by Nyla Ditson
“I’m your guardian angel, not your boyfriend.”
The familiar panic of my dark nights tugged at my middle, forcing me to grit my teeth to refrain from crying out. “Who… who said anything about us being a couple?” I asked.
“You can see the assumption in people’s expressions,” Sebastian said, arching an eyebrow. “And I’ve heard you continually pretending in your thoughts that we are.”
I didn’t want to have this conversation, and hated with passion the fragments of my earlier disposition returning and plaguing my body now. “I’m scared of him, Sebastian,” I whimpered in the dimly lit living room. I’m scared of myself.
“That’s why I’m here,” Sebastian took my hand, “to protect you.”
As the word “protect” left his mouth, an uncertainty flared in Sebastian’s eyes as if he were in the midst of a tug-of-war with temptation. He shifted in his seat. After hesitating, he shocked me by bringing my hand to his lips. “I’m here to protect you… the one I love.”
His lips brushing against my skin and his angelic whisper sent a flourish of quivers throughout me. But among my enchantment, a devastating thought darted like an arrow into my heart.
I wondered if angels were capable of lying.
“How are things going with Sebastian and you?”
I dipped my plastic spoon into the creamy raspberry Yogen Früz and thought about Malaya’s question. Waiting in line for yogurt, she’d flung it at me just before dashing to the bathroom. Alone with my thoughts I easily knew the answer but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
We’d been at Metropolis at Metrotown Mall in Burnaby since ten that morning. After a trip on the SkyTrain, we stepped into my favorite mall. Because of its three levels and four hundred and fifty stores, it’s the largest mall in Vancouver.
Five minutes earlier, Malaya and I bought matching lingerie at La Senza. We’ve always been “undie buddies” and our underwear buying endeavours never fail to lure us into buying other “necessities”. The array of shopping bags, ranging from Aritzia, Jacob, Banana Republic, Smart Set and Sephora were splayed by my feet to prove it.
After I whined that my feet hurt, we stood in line for frozen yogurt. I ordered for both of us when Malaya took off for the washrooms.
I saw Malaya making her way back to the bench I was occupying. Her long hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid. Even in jean capris, a white tank top and big silver hoop earrings, Malaya was stunning. Maybe if I was exotic looking like her, Sebastian wouldn’t think twice about taking our relationship further. We hadn’t even kissed. Though he’d said he loved me, he’s been careful not to touch me since that night. But why would he say something then act in a contradicting way? Was it just a guy thing? Correction, an angel thing?
“Sorry, when a bladder’s about to burst, a girl’s gotta listen,” Malaya said and sat down. I handed her a white bowl of strawberry Yogen Früz. She ate a spoonful and closed her eyes. “Mmm. This stuff is seriously delish.”
“It makes for a decent grand finale for our shopping trip, eh?” I said, turning my eyes to my throbbing feet and arching an eyebrow.
Malaya planted one hand on her hip and gave me a saucy look. “Girl, I have a whole lotta energy left to spend and I’d just looovee to use it up shopping until this magical place closes.”
I laughed. “And how does your wallet feel about that idea?” Not to mention my feet!
Malaya shoved me. “Haven’t you heard? Planted me a money tree and now it’s a growin’.”
“In other words, you’re out of money now.”
“Pretty much.”
Giggling, we finished our yogurt. Malaya must have forgotten her earlier question and I wasn’t about to bring it up. Admitting your sort-of-boyfriend acts like you have leprosy isn’t something to brag about.
After tossing our garbage out, we started towards the mall entrance. A Naviskater, the malls unique form of customer service, saw me struggling to manage all my bags.
“Need some help?” he asked rollerblading over to me and Malaya.
“That would be nice,” I grunted, wondering if I should just let the Jacob bag sliding down my arm, drop.
“Actually, we’re fine,” Malaya said adjusting her own overflowing arms. “We’re not done shopping yet.”
The boy laughed, probably used to women’s eccentric shopping habits. “You ladies have a nice day,” he said and saluted against his helmet before skating off into the crowd.
I peered at Malaya over my bags. “What did you do that for?” I asked.
Malaya titled her head towards the Urban Behaviour store we were in front of and said, “Look.”
Inside the front window, a headless mannequin wore the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen. Crimson silk draped across the mannequin, ending just above the knee. A sweetheart neckline and full-banded waist made for an incredibly sexy look. The dress was sleeveless and the neckline was low enough for some serious cleavage.
I had to have it. The weather man said it was going to snow in PoCo this week, but who cared if I froze? At least I’d look hot. With a flawless up-do, smokey makeup and spikey black heels, even an angel wouldn’t be able to resist me.
Dropping my bags on the floor, I threw myself at Malaya. “It’s just what I need!” I exclaimed.
Her own bags slid to the floor as she hugged me back. “I know,” she whispered in my ear.
“You did?” I asked, pulling away slightly.
Malaya nodded. “I could see it in your eyes when I asked about Sebastian.”
We stepped apart and right there in front of Urban Behaviour, we sat on the floor, now dotted with our purchases, and settled ourselves in for a heart-to-heart.
“It’s like I’m repulsive to him or something,” I confessed, pulling my bags towards the wall and out of the path of other mall-goers.
