by Бри Деспейн
His eyes seemed too bright to be real as he stared down at me. "Nice to know you don't do everything perfect," he said, and rather than just letting me drop the last two feet, he tightened his grip around my arm and pulled me effortlessly up to meet him on top of the pillar.
"How ... ?" But I was unable to speak when I looked into his bright eyes.
Daniel wrapped his arms around my trembling body and jumped. He stuck a perfect landing on the gravel inside the memorial, and set me on my feet.
"How ... how did you do that?" My legs felt as soft as a couple of well-kneaded putty erasers. My heart beat too fast. "I didn't know you were so close behind me."
Or that he was so strong.
Daniel shrugged. "I've had a lot of practice climbing since we used to race up the walnut tree."
Yeah, from sneaking into a lot of places, no doubt.
"But how did you catch me like that?"
Daniel shook his head like my question didn't matter. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and started down a narrow walkway that stretched in between two tall hedges.
I bent over and slipped my heels on. My head swam a bit when I straightened up. "So what's so special about this place?"
"Come," Daniel said.
We walked down the path until it opened into a wide gardenlike expanse. Trees, vines, and bushes, which were probably dotted with blossoms in the springtime, filled the open area. A misty fog swirled around us as we followed the meandering path deeper into the garden.
"Look there," Daniel said.
I followed his gesture and found myself standing eye to eye with a white-faced man. I gasped and jumped back. The man didn't move. The fog parted, and I realized he was a statue. I stepped to the edge of the path and studied him closer. He was an angel, not of the cute cherub variety, but a tall, slender, majestic figure, like an elfin prince from The Lord of the Rings. He was dressed in robes, and his face was carved with great detail. His nose was narrow and his jaw was strong, but his eyes looked as though he had seen the wonders of the heavens.
"He's beautiful." I ran my hand along one of the statue's outstretched arms, tracing my finger along the folds of his robe.
"There's more." Daniel gestured to the rest of the garden.
Through the fog, I made out more white figures, standing as majestically as the first. Little spotlights shone on their heads from above, making them look particularly divine in the dimming evening light.
I drew in a breath. "The Garden of Angels. I heard someone talking about this place once, but I never knew where it was." I moved down the path to the next regal statue. This one was a woman with long, beautiful wings that tumbled down her back like RapunzePs locks.
Daniel followed behind me as I floated from angel to angel. Some were old and ancient looking. Others were young children with eager faces, but they were still slender and noble like the rest. I stretched up on my toes at the edge of the path to brush another angel's wings.
Daniel laughed. "You never stray from the path, do you?" He passed close behind me, his arm brushing across the small of my back.
I looked at my toes perched on the border of the gravel trail, and rocked back on my heels. If only he knew how imperfect I felt most days. "Isn't that supposed to make life easier?"
"Doesn't that make life boring?" Daniel flashed me a wicked grin as he slipped between two of the statues and disappeared into the mist. A few moments later, he reemerged onto the path near an angel statue that was taller than the rest.
"This place was built as a memorial for Carolyn Bordeaux," Daniel said, his voice drifting back to me. "She was rich and greedy and hid away her wealth, until one day, in her seventies, she took in a stray dog for no apparent reason. She told people that the dog was an angel in disguise, who revealed to her that she was supposed to help people. After that, she devoted the rest of her life and fortune to helping the needy."
"Really?" I walked closer to him.
Daniel nodded. "Her family thought she'd gone crazy. They even tried to have her committed. But at the moment she died, an otherworldly chorus of beautiful voices filled her bedroom. Her family thought the angels must have returned to claim Carolyn's soul, but then they realized the house was surrounded by singing children from the orphanage where Carolyn volunteered. The Bordeaux family was so touched they built this memorial for her. They say there is an angel for each of the people she helped. There are hundreds of them throughout the garden."
"Wow. How do you know all that?"
"It says it on that plaque over there." Daniel grinned, as devious as ever.
