Memoirs of a Guardian Angel

by Graham Downs

  ***

  When they got home, Rebecca marched straight to her room. Jane didn't try to stop her, but just shrugged as she stormed past.

  She threw her school bag on the floor and climbed onto the bed. She sat cross-legged, put her hands on her knees, and took a deep breath.

  I wish this whole situation would just go away!

  Her phone rang from inside her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Mark.

  She killed the ringer, let out a sob, and threw the phone on the mattress next to her.

  After a few moments, she got up. I could hear the resoluteness in her mind, but there was so much anger there it was difficult to discern specific thoughts. Slowly, she opened her bedroom door and poked her head out. She heard her mother rattling around in the kitchen.

  She exited the room and crept down the passage. Into her mother's room, and then into the master bathroom.

  I was powerless to do anything, except be pulled along behind her by an invisible tether.

  Once in her mother's bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a razor. With some difficulty, she removed a blade from the plastic casing.

  As I figured out what she was planning, I frantically projected thoughts into her mind: No, Rebecca. No, don't do it!

  But my projections had no effect. I prayed that her mother would see her, but it was no use—the rattling from the kitchen continued as Rebecca crept back down the passage and into her room.

  ***

  She got onto her bed, cross-legged as before. In her right hand, she held the blade, trembling. She rotated her left, exposing the delicate skin of her wrist. I could tell that she was watching, actually seeing the blood pulse through it.

  I continued to project, trying to get her to stop. I kept hoping her mother would come in... or something, anything would make her put down that blade so that she could take a deep breath and just think for a moment.

  She dropped her right hand, and the blade pricked the skin on her wrist. The trembling was getting worse, but I could see that she was resolved. She was going to do it. A tiny bit of blood welled under the blade and trickled down her arm.

  Her phone rang, and she glanced down at the screen.

  Mark.

  Please, Rebecca, I prayed. Please, just answer your phone!

  And then she picked up the phone. Thinking that if she was going to leave this world, she might as well say goodbye, she pressed the Answer button.

  "Hello, daddy."

  She was struggling to maintain her composure, and her father could obviously hear it in her voice.

  "Becca, what's wrong. Where are you?"

  "In my room. With a razor-blade in my hand. Daddy, I just want to say goodbye."

  I'm not sure how her father responded to this because I was focusing all my energy on getting through to Rebecca. Willing her with every fibre of my being to notice me, to stop this silliness and put down the blade.

  A miracle happened: Rebecca went slack-jawed, and her eyes grew wide. She dropped the phone on the bed—I could hear Mark's frantic voice coming through the speaker—and stared straight at me.

  I hadn't felt that way since the night in her bedroom when she was three. It was as if she knew I was there.

  Rebecca, I asked. Can you hear me?

  There was no reaction.

  Her bedroom door burst open, and her mother rushed in. When she saw the blade between Rebecca's fingers, she rushed to the bed and grabbed her daughter in her arms.

  Rebecca dropped the blade and burst into tears.

  "Mom," she sobbed in between her heaving for breath, "I think I need to go to the wedding. I need closure."

  I was amazed. Just how old was this girl?

  Her mom burst into tears, too. "Oh, baby. It's okay. Whatever it takes, we'll get you there. I promise!"

  ***

  I was beaming with pride, and ready to see Rebecca and her family through this next great adventure in her life.

  And then, the strangest, and most frustrating, infuriating thing happened. That pinwheel appeared again before my eyes. Spinning and spinning. Filling my whole vision. I wanted to scream out, "No!" I wanted to scream that Rebecca needed me now, more than ever. I needed to stay. I wanted to stay.

  Pretty soon, the pinwheel took up my whole vision. The sound, too—I'll never forget that sound. A ringing in my ears, that grew louder and louder, until the spinning pinwheel and the ringing were all I could think of, all I could focus on.