“You know what I think?” Malaya asked.
I shot Malaya a hesitant look. Her ideas and opinions tend to be extravagant.
“I think Sebastian’s afraid. Under all that gorgeousness, he’s not brave enough to take the lead in your relationship.”
Technically, Sebastian hadn’t asked me to be his girlfriend so there wasn’t a relationship to take the initiative in. Still, I didn’t correct her.
“What should I do?”
Malaya’s rosy cheeks grew closer to her eyes when she grinned. “You make the first move.” She pointed to the mannequin inside the store window. “Show that boy what he’s missing out on by being shy.”
I thought of the mental snapshot I’d taken of Sebastian this morning. Golden side swept rock-star hair, eyes the colour of the Pacific, mouth frowning when I thought about what kissing him would be like while waiting for my toast to pop…
Excitement exploded in my chest. This would work, the dress would exchange Sebastian’s frown for a smile of appreciation. I took time every day to make myself look put together but the key must be to spice it up.
Sexy it up a bit.
Again, I threw my arms around Malaya, squishing the makeup in her Sephora bag on her lap. “You’re the best friend on this entire planet.”
Smiling, Malaya shoved me away. “Girl, just go and buy that dress.”
With credit card in hand, I giddily entered the store. While the lady rang in the purchase and another folded it neatly on the counter, my usual anxiety or anticipation to get home to Sebastian quadrupled. Maybe not tonight, but one day this week, he’d see me in a whole different light.
I’d be a sight that even a perfect soul like Sebastian couldn’t look away from.
On April 12th, I drove to Granville Island with Sebastian, Sam, Malaya and her boyfriend, James. We were going to watch a comedy performance at the Vancouver Improv Centre. Our tickets said the name of the show was Impro-vivor. Two teams of performers wou
ld compete, using audience suggestions to come up with hilarious improvised scenes.
I’ve been to the Improve Centre twice before. Each time, I’d left with tears in my eyes and a sore stomach from laughing. Using audience members’ applause and laughter, the referee of the night’s show would indicate which performers would be voted out for the next segment.
Like the weather man predicted, the sunny forecast transformed into snow earlier in the day. Our tickets weren’t until ten pm but I wasn’t complaining that we’d left Port Coquitlam early. I trusted James’ driving but doubted any British Columbian really knew how to drive in snow.
After we all piled out of James’ SUV, everyone but me and Sam went to find our seats inside the theatre. Drinks weren’t allowed in the theatre but I desperately needed some hot chocolate to warm me up. Since the farmer’s market that sold the best hot chocolate wasn’t opened yet in April, I had to settle for Starbucks. I wished it was Sebastian walking with me and not Sam. But he’d gone inside with the others.
On the walk back to the theatre, Sam shoved his hands in his pocket and asked, “How’s Nate doing these days?”
“Still angry,” I said and slurped escaped bubbles of chocolaty liquid on my takeout lid. “Why?”
“Just wondering.”
Glad he wasn’t painfully fixating on the weather and the Canucks, like he had on the walk to the coffee shop, I pressed him for more information. “Should he not be fine?” I asked.
Sam’s face looked darker than usual when we stopped in a shadowed area. A flickering street lamp illuminated one side of Sam’s tanned face, giving him an uncanny resemblance to the Phantom of the Opera.
“I was in Abbotsford the other day visiting my Grandma and drove by the high school,” Sam looked up at the dark sky, blinking when a snowflake hit him in the eye. He looked down at me. I waited for him to follow up with a “but,” and took a sip of my drink.
“He was smoking in the parking lot with Marcus Miller and his older brother, Jade.”
“Nate smokes?” I asked, shocked. I stared at Sam then set my drink on the snow packed sidewalk and put my hands on the top of my striped toque in frustration. “How can he be so stupid? Does he forget that Grandma died of lung cancer? Doesn’t he know the tobacco industry is purposely targeting his age group so they’ll snag his money for years to come? I mean, smoking is the dumbest hobby ever. You’re literally paying for something to kill you-”“Celeste, I agree, smoking is messed up but that’s not what worries me about Nate,” Sam said.
I let my hands drop to my sides. “It’s not?”
“No, it’s who he was with that scares me,” he explained.
Who was that again, Marcus somebody?
Seeing my confusion, Sam’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You seriously don’t know the Miller brothers?”
“Should I?”
“Maybe not them but their dad’s pretty well-known.”
After checking my watch, I picked up my drink and we resumed walking. “Who’s their father?”
“Clint Miller.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar. I could even picture a fuzzy face. But the significance of both was lost on me. “What does their dad do?”
Sam pulled me to a stop. “He was the leader of the Ku Klux Klan in Vancouver. At least up until a few years ago. He disappeared after the authorities connected him to an Arab family’s murder.”
“But his kids still live here?” My eyes widened. “And they go to Nate’s school?”
Sam let go of me and ran a hand through his black hair. After a sigh, he met my eyes and nodded. “They may not live with their dad but they’ve inherited his hate of multiculturalism. I’m betting Nate’s racist remarks to his principal have something to do with those two.”
