by T. J. Klune
shakes, worried (of all things to worry about) that she’ll scald herself if she keeps shuddering. “Things like this don’t happen. Not here. Not anywhere.” “They do,” Cal reassures her from his place near the kitchen doorway. His wings had faded again even before we left the cemetery. “People just don’t know how to look close enough. Amazing things happen all the time. Little threads connect you all. It’s really quite beautiful.”
I groan inwardly as my mother’s eyes bulge. It’s probably not the best time for one of his esoteric meanderings, and I tell him so. His eyes are warm as he smiles at me. I don’t know how much of that is for me and how much of it’s because I let him drive the Ford back as I drove my mother home, unsure if she was going into shock. I was relieved when we pulled past Big House that Nina wasn’t waiting on the porch, nor did the lights seem to be on inside. I didn’t think I was ready for Christie and Mary to be in on this. Not yet.
“How long have you known?” my mother suddenly asks.
“About Cal?”
“Yes.”
I glance at him. He’s watching me with such awe that my heart skips a few beats.
I don’t know where we stand and I’m trying my best to keep from flushing, but I don’t know how long I can last. It’s only now that I truly realize I didn’t think he’d come back. “Since I found him,” I admit.
“And where was this?” She sounds like she’s on the verge of hysterics. I think about lying, but that would just make things worse. “Mile marker seventy-seven.”
Her face goes white, and she grips the cup so tightly I’m afraid it will shatter. “Benji,” she whispers. “The meteor? That light?”
I nod.
“You know this isn’t….”
“Isn’t what?”
She looks unsure as she glances between the two of us. “You said he was an angel. You said he was the guardian angel of Roseland. Of us. Of you.”
I nod again, waiting.
“Things like this don’t happen, Benji. Not here. Not in the real world.” She almost looks like she doesn’t believe her own words.
“You saw the same thing I did,” I tell her quietly. “You saw his wings. You saw the Strange Men. You saw it with your own eyes.”
“I know what I saw!” she snaps at me, slamming down the mug on the counter. “I’m looking for a goddamn explanation! Why here? Why now? Who were those men? Where did they go? What does he want with us! With you!” By the time she finishes, she’s shouting.
I flinch, not knowing how to handle the anger in her eyes. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to make her calm down, to make her see what I see. Her anger is only giving fire to my own, and I can’t lose it here. Not now. Not yet. Fighting will solve nothing—there’s too much more to learn.
But before a word can fall from my lips, Cal takes three big, quick strides over to my mother. She gasps and tries to shrink away, but he’s too fast for her. I am alarmed (please don’t send my mother into the black! my mind shrieks) and I’m about to step forward when he reaches his hands up and frames her face. She struggles to move away, but he’s holding her tight. Her movements weaken until she stares up at him, tears streaming down her face. She gasps into his touch.
“Lola Green,” he says, his voice rough but kind. “I have watched you for many, many years. A little girl who liked to cause mischief with her sisters. A young woman who cared more for her family than almost anyone I’ve seen. A woman who grew and loved with such ferocity that it was like watching a whirlwind. I watched your heart shatter, though it was done in secret because you wanted to protect your son. I watched you attempt to fix yourself, away from anyone who could see inside because you believed that it was the only way your son would survive. You don’t know if you’ve done right by Benji because he’s not the same person he was when his father was here. You don’t know what else to do. You don’t know if you are strong enough. I assure you that you are.”
She begins to weep openly, raising her hands to grip his arms. There’s a faint buzzing in my ears, like everything around me is vibrating, humming with an electrical current. I see tiny blue flashes, but they are too small to be important.
“You are strong,” Cal says, brushing his thumbs under her eyes. “Stronger than you could ever know. And you are not alone, not like you think. Benji is with you. Your sisters are with you. I am with you. And God, my Father? He is always with you.” As he says this last, I hear the first waver in his voice. His breath catches on his words like he is having trouble speaking.
Like he doesn’t believe himself.
But my mother notices none of this.
“Who are you?” she asks quietly through her tears.
“I am Calliel,” he tells her with a small smile. “I am the guardian angel to Roseland and its people. And I am with you.”
“This… isn’t…,” she tries again, fighting against what she sees in front of her.
He shakes his head. “It is, Lola Green. It is what it is. I promise you.”
And then her eyes shift, and something else rises behind her sorrow, her disbelief. “Guardian?” she asks, her voice low. My heart sinks—I know where she’s going with this.
“Mom—” I say, starting forward.
“Where were you when my husband died?” she grinds out. “Where were you when Big Eddie sat trapped upside down in his truck? Where were you when the water filled his lungs? You say you are an angel. Where were you then?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers, dropping his hands and taking a step back. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I wish….”
“It’s not his fault,” I say, though I don’t know how much I believe that. “He can’t remember much since I called him here. Certain pieces have been taken from him.”
“Get them back!” she growls. “You get them back and you tell me why you let him die!”
He looks confused, almost scared. “I didn’t… I didn’t know how to….”
“That’s enough,” I tell her. “This isn’t going to solve anything. Mom, you have to believe me when I say I’ve asked the same questions. I’ve wanted the same answers, but it can’t be forced. It just can’t.”
