by A A Bavar
“Who are you? Did you come to get my mommy?”
“What? What did you say?”
“My mommy’s sick again. She has to see the doctor, but I want to go, too. When I was sick, mommy gave me medicine that made my tummy all better. I want to tell the doctor to give mommy my medicine. But it tastes yucky, so we can’t tell mommy. Okay?”
This was definitely not part of my plan. I should have gone straight to Mary. I looked down at the little girl and kneeled.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
The little girl looked at me and frowned. I had violated some unknown rule and almost wished it was Lucifer that I had to contend with instead. I cleared my throat and decided to forget about the introductions.
“Mary is waiting for me. Can you take me to see her, little one?” Little one? I don’t know what I was thinking, but panic would be the right definition if I knew what it was.
She pondered a moment and said, “I did a bad thing. Mommy says I should never open the door without asking.” Then, as she turned and motioned for me to follow, she continued, “You have to take the hair off your face, mommy won’t like that. And my name is Kay, for Kayleen!”
This was unique. I was being drilled and manhandled by a child. I walked in and followed Kay, barely paying attention to my surroundings. But all of a sudden, I felt a tremendous calm and as we walked through the brightly lit hallway, I noticed the faintest smell of jasmine and roses. Kay had a good home, a loving home.
We went up to the second floor and Kay stopped outside her mom’s door and turned to look at me. I felt my heart skip a beat and hoped that she wouldn’t start with the questions again.
“Mommy says, soon God will take care of her. Are you God? Will you take her to heaven?”
I stood there looking at her dumbfounded. What was it that this little creature wanted from me? I was ready to confess to anything if she would just stop asking questions. To my relief, we were interrupted.
“Kay, who are you talking to, honey?” asked Mary from inside the room.
Kay turned and marched in. I followed. Mary was in bed, propped up by pillows. There were two vases with roses in them, one on the bedside table and another by the window, and the room smelled like a rose garden.
“This man came to see you. I don’t think he’s a doctor. Doctors are all clean and wear white coats with lots of pens. I think he might be God, but he’s all hairy and not glowy like the pictures.”
It’s not uncommon for children to sense the presence of angels or even connect with them in their dreams, but this was something unique. I felt her soul bond with me, and I knew that at some level Kay recognized who I was and she wasn’t afraid.
Mary, however, did not acknowledge me and kept her eyes fixed on Kay. She was smiling.
“Kay, honey, please go and play in your room. Mommy needs to talk to the nice doctor alone.”
“Okay, mommy. Can I have a cookie?”
“How about an apple? Let’s keep this doctor away for as long as possible.”
“Aww.”
Kay took a step to leave but then stopped. She looked up at me and slowly walked to her mother’s bed. Mary watched in silence as Kay carefully climbed up and lay down in her arms. It was only after Kay left the room that Mary looked at me for the first time since my arrival. With Kay gone, I felt my usual self – that perpetual anger took over – and although I was very curious about Mary, my feelings were once more guarded and locked. That brief moment of vulnerability and openness that Kay had aroused was gone, but not without leaving an impression. It had taken a while, but now I understood what a certain philosopher told me as he submissively awaited his fate in front of a firing squad for a punishment that far surpassed his crime; the soul is healed by being with children.
Mary wasn’t shy or intimidated, and her eyes quickly found mine. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Those eyes were familiar to me, and her face reminded me of another face at another time. What had I walked into? What was this place? She beckoned me to approach and I obeyed. I stood by her bed and looked down.
“You’re earlier than I had hoped. I thought maybe you would come later in the evening,” she said, and smiled.
“You can see the truth. How interesting. It’s been a very long time since someone saw me for who I am. And you’re right, later would be more romantic. But there’ll be no hero or dramatic final scene here. Just you and me,” I said dryly, and immediately regretted my tone. I didn’t want to be insensitive, not with her, but it was so natural. I cleared my throat and continued, “Did you have a happy life?”
Mary’s eyes remained fixed on mine and did not waver for a second. There was trust, compassion, and love in her stare and I was the student.
“You still care, even if you feel like you don’t want to.”
Sometimes when the truth is staring us in the face, we fail to see it and lash out in frustration. For me, frustration was my status quo and I didn’t know how else to respond but with anger.
“I think I have to reconsider my approach, because it’s obvious that I’m not ominous looking enough to you. Damn the movies with all their special effects. Maybe if I was holding this,” I said, as my scythe appeared in my grip. “Now do you fully realize who I am and why I’m here?”
“Yes, I do. Believe me. That’s because we’ve met once before. You let me hold your finger.”
I looked down at my hand, and there, wrapped around my index finger was a tiny hand. Millions and millions of souls and this was where our history had begun; a crashed car sinking in a river with baby Mary and her mother. The leaf I had that day was for Mary alone, and although the mother, in her delirious state, saw me and pleaded over and over for me to save her baby, that depended solely on the actions of other people. I was merely the courier, the angel you see when death is hanging on your shoulder. And it just happened that I was a bit early that day.