I laughed. "You had me going there. I was starting to think you were some kind of intellectual, what with all this knowledge of obscure local history and quoting religious scholars."
Daniel bowed his head. "I had a lot of time to read where I was."
The air felt thick between us. Did Daniel want me to ask him where he'd been for the last three years? I'd wanted to--since the moment I first saw him. That question was just as important as finding out what happened between him and Jude. No doubt those two answers were connected. I told myself to seize the opportunity--to finally find the answers I needed so I could fix things for good.
I clenched my hands, digging my fingernails into my palms, and asked before I could change my mind, "Where did you go? Where have you been all this time?"
Daniel sighed and looked up at the tall statue next to him. This angel was a young man--early twenties, maybe--who was accompanied by a stone dog that sat at attention at his side. The dog was tall and slender like the angel, its triangular ears stretched to the man's elbow. It had a long snout, and its bushy coat and tail seemed to get lost in the intricately carved folds of the angel's robes.
"I went back east. Down south. Out west. Pretty much every other directional cliche you can think of." Daniel crouched down and studied the dog. "I met him when I was back East. He gave me this." He brushed his black stone necklace with his fingertips. "He said it would keep me safe."
"The dog or the angel?" I goaded. T should have known better than to think Daniel would give a straight answer to my question regarding his whereabouts.
Daniel swept his shaggy hair out of his eyes. "I met the man this statue was carved for. Gabriel. T learned a lot from him. He talked about Mrs. Bordeaux and the things she did for other people. He was the one who made me want to come back here. To be close to this place again ... and other things." Daniel stood and sucked in a deep drag of foggy air. "Coming here always gave me such a high."
"You mean you used to come here to get high," I said, hazarding a guess.
"Well, yeah." Daniel laughed and sat on a stone bench.
I instinctively took a step farther away from him.
"But T don't do that anymore." He tapped his fingers on his legs. "I've been clean for a long time."
"That's good." I dropped my hands to my sides and tried to look casual and unshaken by his admission. I knew that he was no saint. I knew that his life had gone to a dark place long before he'd disappeared. I'd seen him only three times in the six months after he moved away to Oak Park with his mother--the six months that led up to his vanishing altogether. The last of those three times was when the Oak Park public high school called Dad because Daniel had been expelled for fighting. They couldn't reach his mother, so Dad and I had to escort him home. But in some ways it was like thinking of my own brother doing drugs or something worse.
I glanced at the tall statue of Gabriel the Angel looking down on us. His carved eyes seemed to rest on the crown of Daniel's head. That thread of curiosity pulled me to the seat next to him on the bench. "Do you believe in angels? Real ones?"
He shrugged. "I don't think they have feathery wings or anything like that. I think they're people who do good things even if they get nothing out of it. People like your father ... and you."
I looked up into his glinting eyes. Daniel reached out his hand like he wanted to brush my cheek--little tingles sparked under my skin--but he pulled
his hand back and coughed.
"You're all crazy, if you ask me," he said.
"Crazy?" My cheeks flamed even hotter.
"I don't know how you all do it," he said. "Like Maryanne Duke. She had nothing and she still tried to help people like me. I think she was an angel."
"Is that why you came to the funeral? For Maryanne?" And not for me?
"I used to stay with Maryanne when things got messy between my parents. If I wasn't at your house, I was with her. She was always there for me when others weren't."
Daniel wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. His fingernails were blackened with what looked like marker ink. "I just felt like I should pay my last respects..."
"I guess I forgot. Maryanne took care of a lot of people."
"Yeah, I know. I'm not special or anything."
"No. That's not what I meant... I'm just sorry I didn't remember." I put my hand on his shoulder. He shrank away, and I could barely feel the firmness of his body under the fabric of his coat. "Things were really hard for you. I'm sure Maryanne made you feel--"
"Loved?"
"I guess. Loved, or at least normal."
