by Lauren Wynn
She nodded, struggling to bring her eyes to his.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked and waved good-bye.
“Bye,” she whispered and sighed.
Zan, bathroom now.
I met her in the women’s restroom where I appeared in front of her.
“Hug please.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m sorry I told him I would still be his coffee girl, but I…”
“Providence, its fine.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Of course not. I know that was extremely hard for you. I hate that I put you in that position in the first place.” I squeezed her tighter.
“Don’t even try to take the blame. I knew how I felt about you. I only agreed to go out with him because I was angry with you.”
I kiss the top of her head and rest my chin. “I’m so sorry.”
“Fine, you can take the blame,” she finally said in a joking tone. “Luv ya.”
I smile. “Good. Love you too.”
“Gotta get back to work.” She kissed me and walked out holding my hand as long she could.
I snap back to my bedroom for a single moment, still gripping the chair with all my might. My thoughts rewind to Tuesday. Providence had to work, which forced us to behave. On Tuesday evening we decided to run a few errands. We desperately wanted to spend time together but needed an outlet that was a little more public, requiring us to contain our emotions.
I experienced my first trip to Target, where I spent an hour watching Providence debate over nail polish and lip gloss until she finally chose the same exact colors she had at home. I spent yet another hour in the shoe department, watching her try on each style of women’s shoes, modeling them up and down the aisle, turning this way and that in the small mirror examining them from every angle. She ultimately chose one pair of Kelly-green flip-flops. According to her, $9.99 was a “heck of a deal,” and I can’t forget this: “They have genuine leather uppers.” We made our way over to the music aisle where she proceeded to play a few songs, sing and dance up and down the aisle, and shake her hips back and forth, utterly enjoying herself.
She jumped up and down. “I found it, I found it,” she shouted. “You.” She pointed to me and rolled her finger “This one’s for you, babe.” She smiled and grabbed my hand and we assumed the typical teenage prom-dance position. We slow danced, shuffling our feet around in a circle. She occasionally spun in and away from my chest.
“Stars abo…ve, how did I…I ever wi…in your lo…ove. What did I do? What did I say, to turn your an…gel ey…es my way.” She sang into my ear and we continued to shuffle in a circle around the aisle.
“Are you ready?” she whispered and raised her eyebrow. “Almost...almost…and dip.” She smiled as I dipped her, a huge Providence, full-toothed smile.
I kissed her, brought her back upright, and we faced the clapping of a few passing customers. Providence, of course, didn’t mind at all. Her face glowed with joy as she curtsied. Seeing the blissful expression on her face and sensing her cheerfulness, I was happy to oblige. We picked up a few other necessities, milk, yogurt, and fruit snacks. I questioned fruit snacks being a necessity, and I quickly learned that the vitamin C placed them in the “need” category. As we walked out to her car, she made me promise to take her to Target for a monthly dance. I agreed without a thought. I would gladly do anything to make her as happy as she was then.
We dropped the milk and yogurt off at her house. I stayed in the car to prevent a…detour.
She returned moments later. “Next stop…car wash.”
We sped down the street in her usual fashion, the radio blaring and windows rolled down, allowing the warmer late March air to swirl around us. We pulled up to a car wash that featured a giant blue frog. She paid the attendant and pulled into position, leaving the car in neutral.
She tapped her foot to the music, and we watched the water rush over the car. She turned to me, narrowed her eyes, bit her lip, and unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Ooh! Your love is a melody, underneath me, running to me. Oh, your love is a song,” she sang and crawled out of her seat and threw her leg over me, straddling me. She placed her hands on my jawbone and pressed her lips firmly against mine. A fire erupted within her. Water gushed over the car and brushes slapped against it, causing a slight quake. She clenched my shirt in her fists and pulled me closer to her, never once leaving my lips. I tightly gripped her hips and her heart pounded. I moved my hands up to her waist and her shirt raised just enough that my fingers grazed her skin, sending a warm shiver down her sides. I slid my hand underneath her shirt drawn to the pounding of her heart and placed my palm flat against her chest, feeling every thump.
