how to play this game? It is a game isn’t it?”
“Can’t be that hard,” DeBlanc said, “there are children here.”
Genesis narrowed their eyes, carefully watching the family of six a few feet away from them. The father cuffed his sneakers, bent his arm back and swung, sending the ball careening down the green almost scaling the hill . . . before sliding back down in the direction it had come. His children jeered good-naturedly as the father stomped his feet in mock frustration. Genesis hummed in understanding.
“Like this.“ They stepped forward and placed their ball on the green, bent unfamiliarly human arms, and in one swoop it sailed in a perfect arc, rattling into the awaiting goal.
“Bravo!” DeBlanc clapped and Genesis’ image wavered, glowing slightly in pride. Fiore clucked his tongue gently and the entity snapped back into their stable disguise, now wearing a sheepish face.
“I guess I’ll go next.” DeBlanc squinted. The hole was only eighteen feet away and a straight shot. A 60 degree angle would provide the exact amount of momentum . . .
Swing. And the white ball seemed to be pouting at him from where it sat, three feet to the left of the hole.
“Must not have taken into account this . . . human body. Not as strong as I’m used to.”
“I think you’re plenty strong,” Fiore said.
“You flatterer.” DeBlanc matched Fiore’s teasing grin. “Go on. Try it yourself, but watch the arms.”
Fiore lined his club up with the small blue ball.
THUNK, CLATTER.
“Hey, idiot, there are other people here!” The mother glared at them, rubbing the circle shaped reddening mark on her arm. Fiore had his hands clasped to his face, an absolute look of regret swimming in his eyes.
“He didn’t mean it!” Genesis yelled. The mother rolled her eyes and turned with a huff. “You know? Surprisingly it doesn’t hurt at all?” she whispered to her husband.
“Well, at least you got it in one shot?” DeBlanc gave Fiore’s shoulder a consoling pat.
The angel blinked in surprise as he eyed the green where DeBlanc’s white was the only one left in view. “So I have.”
DeBlanc finished the course in two more strokes.
* * * * *
HOLE FOUR
Genesis - 7; Fiore – 10; DeBlanc - 16
DeBlanc’s mind whirred: a breeze from the northeast that needs to be accounted for, a curve that will require hitting the brick edge at an eighty-five degree angle, his own human arms having a one inch discrepancy in the left side, hit the ball with the slight underside edge. . .
“GODDAMNIT.” The ball hit the brick too widely and rolled joyfully off past the hole on an adventure into he rock pit at the end.
“It’s all right,” Fiore said.
“You do better.”
And Fiore did, conquering the course with three strokes, but not without hitting two trees, bouncing off the roof of a nearby golf cart, and knocking over the small flag at the end.
“And write down another hole-in-one for me,” Genesis called out.
* * * * *
HOLE SIX
Genesis - 10; Fiore – 15, DeBlanc - 21
“Fiore, what are you DOING?”
DeBlanc felt the stares and whispers from all around them. They must be quite a spectacle, him leaning over a fence yelling at his partner who climbed and jumped straight into the manufactured pond. Genesis waved Fiore’s shoes and socks in one hand.
“I’m taking my turn?” The angel sent a confused look up over the embankment at a horrified DeBlanc. Fish were nipping at his pale exposed ankles, but Fiore did not seem to care.
“You’re not supposed to go in the water!”
“But my ball did.”
“We’ll get you a new one.”
“Are you sure that’s in the rules? I’m certain I could just hit it from in here.“
“Yes, it’s in the rules! Do you think they’d make people take off their shoes and roll up their pants and climb into the water every time a stray ball flew away. That’s ridiculous.”
“Sirs, are you having an issue?” The girl from the front desk approached them with amusement causing her brown eyes to crinkle at the edges.
“Give us a new ball.”
Her smile dropped, face suddenly void of emotion. Staring in a hard line forward, she turned as if on mechanical springs. “I will give the gentlemen a new ball,” she echoed. Her voice was tinny and not her own high squeak.
“Both of you stop,” DeBlanc said, “We’re trying to be inconspicuous!”
Genesis shrugged. Fiore balefully climbed out of the pond.
* * * * *
HOLE TEN
Genesis - 12; Fiore - 25; DeBlanc - 33
“It’s not polite to stare,” Fiore chastised. Genesis ignored him and continued to fix the other family with a withering gaze. Two of the young children hid behind their mother’s legs as the teen girl had her go at the next course. The teen boy was leaning on a tree making flirtatious eyes at the female employee with the gum.
“Why are they taking so long?”
“Patience is a virtue,” DeBlanc said. “Just wait for them to finish. Should only be a little while.” The three of them had finished the course and sat all in a row on a side bench. DeBlanc worried over the painful prickling sensation that had started on the top of his head. Perhaps a reaction from being in the sun so long? Fiore idly tapped the back of DeBlanc’s hand with his own, tracing celestial patterns. Genesis leaned in on their elbows and kicked the ground. The girl hit a hole in one, but there were still two more children up to putt before the divine family could move forward.
Then there was a sudden hooting and hollering.
“Mom, did you see me!”
“Me too, me too! I hit a hole in one too.”
“Well, good job!”
Genesis stood up abruptly. “It’s our turn now,” they said, and promptly conquered the course in two strokes. Fiore took it in four.
But DeBlanc couldn’t concentrate as he lined his foot up with the ball on his fifth stroke. Voices carried over to him. The family was now five holes ahead.
“Another one, oh my god.”
