by S. L. Naeole
He lifted his eyebrows, the look on his face unmistakable.
“I’m going to go and change in the bathroom,” I muttered.
I left him sitting on my bed, being careful not to open my door too widely. I closed it and crept to the bathroom. After shutting the door and turning on the light, I took a good look at my reflection.
My hair looked immaculate. Not a single hair out of place. I remembered that he had touched my head, and sighed. He had tried to make me look as presentable as possible, knowing that Dad was there waiting for me. He also knew that his presence when Dad discovered my cast was missing would not have helped out in the least.
Darn.
He had left me alone on my doorstep to protect me. “Ugh. Too perfect,” I muttered to myself. “Too damn perfect.”
Deciding that stalling in the bathroom would not exactly be a good idea, I started to change. It was a struggle to get the zipper in the back of the dress down, but I managed to pull it down just enough where the dress would come down with a few tugs.
Once I had won the battle of the zipper, I was able to quickly change. I removed the jewelry and, after brushing my teeth and washing my face, I hurried back to my room. I closed the door softly, and turned around to face Robert.
He smiled at my scowl. You look beautiful angry. And I am sorry.
My jaw dropped. “Don’t try to butter me up, Robert. I’m not in the mood.” I dumped the corset and dress into his lap, and then bent down to pick up the sandals that I had tossed on the ground, and placed those in his lap as well.
I then sat at the foot of the bed, crossed my legs, and faced him. “Okay. No more running away, Robert. Are you going to answer my questions?”
Yes.
“All of them?”
Yes.
Satisfied, I relaxed. “Why did we leave the reception early?”
I felt uncomfortable.
“You felt uncomfortable? Why?”
Because I didn’t want an audience watching me; I don’t like having people see what I can do for others.
I could feel my face wrinkle up in confusion. “But why? You’ve got a gift, Robert! It’s like Ellie said; you’re special even among your own kind.”
My healing ability may be viewed as a gift to you, Grace, but to me, it’s almost like a curse.
I stared at him, my mind uncomprehending what he had just said. It didn’t make sense to me that the ability to heal someone could somehow be a bad thing.
I can’t heal everyone, Grace, and I don’t know who it is that I can and cannot heal until I try.
“But you healed me. You did it three times. Are you saying that there might be a time when you won’t be able to?”
His eyes looked stark. I hope I never have to find out.
“But that might happen.”
He nodded his head, a sudden sadness blanketing his face.
I looked down at my hands in my lap. “And is that why you feel it’s a curse? Because you might not be able to heal someone? Because if it is, it’s a pretty silly reason.”
You cannot begin to understand how immense the feeling of helplessness is, knowing that I have this amazing ability and not being able to use it to save a child, a parent, a friend for no reason other than it was their time.
The way he said friend made me think about Ellie. “You wanted to help keep Ellie alive…”
He nodded. If I could have kept her alive for another century, I would have.
I lifted my head up to look at him. “How did you keep her alive for tonight?”
I didn’t. Someone else did.
“Who?” I asked. If there was someone else who could keep someone alive, even if it was for one more day, surely they’d know how to get around the whole “their time” issue.
I cannot tell you who it was.
“But you said you’d answer all of my questions.” I gasped.
I cannot answer this one. I made a promise that I would not reveal who it was, and I cannot break that promise.
“Stupid angel etiquette…” I muttered.
I heard that.
“Good.”
You have more questions.
I nodded. “What happened to my hand?”
I don’t know.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Why did it look the way it did? And why didn’t it hurt?”
I don’t know. I expected the bruising. You wouldn’t have known what attacking us would do.
“I didn’t attack Lark!” I protested, my hands clenched into fists that betrayed my words.
I know that. You were playing around. That was never in question. But, you did hit Lark, expecting to encounter the soft give of human flesh.
“But that’s exactly what it felt like.”
But it wasn’t, Grace. How can I explain this to you so that you’ll understand. When you touch us, you feel soft skin, warm and smooth, like yours. But it doesn’t give like your skin does. It’s stronger. Much, much stronger. The only thing I can compare it to is spider silk.
My head cocked to the side, because let’s face it, that sounded ridiculous. “My hand won’t end up looking like a big blueberry if I punch a spider web, Robert.”
No, of course it wouldn’t. But spider silk is the strongest natural fiber in the world. It is stronger than steel. But it is pliable, soft. My skin, the skin of every angel is like that. It’s like a very intricately woven fabric made of spider silk. Your punch to Lark, however lighthearted, however soft, would be like you punching a steel beam.
I looked at him, incredulous. “But it didn’t feel like that. That’s what I don’t understand.”
He nodded. I know that. It’s not supposed to feel like you punched a steel beam. Just hurt like it. And yet-
“I didn’t feel anything.”
He nodded again.
“Wow.”
I know. I don’t understand it, either. The way your bruising patterns were formed were quite different as well.
I remembered the way Lark had described it as looking like a honeycomb. I had had many scrapes and bruises as a kid, but never recalled having bruises that looked like that. “Should I have broken my hand?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t use enough force. Had you done so, it would have been taken by everyone at the wedding as a sign of aggression towards us, and that probably wouldn’t have gone over so well.”
