Remember

By Jerome Lucido

Are you kidding? This is a book about Christmas, angels, demons, a Manhattan coffee place, a Sicilian college professor, stampeding Roman chariots, seven-foot-tall Persian mercenaries on eight white Percheron stallions guiding wealthy Persian teachers and astrologers to Bethlehem, Joseph, Mary, a mule named Samson, and twenty-square-mile patches of night sky plastered with a video of Mary and Joseph traveling in a carpenters wood hauler. Yeah, thats right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512749595

Jerome Lucido

Jerome Lucido began writing when he was seven years old and created The Tiger (not exactly on the level of Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, but hey, Kipling wasn’t seven when he wrote his classic). Unhappily, the start of Lucido’s writing career lasted about a week because he also began playing stickball in the streets of Brooklyn at that time and said good-bye to writing since he was destined to play center field for the Yankees. Thirteen years later, he returned to his typewriter. (What else can be said?) The Yanks didn’t think they needed Jerome, but he still had a typewriter, so he’s back at putting words on a page again.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Y ou’re late.

Anthony Romano had no idea what the owner of Manhattan’s busiest coffee shop was talking about, since it was seven o’clock Saturday morning.

What am I late for, Vito?

Your meeting.

I don’t have any meetings today.

The guy sitting in booth three says you do—with him—and he’s waiting.

Anthony turned and saw a man about his own age, clean shaven, built like a Recon Marine, sitting I-beam straight in the shop’s only booth facing 34th street. He was sipping Vito’s Ireland coffee, the one selection Vito served.

Who is he, Vito?

How should I know? He walked in eight minutes ago and asked for you. I told him I rarely see you on weekends, especially Saturdays; he thanked me, ordered a cappuccino then sat down in the front booth saying he’d wait. I tell him I rarely see you on Saturdays and he tells me he’ll wait. Crazy, right? But hey, this is New York. Go ask him your questions and maybe you’ll get some answers. I got customers to serve.

Hold it! Why would a stranger be waiting for me to arrive when I don’t have an appointment to meet anyone in your coffee shop this morning, especially ‘anyone’ I’ve never seen before?

Vito was walking away as Anthony spoke, then turned with an open-handed, palms up shrug as old as the Roman Coliseum and grunted, Unh. Carmine, the pastry chef was placing two bear claw trays into the store’s display racks and saw Vito’s shrug.

Hey Tone, is this about the guy in booth three? Carmine’s smile, when he heard his boss’ grunt indicated that Carmie—everybody called the pastry chef that—knew something about the mystery man.

Yeah, do you know who he is, Carmie?

Not really, but I think he knows you. Tony looked at the pastry chef, eyes wide and penetrating, jerking his head slightly down-up, down-up three or four times, waiting for more information. I was setting out the crullers when he came in and mentioned your name to Vito, so I purposely took longer arranging the display shelves to hear what the guy was saying about you.

Romano looked again at the stranger in Vito’s coffee shop. And what did you hear?

Basically that he has an important message for you that’s important.

Anthony snorted at the unnecessary repetition in Carmine’s words. You know you’re repeating yourself, don’t you?

So what? This ain’t no grammar class and you ain’t doin’ your professor thing on me; trash the grammar lesson and go talk to the guy like Vito said. You’ll find out who he is, how he knows you, and why he’s here looking for you. As for me, I must leave you now Tone, so in the words of Portuguese fishermen, ‘Yaya Contata’ or is it ‘Vaya Condelta? Vaya Consuela’ maybe, or some such thing? Who cares! Gotta run and take my buns out of the oven. Carmine laughed, I just love saying that then disappeared through the swinging doors of Vito’s kitchen.

It was time for some answers and Anthony walked over to the booth where the stranger had been sitting, but was now standing to greet him.

I overheard your conversation with the coffee shop owner and apologize for the confusion I created for you Anthony; showing up unannounced, telling your friends I wished to speak with you about an important matter must be exasperating, to be sure.