“No wayyyy!”
“Holy shit!”
“Corey, watch your language.”
“This must be some sort of record. I mean, what are the odds we all got hole-in-one so many times in a row?”
“Looks like we got a family of aces, right kiddos?”
“Are you going to go?” Genesis asked, nonchalantly. “The whole circuit is open to us now. We don't have to be slow and wait for anyone else to finish.”
Fiore’s eyebrows raised, suddenly wise to what was happening, and DeBlanc nodded in confirmation.
“If you use your power one more time we are leaving.”
“No, no, no, no, please don’t make us leave. I promise I’ll be good.”
“I’m writing that down. Right here.” DeBlanc tapped his temple. “Don’t make me feel sorry for having to discipline you, because it only hurts both of us.”
“I promise I will not use my power again.”
“When we are outside among Mortals,” Fiore added.
“I promise I will not use my power again when outside among Mortals.”
“Well, I believe them.”
“Good enough for me.”
The game continued.
* * * * *
HOLE THIRTEEN
Genesis – 16; Fiore – 36; DeBlanc - 47
“You’re cheating.”
“By points I’m losing. Why would I cheat just to lose?”
“I saw you kick the ball in at the end of hole eleven and you have been penalized accordingly.”
“You can’t prove I did that.”
“DeBlanc, this behavior sets a terrible example for our child. They have to learn to respect rules!”
“He totally cheated,” Genesis offered.
DeBlanc pressed a hand to his chest, face full of exaggerated offense. “Suspicion and betrayal! From my own family of all people. How could you?”
“Fiore’s just mad, because he’s not as good as I am,” Genesis said.
“I bet you’re sabotaging me.” Fiore shook his finger in DeBlanc’s face.
“You're not even doing badly, angel."
"I'm capable of performing better," Fiore muttered.
"There's no need to take it so seriously."
“If I see you cheating again you will incur more penalties.”
“I cannot believe this. I want to do something fun as a family and this is the thanks I get.”
“Pen-al-ties.”
“All right. I’ll reject my devilish nature in the name of good sport if that makes you happy, my dear.”
Fiore caught no more rule breaking after that (to his disappointment). The only person he could blame for his lack of skill was himself.
* * * * *
HOLE EIGHTEEN
Genesis – 23; Fiore – 49; DeBlanc – 64
“I don’t think you did too badly,” Fiore said, a hand reassuringly rubbing at the small of DeBlanc's back.
“It’s adorable that you believe I need consolation for losing a simple game.”
“Next time you’ll do better!” Genesis said. “See?” They held out a Free Game chip.
“Where on Earth did you get that?”
“On Earth? Is that not obvious?”
“I mean ‘how did you get that?’”
“Oh! You see it’s a game of luck, but you put your ball in here and it falls through all these holes and slots and if it gets into the small Free Game slot the girl gives you a chip. I won and I didn’t even manipulate it at all.”
“I’m proud of you, Genesis.”
“You spoil him. He shouldn’t be praised simply for not being bad.”
“Small steps, my dear. I’m just happy there are no corpses to clean up. Ours or any unsuspecting civilians.”
“Suppose it could be much worse,” Fiore admitted.
“Yes, it could be,” Genesis said.
“Don’t go getting any ideas now.”
* * * * *
“The internet says it’s called a sunburn. We can apply some topical creams, but otherwise it should go away on its own. Stop here, we can pick some up.”
“I suppose killing you would be unnecessary to correct such a small aesthetic flaw. But we should investigate how we can prevent it in the future. You know, for next time.”
“Next time? Really?” Genesis leaned over from the back, head squeezed between the passenger and driver seats.
“We did earn a Free Game chip. It would be a shame not to use it. Here we are.” Fiore had braked in front of the local drugstore. “Go fix yourself up.”
* * * * *
“Do you have anything to prevent, ah, sunburn?”
“There’s aloe vera cream in aisle 4. And hats in aisle 6 if you don’t want it to get that bad in the future,” the clerk offered.
DeBlanc thankfully found the cream without too much confusion, and then turned the corner to see Genesis rubbing their chin, appraising a large hat rack. The entity pointed to a garishly large, off white cowboy hat.
“You’re getting this one.”
“That’s really a bit . . . much.”
“Come onnnnnnnn. There’s two! You can get matching ones.”
DeBlanc turned the hat over in his hand. It did seem the type of silly object Fiore would find endearing. More convincingly, there was nothing else on the rack he would ever remotely consider putting on his head, too many garish logos. And Fiore might look dashing in it.
He was right of course. Fiore did look dashing in it. At home the angel preened in the mirror, examining his own face and body. DeBlanc, equally mesmerized, watched Fiore turn until DeBlanc could catch his eye and beckon him forward to slump down into the seat next to him on the soft green couch. Fiore pulled his legs up, folding his hands over them, as DeBlanc’s hand gently took his hat off and stroked the sparse hair underneath. He listened to the pattern of Fiore’s breathing, still new, the need to take in and expel air. At first it had been difficult to remember and they’d had a few corpses to dispose of, but eventually they’d gotten the hang of it. DeBlanc quite liked it in the end, how he could always hear Fiore moving about, hear and feel Fiore existing. No longer the Heavenly hum, this was more visceral , and when the sounds of their breaths combined, as it did now, a novel kind of intimacy grew between them.
“Good day?” he asked.
Fiore chuckled lightly into the side of DeBlanc’s neck.
“Yes, good day.”