The warmth and smoothness of her skin wasn’t what drew me, although I did take pleasure in the tingle and goose bumps that rose over every inch of skin my fingers crossed. It was the pulse of her beating, life-filled heart. With my palm resting directly over it, every beat reached out and grabbed me, sucking me into her.
She trembled. An explosion of heat spread throughout her body from her lips to her toes, and everywhere in between. Her breath was caught in her lungs. She pulled her mouth away for only a moment, inhaling deeply. I clutched my hands around the bare skin of her waist. A low moan broke through her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly, seeing only blackness. She brushed her lips across mine one last time, opened her eyes, and realized the green go light was shining at the end of the car wash. She straightened up reluctantly, took a deep breath, and maneuvered back over into her seat and drove out of the building. She stopped the car and peered over at me. Her hazel eyes sparkled and her eye shadow shimmered. She pressed her lips tightly together. Her scarlet-red face nearly matched her moist red lips. She licked them and bit her bottom lip, slowly inhaled, and exhaled in a slow stream. I leaned my head to hers.
“You’re killin’ me, you know that?” I whispered and looked up to the sky.
She grabbed my hand and placed it on her thigh. “You’re irresistible. You have only yourself to blame.” She smiled and winked.
I blink myself out of the daydream and shake my head trying to loosen the memory. I sit, still on the edge of my seat, feeling no better than when I embarked on that trip down memory lane. In fact, the remembrance of every single amazing detail leaves me only craving more of her. I check my watch, 12:31 a.m. I groan. The next few weeks are going to be tough.
But we have the rest of our lives ahead of us. Surely I can control myself for a few weeks. No carwashes.
The Offer
Instead of moving back to the loft after my call, I go to Providence, having established a firm grasp on my self-control. I watch her lie there, soundly sleeping. I stand over her and trace my fingertip along the slight curve of her almost-heart-shaped face. She slowly opens her glittery eyelids, still wearing last night’s makeup.
“Zan,” she whispers, “I’m sorry.” She scoots over to make room beside her on the twin bed. “I didn’t want to leave it like that, I just, you’re so…”
I place my finger over her lips. “Shh, we’re good.”
“I don’t know what came over me.” She lifts my hand, intertwining our fingers. “I know we can’t…I just got so caught up.”
“You have no idea,” I whisper to myself, having relived the thoughts and feelings all evening. I lie down beside her and she curls up in my arms. “We have the rest of our lives for that. This has to be good enough for now.”
Her lip curls up in a half smile and her eyes scan over my face. “You are always so forgiving. I get trashed. You save me. I yell at you about my own personal frustrations, and you just listen to me.” A glow surfaces on my face. “Now, who’s breathtaking.” She runs her hand down the side of my face stopping on my chin. “Your strong chin.” She brushes the back of her finger on my cheek, “…and the way your cheeks sink in ever so slightly.” She traces my lips. “And how your lips make a perfect little bow.” She runs her fingertip over my nose. “Your perfectly symmetrical nose. And uh
, that hair.” She wrestles it with her fingers. “I love how it messily curls and hangs on your forehead.” She yawns.
“Go back to sleep, Little One.”
“Ah.” She snuggles her body closer, warming against me. “Night, Zan.”
“Night.” I place the whisper of a kiss on her forehead.
Wednesday afternoon arrives, at long last. I change into slacks and a jacket for my meeting with Luke. I arrive at his office a few minutes early, so I take a seat in the lobby on a small, wood-framed chair with a navy-blue fabric seat and backing and wait for his assistant to call me. I glance around at the expensive-looking, wood-paneled walls where a few large brightly colored paintings hang. No defined shapes are apparent, simply thick brush strokes of various colors mixed together, which match perfectly with the oriental area rug that covers the beige marble floor. A glass wall divides Luke’s firm from the other office suites on the floor and the elevator bank. Etched into the glass wall in a sophisticated font reads: Rivers & Abel Attorneys, LLP.
