Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  “I must take your wings. You will no longer be one of us.”

  Gabriel places his golden hand on the shoulder of my dirty linen suit. I will no longer be one of the chosen warriors, protectors, and light givers. But my choice doesn’t mean I have to stop protecting that which is good. I can still do that without being golden. I will do that.

  “I understand.”

  I bring my head up and look from one tall, thick, square, stone pillar to the next all the way around the circular room. In between each pillar is a thinner stone wall with arched glassless windows, golden light shining in as if the sun is about to set.

  My linen suit jacket falls to the stone floor as I unfurl my white feathered wings and I peer back over my shoulder for one last glance. I close my eyes. I visualize Grant and Leo sailing through the sky over the city, swooping in between buildings, waving up and down as if they were on a trackless roller coaster. That I will miss. Sitting on the peaked roof of the church, overlooking downtown, and sneaking up on Providence in my golden glow, I will miss.

  Finally being able to feel her soft, warm skin when I touch her, falling asleep with her every night and waking up next to her every morning, I will cherish.

  Gabriel moves to my side, and with a black, metal, pencil-like rod, he takes my right hand and begins carving into the soft pad of skin between my thumb and index finger. My golden glow slowly begins to fade. A thousand pin pricks sting my hands. Gabriel still holds my right hand, so I draw my left under my eyes. The hundred interlocking rings I carved into the skin in a band around my finger when I was in the desert are burning a deep red, glowing, and sizzling. In a slow, clockwise motion the deep-red burning fizzles out, leaving a charred, black-ringed band around my finger like a tattooed wedding band.

  Gabriel drops my right hand. Pin pricks sting, radiating across my palm and the back of my hand. I lift the hand and find a similar deep-red glowing and sizzling, except the symbol is not a ring. And as the deep red fizzles, moving like a slithering snake until it’s charred black, I clearly see the symbol he tattooed.

  The symbol is of an open infinity. It resembles a figure eight, except the upper circle of the eight does not connect; it remains open. The symbol marks my decision to end my eternal life and become mortal, a constant reminder of the choice I made, right there, for all to see, plain as day, tattooed on my right hand in the soft pad between my thumb and index finger.

  I take a deep breath, and even though tears still don’t form in my eyes, I feel like crying.

  “I’m ready to go home.”

  Gabriel moves around in front of me and bends down, placing his golden hands on my faint golden shoulders. His teal-green eyes peer into mine intensely.

  “You are never beyond redemption,” he says.

  I let out my breath slow and steadily, and I wish for tears to well up in my eyes. Five words. Five extraordinary words. Words I wished to hear but never thought imaginable, given the sin I’ve committed.

  You are never beyond redemption.

  You are never beyond redemption.

  Gabriel moves behind me once again and tightly grips my shoulder. His hands run along my wings and the creases between my wings and my shoulder blades. He lets out a sigh. At least I think that’s what I heard. I lower my head and my body tenses fully as I brace myself.

  A cloud of black smoke rises up and swirls around me. I peer back and see glimpses of my white wings ignite into bluish white flames, the hottest of flames, which creep closer and closer to the skin on my back. The blaze scorches. I gasp for air as the pain sets in. The stench of burning flesh and feathers fills my nostrils. Black ash whirls around the circular room, hindering my sight. A few white feathers color the darkness and float in the ashy air. The stone walls circling me are no longer visible. And I don’t have to see to know that Gabriel has left.

  Although my wings are gone, the weight on my back is a hundred times heavier. The blue-white flames melt the skin where my wings met my back. It sizzles and bubbles. The golden glow of my skin vanishes as I become more and more human. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing escapes my lips.

  The pain is excruciating. My back feels as though it’s on fire, and it may be. A thousand pin pricks still sting my finger and hand. My eyes glaze over, dizziness washes over me, and I collapse to the stone, landing hard on my side. My shoulder cracks as it meets the stone floor. The black ash settles around me. The circular room spins like a Ferris wheel, the square stone pillars revolving faster and faster until I can no longer open my eyelids. I inhale one last gasping breath, clean cotton and pine mixed with smoke.