She turns on me. “How could you keep this from me? How could you even think that was okay? Benji, you could have been killed tonight!”
“I didn’t say anything because of this right here,” I retort. “I didn’t say anything because I was scared you’d have this reaction. Mom, he’s….” He’s what? What is he to me? I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I don’t know if I want to. My head is starting to hurt and I’m exhausted. I’m losing the ability to process any of this.
But he’s here, I tell myself. If I’m being honest, that’s the only thing I care about. He’s here. I’m angry, yes, and I’m freaking the fuck out, but he’s here. He came back. He came back.
“I care about him,” I finally say, knowing it sounds weak. “He’s my friend. I don’t… he’s my friend, okay? And he saved me tonight. I just….”
Mom doesn’t look convinced, though I don’t know why I think she should be. But she also looks worn, and heartbroken, much older than when I saw her earlier today. And maybe the real reason why I haven’t said anything to her yet is not because of this reaction, or because of what our future might hold. Maybe the real reason is because I don’t want old wounds to be ripped open for her, like they have been for me. I don’t want her scars to be split wide-open. Yes, he is my friend (let’s not go any further than that right now, I tell myself), but he is also a reminder of what we’ve lost. And it’s worse to know there are questions he can’t answer right now. Whether he’s being truthful about the convenient memory loss or not. Thinking of him as a liar feels wrong.
“Mom, just… just give us time,” I beg.
“Time?” she says incredulously. “Time? Time for what?”
“To figure out what’s going on here. There’s so much we don’t know, so much that I’m still trying to figure out.”
She shakes her head. “Benji, you have to see how ridiculous this is, right? Do you hear yourself? Do you hear him?”
“Time,” I repeat. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
“I won’t hurt him,” Cal says seriously. “I can’t hurt him.”
“What do you think you did when you left?” she says as she scowls at him. “You disappeared for days like it was nothing. I don’t know why or what happened, but don’t you dare say you won’t hurt him when you already have. This is my son, so don’t you dare.”
His face falls as he takes a step back. “Didn’t mean to,” he says quietly. “I thought leaving for a bit would be easier on him. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I would never do that. I….” He shakes his head but won’t look at me.
“Mom, that’s enough for tonight. I’m exhausted, and I need to speak to Cal. Alone.”
“Benji, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea! You saw what he did to those men!”
Into the black.
“They weren’t men,” Cal mutters. “They were husks. Shells. They have no souls. Minions that do nothing more than Michael’s bidding. They are abominations, and I do not know why Father permits them.”
She stares at him, unable to speak.
“Mom, you can’t tell anyone about him.” I grab her arm to get her attention. She looks like she’s going to protest, but I cut her off. “You can’t. If this gets out to the wrong person, it’s not going to end well. We have to protect him until we figure out what’s going on.”
“Griggs,” she says suddenly, as if she’s just remembered. “Griggs has been asking questions about him. About Cal. No one is saying anything to him, but he’s asking.”
“All the more reason to keep this quiet. Mom, you know as well as I do that Griggs won’t let this go. We can’t give him any more reason to look at us. We can’t. I already think he—” I cut myself off before I finish.
“You think he what?” she asks me.
I already think he murdered Big Eddie. I think he was the one who ran him off the road. I think he’s hiding something out in the woods, and I think Dad knew about it. I think Griggs knew he knew. I think he ran him off the road and stood there in the rain and watched him drown.
I think he killed Big Eddie and I am going to kill him myself.
“I think he’d make this worse than it already is,” I say, averting my eyes. “We can’t take the chance of him finding out anything. Not until we know more.”
“Benji—” she starts again.
“Mom, just do me this favor, okay? Please don’t say a word. Not to the Trio, not to anyone. I need time to figure this out. I’m asking you for time.”
“How long do you think something like this can stay quiet?” she asks. “Everyone in town knows him. You let him walk around and show his face and get to know people like he was one of us. How long do you think it’s going to take before people start asking questions? If they haven’t already? How long, Benji?”
“As long as I can,” I tell her sharply. “I never ask you for anything. You know that. Not ever. But I’m asking you for this one thing. No. I’m not asking you. I’m begging you. Please.”
She looks dazed. “I have so many questions,” she says, but it’s more to herself than to me. “So many….” She looks back up at Cal as her eyes harden. He still looks miserable as she steps up to him and pokes him in the chest with her finger. “I don’t know who you are, or what you are,” she says as she trembles. “I don’t know why you’re here. But I do know this: if any harm comes to my son, there will be no place in Heaven or on Earth where you could hide that I wouldn’t find you. If you hurt him, I will break you. Do you understand me?”
He looks like he’s about to speak but thinks better of it, nodding instead.
My mother reaches up and cups his face much like he did to her earlier. She pulls him down and whispers harshly in his ear. I can’t make out her words, but his eyes go wide as he looks over to me. She pulls back to look him in the eye. “Do you promise me?”
There’s no hesitation. “I promise,” he says, and chills roll down my spine.