Yeah, a little. I assume you’ve had similar information deficit experiences with people you’ve met who knew—to quote pastry chef Carmine—‘a lot about you’ while you knew much less about them.

No, that has never happened to me, Anthony, nor will it ever happen.

The stranger realized he had said too much when Tony’s face contorted at has never happened, nor will it ever happen.

"I’m a little confused Mr.—

And again I am responsible for your confusion, so let me go back and start at the very beginning.

Which is, as I’ve heard Julie Andrews sing, ‘a very good place to start’!

Yes. The man laughed and extended his hand across the table for a more formal meeting with Anthony. "Julie Andrews was superb as Maria in The Sound of Music and her voice was magnificent—I’d even say, angelic. Good to meet you, Anthony; I am Gabe, but there are many who call me G."

G? Really? I don’t know if that’s rude, presumptuous or both. Why would anyone use the first letter in your name instead of the name itself when speaking with you?

I’m not sure, but for the record, did you not at the age of sixteen refer to a new boy in your neighborhood with the first letter of his last name whenever you spoke with him, a letter which, coincidentally, was also G?

Yes, but that was—wait! How did—? Wait a minute! You’re referring to Frankie G, and you’re reminding me of something I did in my life twenty-four years ago? Did we just step into the Twilight Zone and what’s happening now has nothing to do with reality? Am I dreaming and will shortly awaken to the sound of Josh Groban’s, ‘You raise me up’ on my alarm clock? Is this an elaborate Thanksgiving joke playing out for my benefit as we speak? No! Of course not! Still, this morning has become majorly goofy with—I gotta say it Gabe—a capital G!

Anthony and G laughed without restraint, bringing Vito out of the kitchen and over to their table.

So, what does all the laughter mean? The two of you really do know each other from way back, and just now, Tony, you remembered that you did?

Nothing like that Vito. This gentleman is still a mystery for me, yet in some way he possesses very specific knowledge about me. Knowledge dating back two decades, at least, that he was just about to explain. Now, Vito, you have as much information about this moment in time as I do, but once G here explains everything to me, which, as I just said, he is about to do, I’ll fill you in. Until then, however, we will continue to float around in the Twilight Zone or whatever this place we are now occupying is called.

Vito responded. This place we are now occupying is called Vito’s Coffee Place, not Vito’s Twilight Zone Coffee Place. And I expect to hear the entire weird story that brought the two of you together today once you figure out how to remember it, or G manages to tell it, since he seems to be the only one who has any knowledge of what’s going on.

They all laughed as Anthony rose out of his seat and raised his coffee mug. Here, here! We drink to Vito who sees clearly through the quagmire that has sucked us down into horrendous confusion; we drink also to G whose lucid explanation will shortly raise us up to higher, solid ground and perfect understanding.

Vito joined the toasting; And as owner of this establishment, I’ll drink to both proposals, then quickly seek refuge in my kitchen once more, before the madness that seems to exist in both your minds, infiltrates any deeper into mine.

All three of them laughed and Vito returned to his kitchen. Anthony folded his arms, pushed himself back into the plush booth cushion, stared into G’s eyes and waited for the revelation he was about to be given.

Okay, Gabe, you have the floor.

Thank you, but please don’t ask any questions about the things you’ll hear in the next few minutes. Until I’m finished with my explanation, your questions will only make it more difficult for you to understand my visit to planet earth.

There you go again! Planet Earth! What kind of statement is—?

No! No questions, no observations, no drawn conclusions until I’m finished and you accurately understand why I’m here and what we hope to accomplish through the project that begins today.

Anthony raised both hands, palms facing G, and nodded a gesture of peaceful consent. Go ahead.

My name is Gabriel; I am a messenger sent to planet Earth to enlist you in an astounding mission of global proportions that you will accomplish in the next thirty days with my help.

Gabriel stopped talking briefly to scrutinize any reaction Anthony had to the announcement he just made. There was none. His brand new acquaintance remained absolutely controlled and kept looking at Gabriel for what would follow, a reaction that was surprising.