“Alexander, Mr. Abel will see you now.”
I make my way down the short, cream-colored hallway toward Luke’s office, except the last time I was here I casually strolled. This time is more of a formal march. Wearing my suit, standing tall, my paper in hand, I would appear to an outsider to be on my way to declare myself, which, I suppose, I am.
“Good afternoon, Luke.” I hand him the form.
He flips it over. “Looks like you had a little help filling this out.” He chuckles.
“Yes, sir.” I nod, remembering Providence’s bubbly handwriting.
“Addison, very nice…” He shifts his eyes to me and smiles.
“Hmph, she’s the, uh, apple of my eye.”
As he scans the form once again, my eyes wander around his office. Dust particles hang in the yellow stream of sunlight that gleams through the window. The office that was clean last weekend is now scattered with cardboard boxes, stuffed full of papers and files, the floor, the burgundy leather chairs, even the small round conference table, all covered in paper. Each box is marked in black permanent marker with a case number and name. Luke’s desk is piled with various other papers and colored folders, two laptops, a handheld device, and a half-finished, cold mug of coffee.
I bring my eyes back to him when he confirms he has everything he needs to process my paperwork and that I should have my documents in approximately three weeks. Three weeks. The last four days couldn’t go by fast enough, now three weeks sounds too quick.
Even though I look at him intently, my mind dazes, scrolling through the checklist of must-do’s. I vaguely hear him mention something about meeting his wife, Hope, and something about the process, but I don’t snap back to reality until he says, “Providence.” I blink several times and notice that gray shadows lie under his eyes. He grins at me as though he knows I haven’t been paying attention. He quickly scratches a note on a self-stick note and hands it to me.
Invite: Friday, eight o’clock, my house,
1621 Champagne Way
The light fog that has been clouding my mind slowly drifts and I nod in agreement, reassured by the help he’s willing to offer me.
Before I leave, he asks me one final question, “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“I am, yes,” I respond with confidence.
“Welcome, welcome!” Hope cheers as she opens the solid oak front door wide for us.
“Thank you so much for having us over,” Providence replies.
“Luke is in the den. Here, dear, let me take your jacket.”
After Providence hands her jacket to Hope, she grabs my hand and gives a light squeeze. I glance down at her and she winks at me. She is very sweet. We walk into the room where Luke is relaxing in a side chair. Umm, Zan, this isn’t a den, this is a freaking mansion. I squeeze her hand in acknowledgement and watch her eyes examine the room. Her jaw drops at the floor-to-ceiling windows and the entire wall of books.
“Please have a seat,” Luke says. “Providence would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be great.”
“One water coming up,” Hope calls from behind us.
“Your house is amazing.” Providence is still in awe.
“Thank you. We’ve been living here for almost twenty years now.”
“This neighborhood is so cozy. I actually live just down the street. I jog through here several times a week.”
Last time we jogged through this neighborhood I watched Providence drool over a house one street over that was for sale. She called it, a nature lover’s dream. She stumbled over her own feet, gawking at the stone walls and foundation. It was surrounded by fully grown maple trees. Windows spanned the house, and what wasn’t a window was gray stone, framed with dark-gray wood. Two large stone chimney shot up through the center, and there was a small front yard with the wrought-iron gate. There were decks on all three levels in the back, which Providence liked to think had the feel of a tree house.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I told Providence some of your story.”
“Not at all.” Hope sits down in the chair next to Luke.
“I submitted your paperwork on Thursday, Zan. I expect to have it back at the end of April.”
“Great, thank you.” Providence’s heart beat quickens with the news.
“So, Zan, if you recall last weekend, I told you the fall was the hardest part.”