  Suddenly the ringing stopped. For a split-second, all was silent. The pinwheel changed direction again and started unravelling itself. My insides once again turned upside down, and slowly the silence was replaced with the overbearing sounds of traffic—engines roaring, tyres screeching, hooters hooting. I felt the wind rushing through me.

  At some point during all this, I must've closed my eyes, because my vision was black. When I opened them, I realised that Rebecca's world was no more.

  Chapter Four

  I had no more time to reflect on Rebecca and what became of her.

  I was lying on my stomach, on a roof of a car. It was a long red sedan, and my hands clutched the sides of it. I stared ahead of me, in time to see the car I was travelling in veer into oncoming traffic, and another car's headlights speeding towards us.

  After checking to make sure there were no cars to the side of us, I leaned hard to the left, causing the car to shift back into its proper lane, and the oncoming vehicle to pass without incident—although its hooter did blare angrily.

  If I still breathed, I would have exhaled a sigh of relief. I stuck my head down into the car (it passed through the roof as if there was nothing there) to see who I was meant to be babysitting this time.

  It turned out to be a woman, about thirty years old, with wavy brown hair. Heavy metal music was blaring through the car's speakers. She clutched a cigarette between her fingers, which she puffed on frantically.

  She was muttering to herself.

  That stupid dick of a husband. I bet you he's high again. Good-for-nothing sonofabitch. I don't know why I stay with him.

  Those thoughts kept running through her mind, over and over again.

  I lifted my head back up through the roof. It occurred to me that lying here, clutching the roof of a car was, no way to travel. I imagined Liz, the angel whom I had seen sitting in her comfortable armchair, and wondered if I could do it. I closed my eyes, and imagined an over-sized wingback chair, white with a floral pattern. When I opened them again, I was sitting comfortably, my arms resting nonchalantly on the arms of the chair.

  Much better.

  I shifted my weight slightly to the left to avoid another head-on collision. This woman clearly wasn't the best driver in the world, I can tell you that.

  As we pulled up to the woman's home, I was daydreaming about Rebecca. I wondered how she and her family were getting on. Would she be able to get to Australia to attend the wedding? What a pity the Powers That Be don't allow us angels to see our wards' lives through to the end.

  ***

  The house was a semi-detached, with a face-brick front wall and a nondescript door, accessible by climbing a short flight of stairs. Homely, but not extravagant.

  The woman, whose name was Eve Matthews, ascended the steps as she fumbled on her keyring for the right one. She inserted it into the lock and turned it.

  I floated behind, and followed her into a dirty lounge. On the floor was a dishevelled green carpet, and the only chair in the room was a moth-eaten love-seat. Sitting in the love-seat was a man, lying back and staring blankly at a small colour television, which was playing an old game show. There was a rubber tube wrapped around his right arm, and a syringe lay casually in his left hand.

  "Eve, baby," he groaned as she walked in the room. "Come over here and give the love of your life a kiss."

  She walked up to him, but didn't kiss him. Instead, she slapped the syringe out of his hand.

  "Aiden, you useless piece of shit! You're hig
h again. When are you going to get off your ass and get yourself a job?"

  "Ah, baby..." Aiden wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "You know I love you. Come on, give your munchkin a kiss." He tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her cheek instead.

  "Don't be like that, love," he slurred. "How about some nookie, huh?" He grabbed her hand and rested it on his crotch, through his grey chinos.

  This time, she didn't resist. She clicked her tongue, cocked her head slowly in mock disbelief, and said, "What are we going to do with you?" She unzipped his fly and got down on her knees between his legs.

  ***

  At some point during their love-making, they had moved to the bedroom. I won't relate all the grisly details (I admit I averted my eyes), but when they'd finished, they lay in bed, smoking a cigarette.

  "Baby, you know I love you," Eve was saying, "and you know I'm no saint, but that junk's going to kill you. You've got to stop."

  Aiden took a long drag on the cigarette and passed it to Eve. "Ja, maybe," he said. "Maybe I should give it up and go find a job."

