Fly Me Away

I was stunned into temporary silence. Jackson’s house was beautiful.

It was just the right size – Not too big and not too small. The outside was dark polished wood and a deep grey colored roof. It had some eerie kind of magical feel about it, which was hard to explain. The way the garden swirled around the house and a water wheel protruded from the corner; Just the fact that it was so secluded and surrounded by dense forest.

I took a moment to glance up at Jackson, who was right beside me. He looked like he belonged there; he fitted in. Equally as dark and mysterious.

“Do you like it?” he asked, staring out at it like I had been.

I whipped my head back to the sight before me. “It’s stunning,” I breathed, walking up a stone path towards the front door. “And you only live around the corner from my house!” I added brightly.

Jackson laughed lightly at something, “Come inside. I apologize if it’s a little bit bland.”

---

The inside was not bland.

“Oh, it isn’t as bad as I thought,” Jackson said, flicking the lights on as we stepped straight into a grand sized living room. “I haven’t really looked at it before...”

The furniture, just like him, fitted perfectly. Dark and neutral colors. There were no crazy knickknacks lying around like there were at my place, just perfectly placed furniture and nothing else. It still had that distinctive smell of a new house.

“You haven’t even looked at it?” I poked around the room curiously.

“It came fully furnished,” he explained, “and I spend most of my time wherever you are.”

I followed him past the living room and into the kitchen.

“Kitchen,” he said unnecessarily, flicking the light on, then walking straight through it.

I tried to take it all in quickly before we walked out the other end. The kitchen was modern, but looked very unused, as if the people selling the house redid it before it sold, and Jackson had never used it. Which brought up an interesting question...

“Jackson, do you eat? I mean, you ate a hot cake once, but other than that...”

He laughed and spun around as if he was waiting for me to ask. I almost ran straight into him, but managed to stop myself at the last minute.

“I can eat,” he said darkly, “but I don’t need to eat, unlike yourself.”

“You don’t need to eat?!” I squealed. I couldn’t imagine how something like that would work....

He smirked and shook his head, “I don’t need to do a lot of things,” he added, before turning back around and leaving me to ponder his confusing statement as the tour continued.

Both of the bathrooms were untouched, and I noticed that the hallways were lined with empty frames. That was scary. There were a grand total of 3 bedrooms, all of which looked pretty much identical, apart from one, which I assumed Jackson had claimed as his.

“Sorry about this,” he mumbled, as we walked into the third bedroom.

I smiled. Ah, so he wasn’t perfect!

There were clothes strewn out all over the room, hanging off the edge of the untouched bed and creating a small pile in the corner. I couldn’t help but grin as I watched him stride over and rapidly start folding up his clothes. “Why are you smiling?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Because ‘Mr Perfect Jackson the Angel’ has a messy room,” I laughed and stood in the doorway with my hands on my hips.

“I think we both can agree that I am no Mr Perfect,” was his response. He wasn’t smiling like I was.

I frowned and stepped into the room to help him fix it, but he shook his head. “I’ll do it,” he insisted, picking up the heap of clothes in the corner and stepping out of the room. I shrugged and sat on the bed.

He sure did have a lot of clothes for an angel. I wondered how he got all his washing and such done. I just assumed he left me for small amounts of time to change his clothes, but what else did he leave me for? It wasn’t too much of a big deal I guess, nothing bad had ever happened when he wasn’t there.... not that he ever told me when he was leaving....

He returned a moment later and proceeded to clean the room at lightning speed. I watched in awe at his quickness. He had all the clothes picked up and folded neatly within 10 seconds. It almost made me dizzy to watch.

“So this is where you go to change your clothes?” I asked, my eyes still trained on him as he closed all the cupboards and draws at a normal speed.

He nodded and sat down on the bed beside me, “and this is where I park my car and keep all my things....not that I have that many things.”

“Your art supplies?”

He smiled and nodded, “they’re around here somewhere.”

“...so you’re not really an art student are you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

He laughed and shook his head, “I did go, but when you turned 18 I stopped showing up to classes. They told me I was wasting my talent and hunted me down like lions. Eventually I had to pull out of the course, to the schools despair.” His laughing became loud as if this was the funniest thing in the world. I shot him a confused look and shuffled around on his bed, making myself more comfortable.

“My Mom did say you were really good,” I complimented. Inhumanly good...

“I’ll thank your Mother next time I see her, which will probably be soon won’t it Maggie?” He smirked at me and my face heated up. Stupid Mom. She just couldn’t help herself could she?

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes running down the bare skin on my arms. I took a breath in quickly and felt my face get even hotter; I resisted the urge to place my hand on my cheek to check. Jackson rose to his feet, and I found myself rising too and following him as he started walking out the door.

“It’s getting cold. I think there’s a fireplace in the living room....” I could see him concentrating as he tried to remember. He really hadn’t been in this house that much.

I couldn’t argue with him, it was getting cold, and a fireplace sounded mighty fine. In my rush to get out the door of my own house, I hadn’t bothered to grab a jersey. I didn’t really expected to be out when the sun went down, that was how sad of a teenager I was. I usually just threw away my weekends.

“Do you get cold Jackson?” I asked quietly, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

He shook his head, “No not really,” he placed the back of his hand against my cold arm, and I prayed that the goose bumps came from how cold it was. His hand was lukewarm; the perfect temperature. My cheeks were burning up again and I was silently glad he hadn’t decided to prove his point by touching my face. He pulled it back quickly and sent me an apologetic smile “but I can tell when you are.”

I nodded and lowered my head shyly, embarrassed at how much I relished such a simple gesture.

As we stepped into the living room, I noticed something that had eluded me the first time. My eyes were drawn to the top of the mantel piece where the two paintings Jackson painted of me that fateful day where hung proudly. I marveled at them both again, and was honored that they seemed to be the only personal touch in his house.