“I remember.” I cringe.
“Well, Hope and I thought it would be helpful to speak with you both about it.”
Providence’s stomach does a somersault. I scoop her hand into mine and rest it on my thigh.
“First of all, I just want to say that you two seem to really cherish each other. You look into the others eyes with such love, and support each other as though you’re one. I’m just so thrilled you found each other and we’re excited to share our lives with you.” Hope reaches over to hold her husband’s hand. I can see why he chose her; she is a very sweet lady.
Providence leans her head on my shoulder and I blow a wisp of hair from her eye.
“Zan, we are here to help with anything you need. William and his family were there for us, and we will do the same for you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“At some point, the archangels will come for you, whether by your request or their own doing. Either way, they will come. When they do, they will take you back home. My experience when they took me was completely different from William’s, so I can’t do much to prepare you for that part of your journey.”
“Did they give you a warning? Did you have time to tell Hope before they took you?”
Hope shakes her head no. “No, but I requested it. When I had everything here squared away, I asked. Gabriel came and took me back. Hope was prepared for it.”
“As prepared as you can be,” she sweetly interrupts and smiles at Providence. “Once Gabriel took him, I waited over two weeks for Luke to come back. I checked everywhere for him.”
Two weeks! Providence’s voice shouts in my mind.
“Where did you find him?” I ask.
“A man found me in the exact location I had arrived at in the late 1800s and drove me to Hope’s. Where did you first arrive?”
“At the park, by Serpentine Wall.”
“We’ll need to keep an eye out there.” Luke glances from Providence to Hope.
“I can ask Grant and Leo to monitor the park as well.”
“That will help since we won’t be able to be there round the clock.”
A thousand thoughts race through Providence’s mind: I need to take vacation. Will they let me take two weeks off? Where can I buy a tent and sleeping bag? Ooh, and I better buy some books and magazines? Wait…is it against the law to sleep in the park? I have to be there when he comes back. I just have to. I squeeze her hand and she looks at me with dizzy eyes.
“We plan to bring you here. I will set up a room for you,” Hope states.
“Here?” Providence asks as
her stomach churns anxiously.
“Zan will need immediate medical attention.” Hope’s response is frank.
Providence sucks in a deep breath. “Shouldn’t he go to the hospital, then?”
“His wings, dear…”
Providence chokes back a breath and covers her mouth. “Oh gosh,” she whispers.
“The burns on your back will be severe.” Hope turns to me.
Providence swallows the lump that builds in her throat and holds back her tears.
Luke and Hope spend the better part of the next hour elaborating on the events that will take place after my fall. Luke describes my general physical condition, including the burns on my back, aches and pains, extreme exhaustion, and nausea caused by hunger. He intentionally glosses over the specifics that will send Providence over the edge. Hope reassures us that she will be able to tend to my burns and administer any necessary drugs that will make me as comfortable as possible. And while I struggle to find a positive word in their description of my first weeks of human life here, I feel better knowing the negative than battling with the unknown. Providence, on the other hand, remains plagued by flashing images of my burning wings.
We all stand up and stretch, shaking off the heaviness of the conversation. Hope invites Providence into the kitchen for a drink of water and some ice cream. She nearly skips out of the great room, thrilled for the comfort of chocolate and a refreshing gulp of water in hopes of swallowing the knot that has balled in her throat over the past hour.
I stare out the back window into the woods and wait for Luke to return from his office. Providence giggles in the kitchen and a smile shines on my face. That precious sound makes the thought of the temporary pain from the fall seem worthwhile.
“Zan,” Luke says, walking back into the room. “I have one other matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Certainly.” I turn to face him.
“I am planning to retire in five years or so, and I would like to leave my firm in good hands, operating under the same basic principles and values that Rivers and I employed. You stated your interest in becoming an attorney. I believe you will make a wonderful asset to the team. If you are interested, I would like to offer you a position at Rivers & Abel.”