I’m pleased with your composure after hearing what I just revealed, Anthony. Given everything I was required to know about you before being commissioned for this assignment, I thought you would be more energized by what I said: exploding with questions in spite of my ‘No questions, observations, conclusions’ rule when I began. By not reacting in that way, I’m thinking you may have deduced who I am and what that knowledge means to my being here. Am I correct?

Anthony paused for more time than normal, and Gabriel, no ordinary conversationalist, knew the kind of thoughts swirling in Anthony’s mind because he was responsible for planting them by revealing his knowledge of Frankie G. and the twenty-year memory still existing in Anthony’s mind.

You are correct, Gabriel. I was searching for answers to the questions I did not ask at the beginning of our conversation, but don’t give me too much credit for my conclusions. There was something about the way you described yourself in possession of all necessary information to conduct successfully your present mission. And when speaking of your visitation here today, instead of referring to New York or Manhattan, Thirty-fourth-street or Tony’s Coffee Place, you kept mentioning your destination as planet earth. You were also careful to explain that never in any interaction between yourself and some ‘other’ entity was your knowledge about that ‘other’ in any way deficient. You always operated from a position of superior understanding and I acknowledged that as a simple indisputable truth, not inflated ego designed to impress.

Tony stopped talking, finally realizing how utterly bizarre it was for him to be speaking with G. This is really blow your mind wild, Gabriel! Well, not your mind, but mine for sure. Even now as we speak my brain is conducting its own version of a couple thousand Independence Day fireworks display finales! And why is that? The answer is obvious. You’re an angel and you stand in the presence of the Creator God, who sent you here to recruit and train me for a mission—I can only imagine—of galactic importance.

That is correct.

Tony stopped talking once more, took a gigantic breath and blew it out. Cryminy! Few people say ‘cryminy’ in the twenty-first century, Gabe, I know that. I’m using it now only because this moment demands ‘cryminy’ more than any other in my entire life.

Anthony paused again, his eyes scrutinizing Gabriel with electron microscope precision, then began to speak in a deliberate clop, clop staccato cadence, giving each word the force of a one word exclamation: "I-AM-SPEAKING-WITH-A-LIFE-FORM-DIFFERENT-FROM-ME-WHO-HAD-HIS-BEGINNING-DURING-THE-EARLY-DAYS-OF-CREATION-WHEN-THE-CREATOR-SPOKE-INTO-EXISTENCE-EVERYTHING-ELSE-MAKING-THAT-LIFE-FORM-WHO-IS-YOU—G—AS-OLD-AS-THE UNIVERSE-ITSELF!

Tony paused and took a cleansing breath. Oh yeah, Gabe! You had my mind in hyper-drive within seconds of our meeting because of things you said, how you said them and the expression on your face when you said them. I realized the clues you were dropping were designed to soften the impact of your identity when you finally chose to admit to me that you are Gabriel, one of only two angels in the Bible who are named.

Gabriel was smiling at his new partner. Excellent, Antonio. I anticipated your seminary training would help us communicate on a more even plane and it has. I am pleased.

That’s all well and good. But know this; it will only become more difficult for me to maintain the equilibrium and composure you just alluded to as you reveal further aspects of the mission we will accomplish in the next thirty days. An experience like this doesn’t happen to me every other Saturday.

Anthony stopped talking and stared at Gabriel who said nothing. He would give his newest acquaintance as much time as he needed and, though neither one of them was keeping track of time, for ten of the next twenty minutes Vito and Carmine observed them through the diamond shaped glass in the middle of the kitchen’s swinging doors.

What are they doing, Vito?

Looking at each other.

What, like a stare down?

No, no, no. They’re almost at the end of the talk they’re having and I’m guessing Anthony has a few more things to say.

"How do you know?

"I don’t know; didn’t you just hear me say, I’m guessing?

Oh, yeah, I did. Go on.

I’ve seen that look on Tony’s face many times and it means ‘I have a few more questions.’

Vito was right. He knew Anthony Romano better than Tony’s parents knew their own son.

"A few more