I appreciated Sam telling me, loved the fact that the awkward wall between us had been bulldozed over for a moment, but I absolutely detested the conversation it had taken to do it.
Both of us were lost in thought as we neared the theatre. I kept picturing the ghostly white outfits of KKK members, their pointed hats and hidden identities. My brother didn’t belong with that kind of crowd.
Sam held the door open for me and even though I smiled, inside I was inflicting myself with pain. What if I’d driven Nate into the arms of kids associated with the KKK, because of what I did to Dad? Way to go, Celeste, I internally beat myself up, cringing. Falling asleep at the wheel clearly had more deadly consequences then I’d initially thought.
“What did Sebastian think of the dress?” asked Malaya.
I tossed my used paper towel in the trash and leaned against the theatre ladies’ room countertop. “It’s still in the bag.”
Turning on the tap, Malaya watched me so intently that the pink soap she pumped completely missed her hands, falling to the granite counter.
“I thought it would be obvious I hadn’t dazzled Sebastian yet,” I heaved myself on the counter and watched Malaya tear a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser. “Didn’t you see how he turned red when James asked him what we did on our first date?”
Malaya fluffed her dark hair in the mirror, pulling out a wand of mascara to fix her already immaculate makeup. “Not that I’ve been around Sebastian a lot but I’ve never seen him look so uncomfortable.”
“Me neither,” I said, “and he never blushes.”
Malaya zipped her makeup bag shut and tossed it inside her oversized black purse. With one hand on the counter, the other positioned on her hips, she continued. “The sooner you bring out that secret weapon, the better. You gotta show Sebastian you mean business and don’t want to flirt around anymore.”
“I will, eventually,” I promised.
Unsatisfied, Malaya raised her manicured eyebrow at me. But it wasn’t as simple as she thought. Finding an opportune moment, with the element of surprise on my side, was tough to do when your maybe boyfriend sometimes read your thoughts.
Lucky for me, the few time’s I’d let the dress and its job leak into my mind, Sebastian never commented. I’m sure he would’ve flinched if he’d heard some of my fantasies. As weird as it was, God, who I was starting to consider must exist, because Sebastian said so and I trusted him and because that peace I felt sometimes had to be coming from a supernatural, larger than life source, seemed to be keeping His angel in the dark about my plans to seduce him. Odd, but maybe it was a sign we were meant to be?
I shook off the clouds of doubt as I followed Malaya into the lobby. Just thinking of us not being together, aroused the demons inside me, allowing them to claw at my fears. Life without Sebastian and his calming aura wouldn’t be worth living. How I’d survived that time after the accident, before I met him and before I tried to end my life, was unfathomable.
Malaya and I met up with the rest of the group. I moved so I was standing next to Sebastian in the circle. I wanted to take his hand but that would only lead to thinking about the sexy-mama dress tucked in the back of my closet. I would just have to wait; my moment would eventually come.
And when it did, I’d be the one wishing I could read minds.
Angels, white and so gloriously bright
Shine from ancient pages, glow from far-fetched tales
Some of which, consist of rolling stones and nails.
But how is one to know, without making a personal sight
Of the celestial, the winged, the watchers throughout the night?
Do you believe? Have you seen? Are questions that sail
Upon the ocean of my conscience, resulting in deep wail.
Oh, do they exist or is it simply a colourless lie of white?
My head it claims ‘‘tisn’t so but the heart within my chest
Strides down the other road, stubbornly refusing to quake,
Its convictions and proceeds to ventures on west.
&
nbsp; Common sense points northern, vowing another direction is a mistake
So I sigh and shake my head, a “No” is where my answer does rest
“Then,” my heart pleads, “who kept your foot planted on the brake?”
That’s the sonnet I wrote for the poetry contest my English prof told me about in December. When I fumbled to think of a fib while I was reading Angels: God`s Secret Agents, I had no intention of actually writing the sonnet I claimed to Sam I was researching for. But I did, and the words may not win but they were valuable to me all the same. I recited them over and over in my mind at night when my fears of Kalan’s threats, guilt over my dad, and fear of Sebastian leaving crept into my mind. It was not as good as having a guardian angel’s calming presence but it was better than being left alone with my imagination all night. I had not shown it to Sebastian but thought maybe someday I would. He did inspire it…
The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.
I dropped the lid back on the pot of minute brown rice and made a dash to the cordless phone lying on my bed in my room.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Wear the dress tonight.”
“Malaya?” I moved back to the kitchen, pulling a white cupboard door open to root around for a bag of California raisins.
“Yes, it’s me and you’re welcome in advance.”
I set the bottle of vanilla extract on the counter and then stood on tippy toes to reach the cinnamon on the top shelf.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but thanks in advance.” Running my finger down the rice pudding recipe, I realized dumbly I’d cooked fresh rice. Hopefully it would still turn out. A cold bowl of rice pudding was a nice change from oatmeal in the mornings.
“Celeste! You’re not listening,” she said. “You should be screaming your head off in anticipation.”
I filled a glass measuring cup with skim milk and nodded even though no one was around to see it. “Sorry, I’m listening now.”
Malaya sighed. “Really, Celeste, this could be a life-changing event.