  There was a moment's silence. Aiden stared into the deep pools of Eve's eyes, and she stared back. It was beautiful.

  Then Aiden's shoulders shook with laughter.

  Eve punched her boyfriend hard on the arm. "Dick!" She got out of bed and threw on a tee shirt. "And to think, I got on my knees for you. I'm going to make myself a sandwich."

  "Aw," yelled Aiden behind her. "Aren't you going to make one for your lovey?"

  Halfway out the bedroom door, Eve turned her head and snapped, "Make it yourself, you lazy slob."

  ***

  A few minutes later, Eve came out of their tiny kitchenette and into the lounge. She perched on the couch and tucked her legs underneath her, with the sandwich on a plate, balanced on her lap.

  Absently, she picked up the television remote and pressed the Power button. She lifted the sandwich to her mouth and robotically took a bite as she tried to focus on what was on the screen.

  Stupid-dumb moron. I don't know why I stay with him.

  Because you love him, the internal conversation with herself went.

  Maybe, but he's going to kill himself one of these days, and then where will I be? And even if he doesn't, he's going down, and he's going to take me down with him.

  Eve realised that she had no idea what she was supposed to be watching. She picked up the remote and clicked off the TV. Her sandwich was finished by now, and she absently dusted crumbs off her shirt onto the plate.

  She reached over and picked up her handbag, which she'd left on the coffee table earlier. Rummaging inside it, she found her phone and a spare packet of cigarettes. She lit one and scrolled through the contacts on her phone, stopping on Mom.

  She pressed dial and waited a few seconds, before she heard a voice on the other end.

  "Hi, baby! How are you?"

  Eve burst into tears.

  "Mom," she sobbed. "It's Aiden. He was high again, and—"

  Her mom sighed. "Oh, Eve, how many times do I have to tell you that man's no good for you? I don't know when you're going to just wake up and leave him. When he's got himself killed? Or worse... arrested?"

  Eve hung up. She couldn't deal with the "I told you so's" right now. She loved Aiden, and that was that. No matter what her mother said.

  She sighed contentedly, and made her way back to the bedroom.

  ***

  She got to the bedroom to find Aiden lying on his side, the covers bunched up tightly around him, even though it wasn't cold. The bedside lamp was still on, and she could see him breathing. He was also snoring heavily.

  Eve rolled her eyes.

  I really should have made him something to eat. Now he's gone to sleep without any supper.

  That internal conversation came again: He's not worth your effort. I'm sometimes amazed he can breathe on his own, without needing permanent mouth-to-mouth.

  That image made Eve giggle, despite herself.

  Still, I love him. He's my Aiden, and that's that.

  She climbed into bed and pulled some of the covers off of him so that she could have some herself. He groaned incoherently. After switching off the light, she shuffled closer to him, and put her arm around his waist.

  "Night baby. I'm sorry."

  He didn't say anything, but emitted a loud snort. Then the rhythm of his snoring returned to normal.

  Eve fell asleep smiling.

  ***

  The next morning, Eve woke up early for work. Aiden was still sleeping, so she busied herself with her morning routine. I learnt from her surface thoughts that she was a nurse at the local clinic, and she was currently on day-shift.

  After she'd finished getting ready and had eaten breakfast, she stuck her head through the bedroom door. Aiden was still sleeping.

  He looks so peaceful. I really shouldn't wake him.

  She had some time to kill, though, so she decided she would make him a cup of coffee. After she'd done that, she crept back to the bedroom and left the mug of steaming liquid on Aiden's bedside table. She shook him gently.

  "Aiden, baby. I'm leaving for work. I made you coffee. Don't sleep too late and let it get cold."

  Aiden rolled over and grunted. He wiped his eyes. "Thanks, babes", he said groggily. "Have a good day. I love you!"

  Then he promptly fell asleep again.

  Eve practically skipped out of the house. She kept thinking how lucky she was to have a man who loved her. So what if he had faults—didn't everybody?