As I sat there in the back seat with Mary, who was strapped in her car seat and was unbelievably calm and amused by the water gushing in through the cracked driver’s side window, the front of the car started to sink. Water slowly filled the interior and Mary’s mother would soon be submerged. I looked on as she repeatedly tried to unlock her jammed seatbelt. Suddenly, she stopped her frantic efforts and looked at Mary, who was playing with my finger and trying to put it in her mouth. Then, she looked at me, and in that brief instant I felt her love and willingness to sacrifice her own life for that of her child. But there was nothing that I could do, it was beyond my control. I shook my head and witnessed how the tenderness that she felt for her child was replaced by unmeasurable grief and hatred towards me. But before she could say anything else, a man broke the passenger side window, cut the seatbelt and pulled her out of the sinking car. For a few moments, I heard her muffled cries, but that was soon replaced by eerie quietness.
Time was running out. In a few more seconds the car would sink.
“… take care of her for me…”
I heard the words and my eyes filled with tears, but they hadn’t before, not on that day; not in a thousand years.
“… my daughter, Kay, watch over her…”
I looked up, and the sight of Mary all grown up shook me out of my reverie.
“Martha,” I mumbled.
“No, Kay needs you. And your soul needs her even more.”
EIGHTEEN
I never go to funerals, what’s the point? It’s like paying to go to the movies to watch the end credits. But this time I had to be there for Kay. Mary had cornered me twice, once with her chubby little fingers and a second time with a request she knew I would not refuse. It’s not often that the angel of death connects with a mortal, and even less often that I don’t take a soul after spending time with it. But nothing was kosher about that day, especially the suicidal rescue by a young boy. And although Man is known for having a soft spot for heroics, he’s not necessarily a hero because he dies for it. In the end, another man’s sacrifice saved Mary in those last
few seconds and I ended up with a soul anyway.
So there I was, at Mary’s funeral, feeling somber and nervous at the same time. The sadness that I felt about her death and Kay’s loss was overshadowed by the petrifying feeling of being confronted by her questions. What did I know about kids, feelings and growing pains? As I walked the path to where the service was, I kept fiddling with the necklace and pendant in my overcoat pocket that Mary had given me to give to Kay. It was a message to Kay that she completely trusted me, and so should she. I was lost in these thoughts when I heard someone gulp in despair. I looked to my side and saw the gardener staring at me and the path of dead flowers and plants in my wake.
The group of people paying their last respects was small. Kay and Martha were standing together by the headstone holding hands. I walked up to them and softly called Kay. They both turned and I saw a sparkle of joy mixed with a hint of uncertainty in Kay. Martha, on the other hand, stumbled backwards, but managed to control her desire to run – that always puts a smile on my face. She pulled Kay closer and tried to shield her by pressing her body against hers. I looked at her and nodded, hoping to reassure her that I wasn’t there for her. She must have understood because she relaxed her grip. I took out the necklace and kneeled down in front of Kay.
“Hello, Kay.”
Kay was staring at the necklace in my hand with a frown. “That’s Mommy’s nine-pointed-star. How do you have it? Mommy said I could have it. But I couldn’t find it. Did you take it?”
“No, I didn’t take it. Your mommy wanted me to keep it safe and give it to you,” I said, and held out my hand.
Kay didn’t hesitate. She quickly stepped forward and put her hand on top of the necklace in my hand. We remained like that for a few seconds, hand in hand holding the necklace and then, without a word, together we put the necklace around her neck.
“Mommy is with Daddy and God now. I don’t think you’re God anymore. See what I put on their headstone,” she said, and pointed at the engraving.
The headstone was big, and it spanned both their graves. On it, in gold, was engraved, Father And Mother, I Love You. I looked at Kay and Martha and knew that I was part of her family, and soon would be her only family.
“Why are you sad? Are you going to say goodbye, like forever?”
“Yes and no,” I said, and smiled. Confuse the child and open the door to a thousand more questions, why don’t you, I thought to myself. But the truth was that I enjoyed it; enjoyed her. “I want to say goodbye to Mary, but never to you. Do you know what an angel is?”
Kay nodded.
“Well, I’m going to be your angel,” I said with a smile, and held out my hand. “Hi, my name is Azrail and I’m very happy to be your friend.”
Kay’s eyes opened wide as she lifted her eyebrows, but then immediately scrunched them down into a frown. “Aziral? Azlirail? I can’t say that!”
I put my hand back on my knee and gave a small chuckle. “Almost no one can, little one. There’s never really any time for pleasantries when I’m around. But you can call me Az, how about that?” The question was redundant, I could see the answer shining in her eyes and it caused an overpowering feeling of something in me. I wanted to lift her in my arms and keep her there; protect her. But that was impossible, so I did the next best thing and made a promise which I ultimately failed to keep. “Whenever you need anything, if you’re sad, if you’re scared, or just want to see me, close your eyes and think of me and I’ll be there before you know it,” I said, then whispered almost solely to myself, “I’ll protect you, little one.”
Kay looked at me but did not react or say anything. Then, before I knew what was happening, she threw herself into my arms and I knew what that feeling was; love.