  Darkness swallows me, tugging heavy on my limp body.

  God I’m sorry. Father will you ever forgive me.

  A tunnel of blackness pulls me. My body feels as if it were spiraling out of control. I pry my eyes open as far as I am able. A patch of green comes into view—grass, I think. And I remember Luke saying I will land in the same location as I did that cold day in January. I force my feet below me as my vision of the green grass becomes clearer and clearer. I inhale a deep breath and it feels like nails driving into my chest as my new lungs accept their first breath of oxygen. I throw my hand over my chest and bite my tongue to keep from screaming. As the ground rapidly approaches, I hold my breath and bend my knees for the impact, but my new bones and muscle aren’t strong enough yet, and I crash to the ground, tumbling onto my side. My shoulder cracks on impact, sending sharp pain shooting throughout my arm and into my back. The side of my head pounds into the hard grassy ground, and I’m very aware that it hasn’t rained for awhile. A warm liquid rolls down my temple and into my brow. I attempt to roll onto my back to take the pressure off my shoulder, and I wince in pain, letting out a groan with every inch I roll. I flop onto my back and yelp as the burns on my bare back hit the grass, every blade feeling like a needle puncturing my tender, blistered skin. I barely open my eyes to blink away the warm blood that runs down my face. It’s still dark, a little before sunrise, and I pray for Leo and Grant to arrive early. I move to roll onto my other side, but the pain it too great, and I hear a rib crack. I end up sucking in more sharp, stabbing breaths and exhale with a low groan, the loudest noise I can possibly make, given my shallow breaths. My eyes burn, forcing my eyelids shut while streams of warm tears roll down my cheeks. My entire body feels beaten and bruised, and the pain is so unbearable, my head spins. I dry heave, and everything goes black.

  The Mortal

  Something gentle and warm grazes my arm and turns my head slowly from side to side. A soft cloth runs across my brow and down my cheek. I attempt to open my eyes, but they are glued shut. My mouth is open, but I am unable to speak or even groan. Every breath I take feels like shards of glass slicing down my dry throat, penetrating my lungs.

  “Zan. Hey, man, we’re here. It’s me, Leo.”

  “Dude, I don’t think he’s conscious.” Leo’s voice fades.

  “We’ve got to get him outta here.” I hear Grant’s voice.

  Warm hands lift my back slightly off the hard ground. I squeeze my eyes tight and I hear a grunt escape my lips.

  “I know, man.”

  A hand lightly taps my shoulder, placing me back down. “You’re pretty banged up. Grant just went to get Luke. You’ll be out of here in no time.”

  I moan again and try to raise my hand, but my fingers only tremble.

  “Don’t try to move. Let Hope take a look at you first.”

  My mouth feels as if someone dumped a pound of sand in it. I swallow and wonder if sand or glass in is in my mouth because I think my esophagus is shredded.

  “Pr…ov…”

  “We’ll get her, Zan. First things first there, stud. You’re not exactly in any condition for some grand reunion anyway. We’ve got to get you to Luke’s first so Hope can take care of you. Plus, Providence is going to be freakin’ pissed at you anyway for takin’ a damn month to get back.”

  “Le…“ I grunt.

  “Just kiddin’, man. Well, not kidd
ing about the fact that you are in no condition for a grand reunion, or that it has been a month. It’s the middle of June. Your wedding is in a month. Taylor and Lily already dragged us to get fitted for tuxes. You better get those human legs workin’ ‘cause I ain’t walkin’ you down the aisle.” Leo laughs. “That was not in the best-man job description.”

  I open my eyes, and Leo’s round, milk-chocolate face and teal-green eyes stare down at me.

  “I had a feelin’ that would rouse ya,” Leo shouts.

  “Luke’s on his way. Let’s move him.” Grant’s voice sounds distant.

  “You ready, Zan? This isn’t gonna feel great, but we’ll try to be gentle.”

  I close my eyes and nod once. Grant lifts me up by my shoulders, and I wince as the right, cracked one shifts. “Sorry, Zan,” he says.

