How to Be a Guardian Angel -- Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The suffocating sensation of a blanket over my face is what made me return from my little world; not the sounds of plastic bags that I should have heard when Cash had come back. I didn’t move from my spot, but instead looked out the windows to regain my bearings. It was futile, given that the raining clouds didn’t tell time. The purple-black masses didn’t give me the chills they once had, but now, as I watched them, I almost understood them. With a weak smile, I closed my eyes, and listened to more of what was going on around me. A navy blue comforter was what was covering me carefully, placed there right out of it’s new bag by Cash. From around the kitchen came the sounds of bags being emptied and boxes being opened. Then, it was the unclasping of a case that made me leap up.

The sound was too familiar, as I looked over to where Cash was huddled, to be anything other than what I knew it was. My old companion, my treasure, had to be just beyond there.

“Cash?” I asked, as he looked back to where I was standing, hand on the counter.

“Yes, Ang?” He said, his half smile placed perfectly on his lips. My smile couldn’t have been broader as I skidded knees first next to him to see what he’d opened, and there – in front of my new eyes – sat my guitar, cleaned and freshly stringed.

“You really did keep it for me,” I whispered, almost in shock. Cash nodded as he picked the guitar up gently and held it up for me to see.

“Of course, I had to do some vanity work on it. All those dings and dents didn’t really work for you – you deserved something nice. I guess, though, I knew you wouldn’t want to part with your old friend.”

I didn’t know what to say to him, as he stood and began unloading more bags. “I went to my storage locker to get it. You may need to tune it – because it’s been sitting there for a month or two. The strings are some of the latest, so it may not be too bad. You know new strings though, always finicky.” I took my time looking over the instrument, and found where the biggest of the gashes in the guitar’s finish had been. The fix on it was very clean, and it took me a few seconds to find it, but the nostalgia of the instrument made me feel like I could fly. The music that suddenly flooded my mind once more made me smile – each and every word weighed with many memories.

And now, the memories didn’t seem so bad.

Closing the guitar back in it’s case for now, I stood to look at what Cash was doing. Already on the counter top lay multiple pairs of jeans, socks, a few tee shirts and what looked like four sweaters that looked more than a little expensive.

“Cash, why’s all of this here?” I asked, though I already had guessed his answer.

“You can’t wear those every day, can you?” He asked, looking me over with a questioning smile. I shrugged, and pulled a quick retort.

“You never complained before – I’ve almost always dressed like this,” I said, and leaned my elbows on the counter, peeking into another bag casually. There was a jacket in there. A pea coat, to be exact. It’s black fabric looked soft, but before I reached in, Cash distracted me. “Why don’t you go change? I mean, I’d like to know that I got the right stuff.” He said, looking away conveniently as I tried to see his expression.

“Fine,” I said, hiding the curiosity that had suddenly bitten the back of my mind.

I went into his room, a couple bags in hand, and closed the door. I locked it, quietly, then set the bags on the floor. Fresh underwear made me blush, as I opened the bags. Then, I saw the clothes. Jeans, a tee shirt, a sweater. Socks, and my sneakers. A 'well-collected casual', I thought. Making sure my long hair was still tied back, I walked out.

“Okay, genius. How do I look?” I asked. He looked away from the TV, and after a brief moment, smiled broadly.

“Well, it’s good to know that my guessing skills are dead on,” he said, and then ran a hand through his blonde hair.

“That doesn’t answer the question,” I sighed, putting a flippant hand on my hip and eying him. He arched an eyebrow at the attitude, but then laughed quietly.

“You look great, Krista. You always do.” He said, unfazed by his own words. I blushed again, realizing that he’d actually been looking.

Then, I realized I was blushing. Okay, so I could blush? But, I couldn’t cry? No, that wasn’t the case. I hadn’t cried before, because I didn’t need to. The thought made me frown, but then I thought better of it, and walked over to join him over at the sofa. Cash moved his feet off of the other side of the sofa to let me sit next to him, and I almost automatically recognized the old action movie he was watching. “Big Trouble in Little China?” I asked, almost surprised with his taste.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, looking at me with a puzzled look. “Oh, nothing.” I said, and snuggled in with the comforter Cash once again put over me.