NINETEEN
That day in the cemetery sealed our relationship, and I became Kay’s guardian, her new father figure. And although I never did anything that a human couldn’t do, I made sure that she knew that I would always be there for her instantly. So, I became her go-to person for everything from getting tucked in for the night to helping with baby Barbie’s diapers. But as much as I was a new, trusted friend for her, ultimately, she was the balm that healed my soul. Martha didn’t approve at first, but she also had no choice. It was her child’s dying wish, so she learned to accept it and eventually trust me.
The days, weeks, and months passed very quickly and soon it was time for the first day of school. I had been Man’s guardian longer than time itself, but never had I felt worry or any anxiety on his behalf. On that day, however, I felt completely lost and for the first time had a glimmer of what being human involves. My thought processes, rational and calculating as always, were at war with my completely irrational feelings. And hard as I tried, the sense of loss and apprehension gnawed at me relentlessly because I knew that sometimes the heart senses what the mind fails to see. Martha suggested that I walk Kay to school, and that way relax a little and enjoy the moment. I agreed, and with her small backpack on her back – covered with sparkles, stars, and a pink unicorn, we set off. It was a short walk, and soon we were in the school yard. Kay was overjoyed at seeing the playground with so many swings and a huge monkey bar.
“Do you think I can play in the playground?”
I smiled, she was going to be fine. I was the one who needed therapy for separation anxiety. “I’m sure that your teacher has playing in the playground at the top of her list.”
We walked into the school building and down the corridor to where Kay’s classroom was located. Kay stopped just short of the door and for the first time that morning, held my hand. I felt my head sway, and for an instant Mary’s chubby little fingers were once again wrapped around mine. It was that infinitesimal moment of reflection that reconciled my mind and heart and made me realize what was the driving force behind my uneasiness. It was not that it was too soon for Kay to leave the nest and explore the world on her own, but that I had exposed myself and her to Lucifer. Never since the creation of Man had I been so vulnerable, an Achilles heel in the form of a little girl, my little girl. And deep inside I knew that Lucifer would not stop at anything and that he would use her to get to me.
We walked into the classroom and there, standing by half a dozen kids, was a beautifully young and cheerful kindergarten teacher. She must have noticed us, because she turned to look at Kay, and after a warm smile, at me. Eyes are the window to Man’s soul, and in that brief glimpse I saw that she was selfless, kind and loving. Kay tugged at my hand, and we walked to her. She was excited to get things started and jumped right in with the questions. She was still holding my hand.
“Hi! Are you the teacher? Are we going to play in the playground? Grandma Martha made me a snack,” she said, looked up at me and then back at her teacher and continued, “I’m Kay and this is my angel.”
The amused look on the teacher’s face said it all. She looked at me with smiling eyes, but I was still in scout mode and oblivious.
“Nice to meet you Kay. Your angel looks very serious, but I love your necklace,” she said.
Kay didn’t respond, but instinctively touched her pendant with her free hand. I managed a half smile and shrugged somewhat embarrassed.
She smiled back and kneeled down to Kay’s height. “My name is Miss Diana. Why don’t we go find your desk?” she said, and held out her hand.
Kay looked up at me and I nodded my approval, it was time.
I stood there for a moment longer and watched her go before leaving.
TWENTY
Leave it to Lucifer to come knocking just when you start to believe that you have parted ways.
Months had gone by and we had settled into a routine. Kay loved school and even more so, she adored Miss Diana. They had developed a special bond, and I could tell that she also cared tremendously for Kay. As for me and Kay, we were inseparable, and although I wasn’t physically with her most of the time, we were always connected. Seeing and feeling through her was my healing process, and I felt different. There were moments of h
appiness and my faith in humanity was slowly re-rooting itself, and even though I didn’t understand why, I found myself intrigued by Diana.
That day, even though I was thousands of miles away, I knew that there was something wrong. I had an ominous feeling for some time, a coldness that touched me at random moments, but I ignored it hoping it was my old self trying to hold on to past realities. But when Kay called to me that night, all my fears came crashing down and, for the first time, I didn’t care about formalities or looks, and I simply appeared in her room.
Her room was dark, except for a small nightlight by her bed. I stood in the corner and watched for a second. Kay was lying on her side holding a small, cloth bear under her chin. Her eyes were closed, but I could hear her sobbing softly. I walked over and kneeled.
“You were calling me, little one? What’s wrong?” I asked that last question hoping that what I knew to be true would for once evade me.
Kay opened her eyes in surprise, but didn’t hesitate to sit and throw herself at me. I caught her and with her face buried in my leather coat, she asked, “But how? Where were you hiding?”
“I’m always with you, little one.”
She looked up at me with incredulous eyes. “So, you’re a real angel? I mean, like with wings and everything?”
It was an easy answer, and as I put her back in bed I said, “Yes, a real angel with wings and all.”
“And magic, too?”
I smiled. “I guess some people call it magic. Others, well…”
I don’t know what she imagined I was saying, but she became serious and grabbed my hand with her free hand, the other still holding the bear.
“And who is this?” I asked, motioning to bear.
“This is Baby Bear. He takes care of me, like you. But he doesn’t have wings or magic,” she said, then continued in a serious tone, “Can you use magic to find something that you lost? I mean, if someone took something that you gave them but didn’t want to. Can you get it back with magic?”