  Leo cradles my legs in his arms. They ache, but nowhere close to the pain I feel in my chest, ribs, shoulder, back, and head. My body shifts with every step they take. The backs of my eyes burn and tears stream down my face.

  “Slow down, Leo. We’re hurting him.”

  “Can you slide him into the back seat?” I hear a familiar voice ask. “Here, I’ll pull him from the other side.”

  “Just be careful, Luke. There’s something wrong with his right shoulder.”

  “We got you, Zan. Hope is going to fix you right up.”

  On the ride to Luke’s, I concentrate on the hum of the engine and try to forget about all of my aches and pains. I weathered the storm and the desert; I have the strength to endure this.

  * * * *

  I scream. A layer of skins rips from my back and icy daggers claw into it. I bite down on my lip. The pain has me gasping for air.

  “I know it hurts, Zan. I’m sorry. I’m almost finished. Hang in there, hun,” Hope says sweetly.

  I yelp and the agony causes water to rush from my eyes. I must have blacked out on the ride to Luke’s because I now lie face down on a firm mattress with no pillow. And whatever Hope is doing to my back is so excruciating, my head spins, I dry heave, and everything goes black again.

  * * * *

  Warmth covers my left hand and a tingle circles in my palm. I lie flat on my stomach and take in a shallow breath, finally, a breath that doesn’t feel like shards of glass slicing my esophagus, so I take in another, deeper one.

  “I missed you,” Providence whispers in my ear.

  She loops her warm soft fingers in between mine and brushes my hair away from my eyes with her free hand.

  I groan in an attempt to speak.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I hurting you?” She pulls her hands away.

  I groan again and open my heavy eyelids, but my vision is blurry. I blink away the sleep clearing my sight. From this angle, I can make out her hips and tiny waist in a pink cotton dress. She looks thinner than I remember. The back of my hand lies on the bed, and I clench my fist trying to hold her hand again.

  “I’ll get Hope.”

  “No,” I choke out in a gurgley voice. I clench my fist again.

  “You want to hold my hand?”

  I clear my throat. “Yes.”

  She rubs the tips of her fingers over my hand and covers my hand with both of hers, kissing my knuckles with her soft moist lips. They’re warm too. She draws circles around my ring finger.

  “I know this isn’t the best time for questions, but when did you get this tattoo?”

  “The desert.”

  The desert? He must be delirious.

  “I probably was when I did it,” I mumble, recalling the vague memory.

  “Probably were what? Wait…you did that?”

  “Delirious. And yeah, I carved it.” My voice softens to a whisper.

  She gasps. “Zan! I didn’t say that aloud.” She crouches down so we are eye level.

  My lip curls up. “Guess I’ve still got you.”

  “You will always have me.” She smiles, and for a moment the searing pain in my back disappears. “Well, I hope you don’t share matching tattoo wedding bands with some random person you married in the desert. When were you in the desert anyway?”

  “Long story. Providence. I carved the circles into my hand after I dreamed of you.” I raise and lower my head.

  “Don’t try to move.”

  “I didn’t know when I was coming back, if I was ever coming back, but I knew I would always love you.”

  She rubs the pad of her thumb over my tattoo. “I love it. And I love you.”

  She brings her forehead to mine, resting her head on the bed, and we close our eyes, both taking deep breaths, breathing each other in. The familiar strawberry aroma from her hair swirls around me, intoxicating. Opening my eyes, I stare at the beige, glittery eye shadow coating her eyelids.

  Tears fall from the corners of her eyes. “You still smell like pine.”

  “Little One, don’t cry.”

  Her hazel eyes peer into mine. “And you still have teal-green eyes.”

  Providence crawls up onto the only thin sliver of mattress that I’m not covering, being careful not to shake it too much. She lies on her side holding my hand and smiling. Her body rests so close to mine I can feel warmth radiate from her. A warmth I’ve longed to feel.

  “My God, I missed you,” I say, closing my eyes, and a warm tear trickles down the side of my face into my hair.

  A stabbing pain shoots through my bare back and across my shoulder. I wince again.