He noticed my staring and rubbed the back of his neck, “I couldn’t let them go to waste.” He grinned and knelt down before the fireplace, flicking on some switches and attempting to start the fire.

I stood there silently and nodded to myself. They were good. But then as I continued to stare, I felt the embarrassment seeping back – Jackson had pictures of me on his wall.... did he like them because he painted them himself? Or because they matched his living room...? Or because maybe he thought that I was...

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed the thoughts from my mind. Don’t be stupid Maggie, he already told you he wasn’t interested. He brushed you off without giving it a second thought and you accepted it without giving it a second thought, don’t give yourself any ideas. They’re just paintings. He’s a flipping angel for Christ sakes!

I scoffed indifferently and flopped down onto a deep purple sofa, crying out slightly when I sank straight down into it.

Jacksons head shot up from what he was doing. I immediately regretted making any noise when I found that I had sunk comfortably into the middle of it, and that it was the most comfortable sofa I had ever sat on.

“Wow this is so nice!” I lifted my legs and sprawled out shamelessly across it. Jackson shook his head and went back to what he was doing.

We were both silent and I listened to the scuffling of him starting the fire. I founded my gaze lingering up to the two paintings, then shooting away again several times, a strange feeling in my gut every time it happened. Eventually I just shut my eyes, opting to clear my head and relax, which was incredibly easy with Jackson nearby.

After a few minutes, I saw the dim haze of a bright light through my gently closed eyelids, and immediately felt the warmth that went with it.

“This is great you know... I can’t believe you don’t spend much time here,” I said, without bothering to open my eyes.

After I didn’t receive a response, I hesitantly opened them, squinting against the bright orange of the fire. Jackson was on the sofa beside mine, sitting with his head leaning back over the top of it and his eyes closed peacefully. I had never seen him so relaxed before.

I couldn’t look away. God knows how long I just sat there and stared at him like that. A part of me kept saying that he knew I was staring at him. Admiring him. But another part of me simply didn’t care; the part that didn’t care what him or anyone else thought about me. The part that I liked.

“You’re a smart girl,” Jackson low voice startled me and I jumped a bit, “I bet you’ve noticed that I don’t sleep.”

Honestly, I’d never thought about it. “No rest for the weary,” I joked lightly.

He laughed softly, nodding in agreement and finally opening his eyes. He made no move to sit up from his loose position, and neither did I. I was quite content with just lying on the extremely comfy sofa.

“Is it you doing this?” I asked blissfully, adoring the feeling of calm as I listened to the fire crackling.

He looked over at me and for a brief second, I didn’t think he understood me, but then he answered, “No. You’re quite capable of feeling relaxed without me Maggie.”

I inwardly frowned. I didn’t think I was, but I didn’t want to upset him further by saying it out loud. I’d done enough of that for the day.

I’d keep the mood light.

“I have another question,” I announced, shifting my head so I could view him better.

“I don’t doubt that,” He laughed lightly again. I reveled in the sound.

“Where did you get all the money from? I mean, the house, the car, the clothes....”

He shrugged and his broad shoulders fell limp against the sofa, “Nowhere in particular. When you’ve been 20 years old for 48 years and you have nothing to spend money on, it tends to accumulate.”

Many many questions sprouted from his answer.

“What where you doing before you came here?” I asked eagerly, shifting more into a sitting position.

He smiled lazily and shut his eyes again, “I worked in an office in Stuttgart.”

I knew this one. Stuttgart, Stuttgart, Stuttgart....

“Wow Germany?!” I exclaimed, I feeling a sudden spark of excitement.

“Yes. Germany was nice, but the office job wasn’t. What a welcomed relief it was when that messenger came and sent me to you.”

I blushed.

I couldn’t help it. I knew he was comparing my company to an office job, but I still blushed. The way he said it gave me goose bumps. Thank goodness his eyes were closed as he spoke, “I came here three months before you turned 18, so I had plenty of time to get all these things sorted out.”

That made sense now. The house, the car, the clothes, the art school... but one thing was off. It was almost like he was expecting to meet me in person, rather than just being a fly on the wall, like he said he was supposed to. But I let it go. I didn’t want to get too much into detail. If I left it, he’d just explain in his own time and that seemed like a better idea, rather than pinning myself down with information.

“Although, taking care of you is not as easy I expected it to be. Having such a sudden shift of responsibility....” he trailed off and I glanced over. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes remained closed. He was thinking about something.

I sighed and rested my head on my hand, “I’m a heavy weight.”

“...not literally.” He smiled a smile that reached his eyes as he looked back at me, “I’ve had to carry much heavier people than you my dear Maggie.”

I raised an eyebrow, “This sounds like an interesting story...?”

“And a long one.” He dismissed, “I’ll save it for another day.”

I nodded; in his own time. I took a deep breath in and settled back into my comfortable sprawled out position. When I briefly looked over to Jackson, I saw that he’d done the same. He deserved to take a rest. I smiled contently to myself and trained my eyes on the fireplace, listening intently to warm sound it made.

But I thought of something while I was watching the flames, and it made my insides burn with curiosity. A question that I felt like I needed to ask, but wasn’t sure whether I should or not. He had forced it on me once before, so it shouldn’t have been too difficult to get the answer I wanted.

“Jackson,” I voiced quietly, still a bit unsure.

He breathed out as he spoke, “Yes Maggie.” He had been expecting another question, but I was positive it wasn’t the one I was about to ask. I sat up in anticipation, shifting along the soft leather fabric of the sofa.

“Can I...” I hesitated. It was mostly just out of curiosity, but it felt important, in a way, “Can you...could you show me your wings again?”