She watches him for a moment before she pulls his head down and kisses his forehead softly, and it makes my heart ache because I don’t know if he’s ever felt something like that from his Father. She sniffs as she lets him go. Cal looks bemused as she turns away from him. “I’ll send one of the Trio to the store tomorrow,” she tells me, “or I’ll go in. I don’t want you in town until I’ve had some time to think.”
“Mom, I don’t—”
“I brought you into this world,” she snaps at me. “It’s my job to make sure nothing takes you out of it. You’re right when you said you’ve never asked me for anything before. But the first time you do ask me for something it’s to keep a secret about an angel that fell from the sky. So, yes, you will do this one thing for me. Are we clear?”
I sigh. “Crystal.”
She grabs me in a rough hug, to my surprise. She smells of lilacs, a scent she’s had for as long as I can remember. “Do you care for him?” she whispers in my ear, and I can feel her tears against my neck.
I can feel his eyes on me when I answer. “Impossibly,” I tell her. “Improbably.”
She gasps and shudders against me because she knows those words. Then she’s gone, the front door to Little House opening and then closing.
When a person goes through something incredible (say, like a graveyard attack
by Strange Men only to be saved by a man with wings), it’s as if the body’s immediate reaction after the adrenaline fades should be to shut down, to sleep, to recharge. I feel my body doing just that, my knees buckling, my mouth going slack, even as I stand there in the kitchen. Cal takes a step toward me, his eyes hooded. I shake my head at him and turn and walk out of the kitchen and down the hall to my room, where I shut the door behind me. There’s guilt when I see him, and it hurts. I lie on my back on the bed and try to think of ways to fix this.
There’s a shuffle of feet down the hall. I hold my breath. Shadows cross under the door and pause. I watch to see if the doorknob turns in the dark, if the door will open and he’ll stand before me, staring at me with those dark eyes and that red hair. He’ll open his mouth and beg me, plead for me to let him in, and I will say—
The shadows shift, turning away. I think he’s about to leave and I rise from the bed to chase after him, but then I hear a low grunt and a weight pressed against the door. The shadows underneath move again. I realize he has slumped against the door and is sitting outside.
Waiting. Guarding. My thoughts are selfish, even if I don’t want them to be. What about me? What about us? Why did you leave? What did I do?
You. Me. I. Us.
The shadows move, then settle.
No, I tell myself. I can’t be thinking of him like that. Not anymore. I’ve barely started and already he has control over me. Already he has control over my heart. I don’t know how to reconcile the nine days I did have him versus the five days I didn’t. I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t do this. I can’t.
Why not? a voice whispers back.
My feet are on the floor. I’m standing. I’m walking toward the door.
The floor flickers beneath me, and for a moment, it’s a raging river. Then it’s gone.
Wake up.
The river splashes water up to my chest.
It’s time to wake up.
I get caught in the current.
It’s time to wake up and be true, son. It’s time to open your eyes and see, maybe for the first time. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, how much longer I can hold on. But I promise not to let go until I am sure you are safe. Wake up, Benji. Wake up and be true.
I reach the door and gasp for breath, pressing my palms against the wood.
Something shifts outside the door. “Benji?” a worried voice says.
“No,” I manage to say. “Just… wait.”
“But….”
“Cal… wait.�
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He sighs but I can feel him settle against the door again, his weight pushing it against my hands. I take another breath, letting my head rest upon the wood. For a moment, it’s like I can feel him there, just on the other side. There’s a heat against my skin, a bright burst. It’s so warm I almost have to pull away for fear of burning, but it subsides, only giving residual pulses. It’s his fear, I think, fighting against the lump in my throat. It’s his anger, his sorrow. It’s whatever causes him to find the black, the tide he rises against. It’s there because of me.
I turn and slump against the door, sliding until my ass reaches the floor. He’s mere inches away but there’s a wall between us, one that is more substantial than the door. I need to tear it down. I need to break through, but I don’t know how.
You know, my father whispers. Oh, Benji. You know. You built it, so you can destroy it.
“Benji,” Cal says through the door.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. You know, for….”
I bow my forehead into my hands. “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d see you again. Thought you’d left.”
His reply is muffled and quiet. “That’s not what I wanted you to think. I’m sor—”
“No. It’s not your fault. It should be me apologizing to you. Again.”
He’s confused. “But you didn’t do—”
“Yes, I did. I did everything. I pushed, Cal. I pushed and pushed because I thought that knowing what I needed to know mattered more than you not being able to remember. I shouldn’t have done that. There’s no excuse.”
Quiet, for a time. Then, “You had your reasons. I don’t blame you. I can’t.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“You justify my being an asshole. You do it all the time.”
He chuckles and there’s a bump against the door, like he is laying his head against it. “It’s because I see the good in you. It’s bright, you know. Like the sunrise. Like the sun rising on my face. I watched the sunrise every morning while I was gone. It reminded me of you.”
“Where’d you go?” I choke out.
He sighs again. “The woods. I wandered for a bit. I watched for the threads, but I couldn’t see any. Not the whole time I was gone. I was worried about it, wondering if they were hidden from me. But I don’t think they were.”