  “Try to get some rest, Zan. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  * * * *

  A growl in my stomach wakes me. I have never felt hunger before, but I’m fairly certain this is it. I open my eyes. Providence is curled up in a little, wooden rocking chair, wrapped in a cream-colored blanket, sleeping. I raise my head, my neck aches from lying like this for so long. I roll off my stomach and onto my side, biting my tongue to keep from screaming as the burned skin on my back stretches and my cracked rib shifts. The room reeks of antiseptic and mint.

  Even with the white, wooden blinds closed, I can tell its dark outside, and the rest of the house is quiet. I slowly swing my feet over the edge of the bed and sit upright. My body hurts as if I’ve been beaten up by some beast.

  Sliding to my feet off the edge of the mattress, I grip the edge of the bed to prevent myself from falling. I walk with a slight limp into the hall bathroom and stand in front of the mirror, scanning my new body, wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts. Overall, I look the same. My light-brown hair still hangs tousled over my forehead and into my teal-green eyes. There are small gashes over my right eyebrow and near my hairline. A thick white bandage is stretched around my ribs. My shoulder still hurts like mad, but I guess Hope couldn’t bandage it while I was lying down. I take a deep breath and wince, feeling my ribs expand. I turn around to look over my shoulder into the mirror. A breath catches in my throat and I rub my eyes before looking back again.

  Two long, thick, rounded, black scars form an upside down V on my back extending from between my shoulder blades midway down my back. The skin surrounding the scars is bright red, bubbling and peeling, and my skin shines from the gooey ointment Hope must have applied not long ago. I glance back into the mirror, and Providence is staring at me with wide eyes and pursed lips.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, looking down as she fiddles with the hem of her tight little gray tank top. “It must hurt pretty badly.”

  “I’ve been better.” I pull her hands away from her shirt and lift her chin. “You are worth it.”

  She smiles, bites her bottom lip, and rises up on her toes, placing her palms gently on my cheeks. She brushes her soft moist lips across mine and nibbles on my bottom lip. I chuckle. Now I understand why she does that. Sometimes you just can’t kiss hard enough.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  I bend down and kiss her again. With these lips I experience a whole other world, actually feeling her warm soft skin against mine, not just through the emotional connection. I thought I loved kissing her before. This
is unbelievably better.

  Providence tilts her head back. “You’re smiling.”

  I step forward and wrap my arms around her tiny waist, which I can now confirm is smaller than when I left, and my heart sinks, knowing it was because of the stress I caused her. Bending down, I kiss the tip of her nose before heading back to her lips. She rises up on her toes, and I tug her against my body. Her cotton shirt is cool on my bare skin. She lets out a soft moan and wraps her arms around my neck, resting them ever so gently at my hairline. My shoulder aches but not enough to stop. Her tongue grazes mine, and tingles run down my spine. The heat that I used to feel coursing through her veins is now coursing through mine. My stomach growls. Providence giggles, her lips shaking against mine.

  “Let’s get you something to eat.” She starts to tug on my hand.

  I pull her back. “I’ve waited this long. What’s a few more hours.” I wink and pull her back into the room where the flat hospital bed is covered in crisp white sheets.

  Providence helps me lie on my side on the bed and fluffs up a pillow, placing it under my head. She climbs up, lying parallel so our faces rest inches apart. We share a breath. She runs her hand down the side of my cheek and brushes hair away from my eyes. She twines her fingers through my right hand, moving it slightly. A sharp pain radiates from my shoulder, and I squeeze my eyes closed.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot about your shoulder.”

  “It’s okay.”

  She takes my hand again, this time without moving my arm, and rubs her thumb over the pad between my thumb and index finger. She glances down at our hands, and peers back up at me.

  “Did you carve this one too?”

  I crease my forehead, bewildered.

  “This tattoo.” Her thumb grazes my hand again.

  The deep-red, glowing symbol flashes in my mind. “No. Gabriel did that one.”

  “He did? Why?”

  “A friendly reminder I’m mortal now,” I reply with my eyes closed.

  She tilts her head attempting to make sense of it. “Oh, I see. Wow! That’s kind of depressing.” She rolls her face into the flannel pillowcase, one she likely brought from home. “Any other tats I should know about?”