  ***

  Eve had a pretty uneventful day at work. She did her rounds, gave a child a sucker here, helped someone to the bathroom there, and even had time for some tea-room gossip with the other nurses.

  Simone had a fight with her boyfriend the night before, about his habit of leaving the toilet seat up. Eve thought Simone had it good if that was her boyfriend's only fault. She didn't say it, though.

  Sometime after lunch, Eve was checking Nita's blood pressure, and chatting happily. Nita was eighty-three and had a hip replacement the previous day. The old woman was in high spirits, though, talking about her son and how he would be coming to pick her up that afternoon. She asked about Eve's love-life, and before long Eve found herself singing Aiden's praises—although she didn't mention the drug problem.

  Eve had just finished checking the gauge on the blood pressure monitor (one-thirty over eighty-two. Slightly on the high side, but no real cause for alarm) when the clinic's crash doors burst open. She muttered to Nita that she would be right back, and sneaked a peek down the passage.

  Two paramedics, a burly man and a young woman, were pushing a crash-cart with a man on it.

  "Possible OD!" the male paramedic yelled. "Can we get a doctor please?"

  Doctor Wilson came running, with Simone in tow. "We'll take him. What's he had?"

  The paramedics ran down the man's vitals while Simone and the doctor escorted them to an observation room.

  Eve returned to Nita's side. "Sorry about that. Never a dull moment in this place."

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Simone caught up with her in the tea-room. "Did you hear about that OD earlier?"

  "I did," said Eve. "I was in with Nita. Good thing you were there. It sounded hectic."

  "It was. Heroine. The poor guy shot up a bunch of the stuff. He didn't make it." Simone pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed under her eye. "It hit me pretty hard."

  Eve was stunned. She patted Simone on the shoulder. "It happens to all of us, babe. You go home and rest. You'll be okay."

  But it was Eve who wasn't really okay. She couldn't shake the image of the man, lying on the crash cart.

  What if that had been Aiden? I don't know how I could've lived with myself if that had been Aiden.

  Chapter Five

  Eve drove home with a heavy heart and mixed feelings. She truly loved Aiden, and because of that, she knew that she couldn't ask him to change.

  But the overd
ose patient that day had gotten to her. She realised that if Aiden didn't stop his ways, that could easily be him one day. Eve wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle that.

  She drove home quickly, and twice I had to intervene to prevent an accident. I don't know who her angel was before me, but he must've been good, to have kept her alive this long.

  As Eve pulled into their driveway, her heart sank. Parked in the street was a battered blue Polo hatchback, and the front door of the house was standing open.

  Enrico, she thought. Shit. That's all I need.

  I gleaned from her thoughts that Enrico was Aiden's drug dealer, and if he was here, Aiden was probably buying drugs.

  Determined to put a stop to it, Eve jumped out of her car and slammed the door. She stomped up the steps, through the open front door, and walked inside.

  In the lounge, she saw her fears realised. Aiden was sitting back on the couch, smoking. Enrico stood in front of him, talking excitedly and gesticulating wildly at packets of fine white powder, strewn all over the coffee table.

  "Hey, babe." Aiden's face lit up as he noticed her. "How was your day? You remember Enrico, right?"

  "Evie!" Enrico drawled, as he turned to face her. "Long time no see, girl. Your boy here's been telling me things. Good things. How've you been?"

  Eve suddenly felt sick. She didn't know what was going on here, but she was sure it had something to do with Aiden buying drugs. What else could that white powder have been?

  "I-I can't do this," she blurted out. She stormed up the stairs into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind her.

  She threw herself onto the bed and wept into her pillow.

  ***

  Much as I would've loved to stay and find out what was going on, I now knew that wasn't possible, so this time it wasn't a surprise when I found myself being pulled after Eve by some invisible, supernatural force.

  I stood and watched her, sitting on the edge of the bed, sobbing fiercely.

  Her thoughts were racing, difficult to pin down.