“I bought an air mattress, too. So even if you don’t want to accept the perfect hospitality, you’ll have something better than a sofa.” He reached over and ruffed the top of my head playfully, even slightly condescendingly, but I knew it was still a friendly gesture.

The movie continued on, but before long my attention was drawn away by Cash – though not though anything he was doing. Looking at him as he watched the movie, I wondered how I had never guessed that he was immortal. I mean, sure, he’d never been injured in any of the fights I’d known about. He’d also never had a single blemish – no acne, no old scars – though I’d always supposed he’d just been a lucky teenager. He was a couple years older than me, in appearance. Maybe 21? 23? I’d never asked – and he’d never told. His blonde hair reflected the dim light from the outside, as we’d turned the lights down a few moments after my sitting down. His dark eyes focused on the movie, or at least seemed to. Part of me told me he knew I was looking at him – but was letting me be.

Shifting so that I wouldn’t be able to look at him anymore, I decided to close my eyes. I’d seen the movie many times before – my father had enjoyed the movie almost as much as my siblings had, what seemed like so long ago now. It seemed like so much had changed since the naive years I’d spent at home. Sighing, I swallowed the fact that I would never be able to go back to those days. Maybe it would be best to forget them, even.

It wasn’t until now that I realized I’d actually returned to my numb place – and had apparently seemed to have fallen asleep. Cash was walking around, and when I opened my eyes, I saw the mattress was inflated. He was walking to his room, apparently leaving me for the evening. “Goodnight, Krista.” He said, looking back at me. Yes, he did know when I was looking at him.

“Goodnight, Cash.”

When he was in his room, the door closed, I went to lay on the bed. Realizing that I was still in my clothes, I walked over to the plastic bags. Finding a pair of pajama shorts, I took my new jeans off, and laid them and the sweater on the counter once I’d refolded them.

How to Be a Guardian Angel -- Chapter 5

Chapter Five

“Whoa, Krista. Chill out – you just left a dent in the wall!” Cash said, putting a hand on my shoulder, and easing my head away from the dent. It was then that I realized that even the way I perceived physical contact was different.

“Cash, what’s wrong with me?” I asked.

Cash looked at me like I’d asked a ridiculous question. “Nothing, Angel. Why would you ask?” He said, placing fingers gently in my hair, his full attention on me again.

“What’s wrong with me?” I asked again. “Don’t play coy – what’s going on with my body. I can’t feel pain?” My voice became even more scared as I looked desperately at him, wondering if an Angel was something I could really deal with being.

“No, you can’t. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” He said. “What about heat? Or the cold?” I asked. “It’s nearly winter, and I couldn’t tell the difference outside.”

Cash sighed, and laid against the arm of the sofa, his feet across my lap. “Welcome to my world, Krista. It’s the life of anybody who’s an Angel. The Fallen are the same way; We don’t feel or experience the same things as humans, and we can never be like them again.”

“Can we die?” I asked.

Cash only shook his head in reply.

“But what if I don’t want to do this?” I asked.

“There is no choice. We don’t get to pick, Krista. Damn it, I thought that point was clear.”

I looked at him, knowing that if I could have had it that way, my eyes would be red from crying – but no tears came, not even the sting of them hiding behind my eyes. Gripping a pillow, and feeling the material beginning to tear under my hold, I tried to calm down. However, I guessed it was just another quirk to be unable to let this fury go.

Cash sat there for a while, as I simply sat and glared out the window, and across the lower buildings in this part of New York. It seemed that he got bored afterward, and began to wander about his apartment. It was large, and had multiple bedrooms –one of which he disappeared into. He didn’t return, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later that I heard the water of the shower, faint from through the two doors that now separated us.