Daniel shook his head. "I felt close to loved sometimes. Like when Maryanne read me stories at night, or when I'd sit around the table with your family. There's nothing like a Divine family dinner to make you feel like someone might care about you. But I never felt normal. Somehow, I always knew I didn't ..."
"Belong?" For some reason I could understand.
"I never did belong, did I?" Daniel reached up and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist. He moved like he was going to cast my hand away, but then he hesitated and turned my hand over, cradling it in both of his. "But I can't tell you how many times over the last few years I wished I could be eating at that table with your family. Like I could take back everything I did, change things so I could be a part of it again. But that's impossible, isn't it?" He traced his warm fingers up the heart line in my open palm, and slipped his fingers in between mine.
It may have been the glimmering from the spotlights or the swirling of the fog, but for a moment he looked like the old Daniel, the one with white-blond hair and mischievous but innocent eyes--like the years had melted away and the darkness had drained out of him. And in that moment, something--an energy--passed between us. Like the thread that had drawn me to him was now a live wire, a lifeline, that bound us together, and I needed to pull him to safety.
"We're having a big Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow," I blurted out. "You should come. I want you to."
Daniel blinked. "You're freezing," he said. "We should go inside somewhere."
Daniel stood up, still holding my hand, and led me down the gravel lane. I didn't know when he was going to let go of my hand--and I didn't want him to. And I held on because I knew he needed me.
He finally let go as he stepped off the path and into a patch of decaying plants. "The fence isn't as high if we go this way," he said.
I hesitated for a moment on the edge of the path, watching him slip away into the mist. I stepped off the gravel walkway and followed him through the depths of the garden. When we made it to the iron fence, I let him help me over, his hands skimming my waist and legs as I climbed. We walked side by side as we found our way back to the motorcycle. Our fingers brushed once, and I longed for him to take my hand in his again. I climbed on the back of the motorcycle and took in a deep breath of Daniel's earthy scent as the bike shot into the city night.
A FEW MINUTES LATER
The motorcycle lurched to a stop in front of Daniel's building. I slammed into his back and almost flew right off into the gutter.
Daniel gripped my thigh and steadied me. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, and let his hand linger for a moment.
Daniel got off the bike, and I followed. He rested his arm on my shoulder and steered me up the sidewalk and through the door less entry of the apartment building. My heart thumped so hard as we went up the stairs I feared that Daniel might hear it. The thumping grew louder and heavier as we climbed, and I realized there was music coming from behind a door on the third landing. Daniel put his key in his pocket and tentatively pushed open his door. Sound engulfed us. Gyrating dancers packed the front room, and Zed--looking much more lively than he had before--sang (i.e., screamed) into a microphone while a few other guys banged on musical instruments with reckless abandon.
Daniel led me into the throng. I choked on the sickly sweet smoke wafting in the air. I was coughing and sputtering when this person, who looked more woman than teenage girl, emerged from the crowd. She came toward us, moving and convulsing to the indiscernible beat of Zed's song. Her short hair feathered out like she was some type of exotic bird, and her bleached white bangs made three perfect triangles on her forehead--the tips of them were dyed a garish shade of pink.
"Danny Boy, you made it," she said in an Eastern European-sounding accent. She turned her thick kohl-lined eyes on me and plumped her blood-red lips.
Daniel released my shoulder.
"Oh, look"--she took me in from head to toe--"you brought treats. T hope there's enough to share."
"Grace, this is Mishka, We knew each other a long time ago," Daniel said about the female clad in a black leather mini and what I think is called a bustier.
"Not so long, Danny Boy." She leaned her breasts up against him. "But you were more fun then." She traced a long, red, talon like fingernail down his cheek. "You must come with me now." She pulled Daniel away from my side. "You have kept me waiting, and Mishka is not a patient woman."
'"Come on, Grace." Daniel held his hand out to me. I was about to slip my fingers into his when Mishka scowled, "No!" she said. "I do not perform for an audience. This one stays here."