Well, that was good, at least.
What’s next?
I brought my knees up and rested my chin on them, thinking about what else it was that I had wanted to know. “Why are you and Sam so close?”
He laughed, but the sound was almost hollow. You don’t like Sam.
“I just don’t feel comfortable around him. I don’t know why. Lark said that he’d have to tell me what it is about him that does that. Is that his ability or something? Or is it because I’m allergic to jerks?”
His body rocked with muted laughter before a half-smile formed on his face. You’re not alone in your feelings, Grace. However, Sam’s a mentor and a friend. He’s more than a friend. He’s my brother in every sense of the word except genetically. He’s always been there, whether to offer advice, or just support when I’ve felt lost and impatient.
“Because you haven’t heard the call yet?”
A slight nod of his head and a sigh answered me.
“So Sam helps you deal with that?” I asked, not really wanting to like Sam for helping Robert understand what he was going through, but at the same time, glad that he had someone who he could turn to. Friendship, between humans or angels, could mean the difference between depression and happiness, and I did not want to ever think of my angel feeling the way that I had when I had no one.
Yes, he helps me deal with it. And thank you, for at least trying to see him in a different light. Even Lark refuses to do that.
Well, score one for the human girl.
Robert laughed silently. You’re already way ahead of the game, Grace.
I smiled, feeling od
dly giddy at such an offbeat compliment. But what else was to be expected of me, right? Hadn’t we just gotten through discussing the consequences of punching an angel? Conversations like this didn’t happen with just anyone.
“When is Ellie supposed to go? Does her family know? ”
Robert shook his head. It will happen before the sun rises, but no, her family does not know. Her daughter will be informed through the normal human methods, and Hannah will find out as soon as Ellie has crossed over.
I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness come over me. “Why can’t Hannah know? She’s supposed to be one of your protectors, right?”
Yes, but Ellie wanted it this way. She wanted Hannah to be able to enjoy her wedding night.
The snort that came out of me was one that was in disbelief. The tone with which Robert had said “wedding night” made it seem as though Hannah was a vir-
She is.
My mouth opened up rather widely, shocked that he’d know such a thing. “And just how do you know something like that?”
She told me.
I couldn’t—could not—simply couldn’t believe that someone would share that kind of information with another person. And with their grandmother’s ex-boyfriend no less!
Robert chuckled. Believe it or not, she did. People tend to view us as priests when they know what we are. It can get annoying--but we understand. Do you know what she calls me? What makes it easier for her to talk to me?
“Robbie?” Why not, since her grandmother did.
She calls me Grandpa Bob.
A smirk formed on my lips and I couldn’t help but begin to test it out. “Grandpa Bob. I think it has a nice ring to it. I might call you that from now on.”
He rolled his eyes at my jest. I think there are other things you could call me that would sound much more palatable.
The things I’d love to call him were far too familiar and intimate for what we were at the moment. Just the idea alone was enough to make the blood flood my cheeks, a testament to my embarrassment. I had labeled our relationship, Lark had told me, and all the things that I would have liked to call him, refer to him as, have him call me in return—they were all impossible until I had made my decision about what it was that I wanted known. And I knew that I had to come to a decision about him, about Graham, about everything soon.
Then, remembering the last thing that had been on my mind before the desperate need to get home took over, I turned my body to face him. “Why did you leave me in the kitchen?”
He looked away towards the window, and I saw his jaw jut out in stubbornness. His white glow turned a stark purple.
“Robert, you said you’d answer all of my questions,” I reminded him—as if he could forget. “I want to know. Please.”
He turned his face to me, his eyes steel once again, cold and flat. Because I brought you to my home, I brought you into my life, and you choose not to talk about a future with me, but instead speak of someone who broke your heart, and how my kitchen would make him happy.
I was stunned. Dumbfounded, actually. “Of all the silly-” I stared mutely at him as the realization of what had just happened slapped me in the face. “Are you jealous, Robert?”
I don’t know what I am. I have never felt this emotion before. I’m not enjoying it. Impossibly, his jaw jutted out even farther, the vein in his neck growing fat from the tension this new emotion was giving him. I cannot help but be angry at you for causing it, Grace.
I got on my knees and crawled on the bed towards him. I watched him flinch as I reached for his hand, but he did not take it away when I clasped it in mine. He did not respond when I squeezed it either. “Robert, I did not mean hurt you or make you jealous by mentioning Graham. I-I thought you’d have realized by now. I mean, you can read my mind, after all…”
He did not look at me, instead focusing on some unseen thing outside of my window. I looked at the reflection of his glow that bounced off of the glass and sighed.
“I guess I hide my thoughts better than I thought,” I mumbled. I took in the distance between the two of us, trying to determine if he’d have enough time to bolt before I could get closer. I crawled quickly, until my face was just a foot away from his. I could see that his eyes were cold and hard, frozen in his anger, but I could also see the hurt and confusion that he felt in them.
