Angels on Overtime: A Divine Romantic Comedy

“Now, the thing about karma,” Blake continues, “is there’s really no such thing as karma. At least there’s no karma from ‘out there’ determining how to even up a scoreboard. There’s only what the human decides is his or her karma. Even Hitler has no karma—at least nothing from outside of him. He’s created his own hell for himself, of course.” He points to the angels with the laptops. “But every last bit of that is accounted for in their calculations so they can offer guidance.”

“That the humans won’t listen to.”

“They do. Except when they don’t. It’s all good.”

Blake lets Brooke ponder those words for several moments, and they disappear...

...and appear in a bathroom. A young man, the flesh of his bare chest and arms covered in tattoos, ears gauged, presses a razor blade to his wrist.

Brooke gasps. “I thought when you said ‘Let’s go somewhere else,’ that meant it’d be a little easier.”

“One place is always as good as another.”

“Right. I believe you.”

The young man’s angels cry out to him. “Jason, you’re needed here! This doesn’t take care of anything! You can’t skip steps. You want to make it here. You are so loved!”

At a knock on the door, Jason pushes the razor blade into his skin. His angels amplify their appeals to him. He stops. But with another knock, the razor goes slightly deeper. And, as his father kicks the door open, the cold metal pierces the vein and then—viciously, deeply—he slashes several other areas on the insides of both of his lower arms.

“Oh, Jason, no!” the man screams. “No, no, no, no!” He gathers his son into his arms. Jason’s mother appears in the doorway, but not for long.

“Call 911,” the father shrieks.

Brooke and Blake ride in the ambulance along with the young man, his parents, and an extremely active medical team who are applying bandages along with pressure to try to stem the bleeding.

“It’s not time yet,” Jason’s head angel says to him.

“There’s so much you came here to do,” says another.

But losing the significant amount of blood—second to his desire—brings Jason’s breathing and heart to a stop. This combination allows his light form to dislodge slightly from his physicality—hands and feet first, then his head, which is followed by the rest of his light body.

“He’s not breathing,” shouts one of the paramedics. Jason’s parents sob.

“I don’t want to stay,” his spirit self tells his angels. “I don’t. And I don’t have to.” He notices several light beings behind them. The light beings get brighter and brighter, especially one of them.

“Grandpa!” Jason’s light self shouts.

“Everyone is welcomed home,” Blake tells Brooke. “There are really no mistakes. They really can’t get it wrong. And perhaps his leaving would be a necessary part of the paths of those around him. But....”

Jason’s grandfather grabs him and holds him in a long, long embrace. Then he abruptly pushes him away.

“But Grandpa!”

His eyes shine and love streams from every inch of his entire being, but the grandfather shakes his head.

“I want to be with you,” Jason beseeches. “I want to come home.”

“Home is wherever you are,” his grandfather says. “And however you are. Nothing of your soul’s journey will change if you do this.”

“But—”

“Not one thing would change. Yes, you can leave; you can do whatever you want. You can’t get it wrong. But here, there, anywhere—your work has to be done. So you might as well stay and work it out. Make your home here on Earth and,” he touches Jason’s heart, “here.”

Jason’s hands and feet of light seem to dock, even click, back into his physical hands and feet. Then his head of light clicks into his physical head, followed by the rest of his light body clicking into his physical form.

The paramedic puts an ear to his mouth. “Wait, wait. He’s still here. He’s breathing,” he smiles to the parents.

Jason’s mother lets out a wail. “Thank you, thank you,” she gushes between sobs. A defensive lineman might’ve had a hard time keeping her from pulling the medical team away. She drops to her knees beside the stretcher and wraps her arms around her son. Jason’s father also kneels and wraps his arms around both of them.

Blake turns to Brooke. “So you see, there’s really no way to get it wrong here,” he says. “But some places may be better for them to be than others at any given point in time.”

Brooke watches as the young man’s parents continue to hold him and each other. Blake taps Brooke on her arm. “Alright, my lovely. It’s time for some more field trips.” He takes her hand in his and...