The silence, as I realized that I was no longer in neutral territory, seemed a little awkward as I sat and looked more thoroughly around the area, noticing that there were no pictures, not even paintings. The walls were a barely-there blue that reminded me of icicles, and the floor’s carpets were nearly jet black, and pristine. It seemed that even my shoes, though as miraculously clean as they were, hadn’t left a speck of dust behind. Expensive was the first word that came into my mind, and once again I was forced to wonder how Cash really had come up with all the money.

There was a set of keys on the marble counter near what appeared to be a fully functioning glass stove top, and a rather large refrigerator. Opening the fridge, I noticed it was stockpiled. Taking a fruit soda from the door, I opened it quietly. The view from the place may have once been majestic for me, but now, it almost felt like a cage.

Gritting my teeth as the near painful carbonation touched the back of my throat, I realized that the water from the shower was now off. Cash had always taken lightening fast showers, but I took the silence as a sign that Cash would be back soon.

Sitting down in a different chair that faced the wall I’d dented, I closed my eyes and simply listened as Cash moved quietly about in his room. Then, I thought about my own wardrobe. The clothes that I had died in, which were on me now, were somehow clean and almost looked as new as they had been when I’d bought them – when I’d still been living at home. With the family that had left me to die. Just like I eventually had.

They would never know. They would never care. To them, I never even existed. I didn’t formally exist. The reality of the situation still burned whatever of a heart I had left. Gripping the can until I knew that, any tighter, the soda would be spilling all over the chair and the carpet. Hearing Cash not far away, I knew that damaging more of his property wasn’t going to win me any favors.

“Hey, Krista.” He said, his voice from above me. I opened my eyes and cocked my head back to look for him. He was looking over the top of the lounge chair, his dark eyes the only thing that gave a clue to the fact he knew he’d scared me.

“Yea?” I asked, taking a deep breath and looking at him more with more focus than before. Casually, he brushed a piece of hair from my face.

“So, where do you want to sleep – I mean, you can have my bedroom if you want. I’m fine with the sofa.” He said, and then walked over to it, flopping at his fully length across it, smiling lazily, looking very much like a cat as he eyed me.

“I’m fine with the sofa,” I said. Surely, I wasn’t going to sleep much anyways, so why steal the host’s bed? I sighed, and stood, and walked towards the floor to ceiling windows that looked onto the balcony, and from there, to the great view before it.

“You sure, Angel?” He asked, not moving from where he was. I nodded, and then there was a sighed ‘okay’.

He then grabbed a jacket and some keys – giving the impression that he had necessary errands to run. Leaving me with his now otherwise empty apartment, the TV remote, and the passing phrase ‘help yourself’, I lay stomach-down on the floor to channel surf. Of course, the place I inevitably landed on was one of many music channels. The Eminem Rewind, I figured, wouldn’t be that bad to listen to. Letting my mind focus more on the lyrics than my own problems, I settled into a numb mentality as I listened for other signs of life near myself, and the music.

The wings on my back still made themselves known with a mild weight that eventually made me decide to lay on my side, facing the great windows. The bright sky of the afternoon I'd returned to had faded with dull purple clouds, and I decided that – if I ever really had a chance – I was going to ask the Big Man himself why he’d chosen me of all people to be an Angel. Sure, I hadn’t had much going for me, before, but what was I supposed to do now?

I was a dead 17 year old girl with a family that wouldn’t remember me. I had bright white wings that no normal person could see – but I could see every body else’s wings, the ghost wings of fallen angels, and various tell-tales of demons. Nobody knew me, and it was apparent that it even with the number of people who had puzzled second glances at me before, I was going to be an unnoticed passer-by in a lot of peoples lives. Transient, unnoticed, and immortal. Unchanging.

I would never grow up, never grow old, never get married, never have kids. It was the classic undead-child tragedy, and yet, this was only all the more ironic. God had given this to me, and it couldn’t be revoked just by asking.

Still numb, without even a tear or a clenched fist, I closed my eyes and shut my heart to the thoughts and dull emotions that wanted to rise in my throat like bile. Nothing like tears was going to help me - so why waste them? Draping a wing over my exposed side, I covered myself and dragged my consciousness under and into a dark place that not even my memories would touch.

My safety zone.