"I won't leave her behind."
Mishka leaned in even closer to Daniel, her gleaming teeth brushed his ear as she spoke. "You and I are the only real players here. Your girl will be fine without you for a few minutes. Mishka will not wait for you any longer, Danny Boy."
She pulled on his arm, but he didn't budge.
"Do you need a reminder of how I get when you disappoint me?" She narrowed her eyes and licked her lips.
"No ... but Grace ... ," he protested halfheartedly.
Mishka turned her glare on me. The irises of her eyes looked jet-black in the apartment's murky light. She brushed my arm with her talons, and her teeth seemed awfully sharp as she smiled. "You do not mind if I borrow my Danny Boy for a few moments," she said, but I could have sworn that her hps never moved--like I'd heard her voice inside my head.
"Um ... no," I said, suddenly not minding much of anything. Maybe it was just the sick sweet smoke engulfing the room, but as Mishka stared into my eyes, I couldn't think, let alone care, about anything.
"That's a good girl," Mishka said. She looped her arm through Daniel's and led him away from me.
Daniel glanced back and said, "Stay put. And don't talk to anyone."
At least that's what I think he said. My brain felt too fuzzy and my tongue felt too heavy to say anything back. I stood there in bewilderment until I was almost knocked flat by someone. I blinked at her through my fog. All I could make out was a girl with green hair and more piercings than face. She stopped "dancing" and leaned in close, squinting her seemingly too-large eyes. She said something I didn't understand, and I tried to ask her if we knew each other from somewhere. But what came out of my mouth didn't even sound like words. She stumbled away, laughing hysterically to herself.
I retreated to the dark hallway that led to the bedrooms and took in a few breaths of slightly fresher air. I was about to knock on Daniel's door when I heard Mishka laughing from behind it. My stomach churned, and as Zed's noxious song drifted into another melody (this one eerie and pulsing, with Zed breathing heavily into the microphone), my hazy thoughts cleared and I realized that I had been abandoned. Any moment, or connection, or energy that Daniel and I had shared was gone.
"Well, 'ello there, darling,'' a guy said as he approached me from
the crowd. "Didn't expect to see you 'ere again." He smirked, and I realized he was one of the foulmouthed guys I'd met here before.
"Neither did I." I pulled my wool coat closer around my chest. Any sexiness I had felt in my Sunday clothes suddenly felt overly naive.
"You look like you could use some fun." His voice was as slippery as a serpent's. He offered me a plastic cup filled with dark amber-colored booze--something fizzled ominously at the bottom. "I can show you a good time if you're feeling neglected."
I waved the cup away. "No, thanks, I was just leav-ing."
"That's what you think." He slammed his arm out in front of me, blocking my escape. "This party's just starting." He tried to brush his cup-filled hand where it didn't belong.
I dove under his arm and through the crowd to the door. The green-haired girl teetered in the open doorway. She slurred a nasty name at me as I pushed past her. I went down the stairs and out of the building. I listened carefully at the exit, and when I heard footsteps on the metal stairs, I bolted down Markham Street.
My luck must have turned because as I came to the end of the block, a bus headed in the direction of home pulled up to the curb. I bounded up the steps when the doors swung open and prayed I had enough money for the fare. The driver grumbled as I counted out my change, but I had enough, with thirty-five cents left to spare.
The bus was almost empty, except for a couple of grizzly men shouting at each other in a language that reminded me of Mishka's accent, and a forty-something-year-
old guy with bottle-thick glasses who cradled a baby doll in his arms and crooned to it in deep, fatherly tones. I took a seat in the back and hugged my knees to my chest. The bus lurched and jolted and smelled faintly of urine, but I felt safer there than I had in that apartment's hallway.
I couldn't believe that Daniel had abandoned me to those people. Couldn't believe that I went with him into his apartment in the first place. What might have happened if it hadn't been for that party? But mostly, I was ashamed that part of me had wanted something to happen.