“Robert, I’m sorry that you feel so strange, but I’m not sorry that you’re feeling it because of me,” I whispered, my heart feeling a familiar twinge as I continued, “but even if you hadn’t felt it, it would not change the way I feel about you.”
His face was so still, his eyes unmoving. I waited for some kind of reaction, anything. After fifteen hundred years of mastering the art of secrecy, I knew that I wasn’t going get anything out of him but silence. I had hurt him without recognizing it.
The expectations that I had subconsciously placed on him had been too high; I took for granted the fact that while he was an angel, he was also a man, with a heart and a mind, and I had hurt him when I had failed to realize that he had seen my thoughts, seen the images and the dreams that I’d had of a romantic future with Graham. How could he not have known—not have seen that those were images that I now looked back on—not with regret, but with gladness—because the future I pictured wasn’t with Graham, but with him?
Meeting Ellie tonight had put a lot of things into perspective. I simply couldn’t keep how I felt inside for fear of rejection anymore, especially not when there was a chance that I would not have as much time with Robert as I would like. He wouldn’t be able to heal me one day, and he wouldn’t be able to postpone my death if that’s what was my fate; I simply couldn’t face my future if I didn’t let go of my fears. So, with an all too eerie sense of déjà vu, I said the words to him that I had said less than two months ago to someone else, only this time, I wasn’t hesitant, because this time—this time I knew, not in my heart, but in my soul that I had no reason for doubt.
“I love you, Robert. You don’t have to say it back. I don’t need to hear it. Saying it is enough right now. Saying it is the only thing that will make me feel better. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
I placed my hand on his heart, and laid my head on his chest, not knowing what else to say or do. I listened to his breathing, his heart beating the same rhythm it had drummed for so long, and I heard the way my heart seemed to follow it, keeping pace as it sped up when I again thought those three words.
I looked down towards the foot of the bed, and I could see the faint reflection of the two of us in my mirror above the dresser. His glow, muted by his clothes, illuminated just enough of my face to show the glitter of tears that rested against the bridge of my nose, the glint moving ever so slightly with each ragged breath that I took.
I watched as the purple radiance lightened, turning into a deep orange. It reminded me of the crystals and flowers that had decorated the wedding reception, and I couldn’t believe that it had only been a few hours ago that the two of us had been dancing, happy and content.
So involved in my thoughts was I that I didn’t feel his arms wrap around me, or feel his hand stroke my hair. It was only when I heard his sigh, heard the intake of his breath through his chest, did I notice that I was no longer simply laying on him, but I was being embraced, comforted.
I’m sorry, Grace. I-
I lifted my head to gaze at him, “I don’t need apologies, Robert, not for anything. Just…don’t turn away from me. Okay?” His eyes were softer. Not exactly liquid, but not steel, and definitely not icy. It was enough for me. I laid my head back down on his chest and closed my eyes, sighing when he began stroking my hair again.
How disappointed you must be in me.
I shook my head. “I’m not disappointed in you. How could I be? You’re still here; you didn’t leave.”
He placed both hands on my head then, and lifted it to look at him again. I don’t know if I can give you everything you want, Grace. I don’t know if I can be everything to you that you wa
nt me to be. Once I get my wings—once I get the call—I cannot guarantee you that I’ll be able to remain here, be with you. There will come a time when I will have to leave…
I smiled sadly in the darkness. “I’m seventeen, Robert. The only thing I want is to spend as much time with you as possible. The only thing I want you to be is you. I’m not foolish enough to think beyond today. Not anymore. You might have forever, but the only guarantee I have is right now, and that’s all I need. That’s why I don’t want to waste any time worrying about what I didn’t say, or what I want to say. Because I know…I know that you’ll have to leave me someday, and that I only get now.”
“That sounds very mature of you, Grace, and woefully ignorant,” he groaned, speaking for the first time, “but I’m glad you feel that way.” He brought my head to his, and kissed my hair before letting me go, wrapping his arms around me once more.
I snuggled into his embrace, content and relieved. And brave. “Can I ask you another question?”
He nodded, albeit tentatively.
“Why is it that you’ve never felt—that is to say—why now?” I thought the rest of my question, not exactly brave enough to articulate it any further than that.
“Why haven’t I ever been jealous before? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had any real type of competition before. You’re the only person who’s ever been…a challenge. And I told you, Grace, I wanted you to see yourself in my home, and you brought him up instead. You pictured him in my home and not me. He fills your thoughts, and it’s hard to be in your mind when it feels like I’m not even a part of them.” I could feel the tension in his body and the pain that tainted his words, and I hated myself for being the cause.
“Robert, Graham has been a part of my life since we were in diapers. Whatever—wherever my life takes me, I think he’ll always be a part of it. I’ve always known it-” I chewed the inside of my cheek as I processed what I had just said, a thought forming in my mind “-and I think, that is why it hurt so much when he rejected me; I knew he was supposed to be in my life. Maybe not in that way, the way that I thought I wanted at the time, but in some form, and having him simply not existing there at all was like a piece of me was missing.”