Guardian

There’s a lot that gets stuck on ya when you first become an angel. I remember it all when I died back in ’86, that feeling of “Holy crap, what now?” and how it’s all just one big scrambled egg rattlin’ around in your head where your brain should be. After a week or so, it all just gets routine, though. That’s when it finally sets in that you’re an angel and you’re dead and everything, and then the rest comes naturally.

You get your training wings first and then once the time is right, you get your real wings – not those cheapo ones they smack on your back when you go up to Heaven for the first time. You gotta prove yourself and not get in trouble, and then you’re free to fly wherever you wanna, just as long as you don’t end up in doggie poo. Then you’re alright and all.

You don’t gotta sleep, you don’t gotta eat (you can if you wanna, though, if you like the taste’a food), and you hardly even gotta do your business in the bathroom. Angels are immortal creatures, kinda. Unless you really get knocked on your noggin or somebody rips your heart out, or you lose a lotta blood, you’re fine. I hope that wouldn’t happen to ya at all, though. Happened to me. And it sucks, dyin’ a second time. ‘Cause once that happens, you can’t go back to bein’ an angel no more. That’s when your soul dies, and that’s it.

My soul died once. It was a few months ago on a rooftop in Manhattan when demons were attackin’ the city – my fault, sorta – and I got jabbed in the stomach by one of ‘em. And it wouldn’t’a been so bad if I didn’t keep on tryin’ to fight those things. Ol’ St. James took me up and laid me down on that rooftop after another demon tried takin’ me away again and then I saw him and Kyle around me, and then it all just went black.

But then everything went white again and I woke up in Heaven. And since that moment, I’d been tryin’ to get my head on straight again and be a good angel and everything. ‘Cause I was. I was real good at bringing people up there to Heaven and showing them around (sometimes twice a day I’d get a soul!), and those kinds of volunteers are always liked. Sad thing was that the reason I started doin’ that stuff was ‘cause I didn’t have no other way to spend my time. So I guess it’s kind of a happy accident that I stumbled across Kyle and he turned my afterlife a little topsy-turvy.

He didn’t want to go to no Heaven, and I wanted to help him out. You know, do that kinda stuff that friends do. And he was a lot like me when I was his age. When I died, I didn’t go to Heaven thinkin’ there was a guy in the sky watchin’ over me. Luckily, I got a second chance – so did he.

But he ended up causing a ruckus when Manhattan saw him falling off the roof of a building and then I sorta got mixed up in it too (I caught the kid) and then God got mad and made us rescue this kid James who was trapped in Antarctica, but then we went back to Heaven with him and God booted us outta paradise, and then we attracted a bunch’a demons when we staked out in New York. So that’s when I died for the second time and I woke up and everything was alright again, and that’s where this little ditty picks up.

My apartment wasn’t mine anymore when we got back. They put it up for sale and someone else took it since nobody was livin’ there no more. And when I found out and asked Pam (she’s one of the ladies who puts wings on incomin’ angels) for help, she just smiled weakly and told me, “Can’t you find someone else to stay with?”

So I did. And I brought Kyle with me too, since I wasn’t leavin’ a kid stranded in Heaven when it’s supposed to be all nice. And I got on my knees and begged good old St. James to let us stay with him, and he kinda laughed a little bit and said, “Okay, sure. But one of you has to sleep on the couch if you really have to sleep. There’s only one bed.”

And it’s been about three or so weeks since that’s gone on.

And for that time, somethin’s been nagging at my brain.

Ol’ Jimmy’s sittin’ on the couch in the main room of his little apartment – the couch where I’ve been sleepin’ for the past month or so – and he’s reading his little books. I never understood that kid. Since we got through all of that stuff, he never talks. He just reads. Though he never really talked when we were hidin’ in New York, either. I just gotta smile since he’s such a weird kid and it’s kinda cool and I wanna talk to him.

“Hey Jim.”

He flips the page, ignoring me.

“Jimmy.”

Nothin’. He sighs. I walk up to him and muss his hair, his curly hair he always combs back and to the side.

“C’mon Jim, what’s up your butt?”

He turns around, pursing his lips. “Who’s this ‘Jim’ guy you’re talking to?”

I roll my eyes. “Sorry. James. St. James.”

He smiles. “Good.”

Then he goes back to burying his head in his stupid book, but I plonk my butt down right next to him and yank it outta his hands. His eyebrows get all twisty and he lunges forward, tryin’ to grab it, but I hold him back by the shoulders and toss the book off to the side.

“Brady! I was reading that!” he groans. “You just made me lose my page…”

“Aw, who cares. It’s just some lousy ol’ book anyways,” I shrug. “I wanted to ask you somethin’, too.”

James gives me this confused little glance, crossing his legs and doing the same with his arms. He goes a bit red in the face but it don’t surprise me much. “What?”

I run a hand through my hair, feelin’ the scar right near my ear where I slammed my head when I died. The kinda thing I wanted to ask wasn’t somethin’ you asked another angel unless you knew ‘em for a long time. But this was on my mind and I just was curious. “Well…I just…I mean, do you remember when you died? Who was the one who took you up into Heaven?”

He’s quiet. He stares at me for a few seconds before covering his mouth and cocking his head to the side. Somethin’ flickers around in his eyes.

“I mean, you don’t gotta tell me or nothing, but -”

“No, it’s fine,” he assures, laughing. His head looks like a cherry but he’s all upbeat. “It’s just, nobody’s ever asked me that before. It took me a little off-guard.”

“Really? Nobody?”

He doesn’t say anything. He just scrunches his shoulders up in this big exaggerated shrug, biting his lip. “Well, I don’t really remember that far back, but the only thing I remember about the angel who took me up was that he was an army general in World War I. He was real blunt and to the point.”

Huh. “That’s it? He wasn’t nice or nothing?”

There’s a moment of silence where he stumbles over his words for a while, but the he gets back on track. “I wasn’t real lucky, I guess. He just pushed me through the gates and said, ‘Oh, you’ll learn it.’ It’s kinda funny looking back on it, though.” He scratched his chin, at the nonexistent facial hair he’d probably never grow.

“Guy seems mean,” I add, unsure of what else to say. I was expectin’ a little more.

“Who brought you up?” he just kinda randomly asks. But right after he says it, he gasps and his eyes get all big, and then he waves his hands out. “Wait – I mean – you don’t have to -”

I snort a giggle. The kid’s funny when he doesn’t wanna be. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

He looks like somethin’s hurting inside’a him, but he still manages to smile. I grin back. “But…I…I don’t wanna sound rude or anything, but…I do want to know, sort of,” he mumbles, receding into himself like a turtle in his shell.

“You kiddin’ me? No one’s asked me that, either,” I smirk. “Ah, I’d be glad to tell you, ol’ Jimmy boy…”

“My name’s not Jimmy.”

“…But I have no clue who took me up.” And I’m tellin’ him the truth. When I died, the first thing I was thinkin’ about wasn’t no angel. I was just trying to focus on why I was passing through stuff rather than just hitting it and why I wasn’t bleeding all over the place.

He furrows his eyebrows, unfolding his arms from being pressed so tightly to his chest. “How…why…someone had to have done it. I mean, it’s hard to get up here when you’re alone and don’t have any wings…”

“I know they did. I know it happened, but I don’t really remember who took me up. All I remember was that he was shorter than me. He was prob’ly a kid, ‘round your age, maybe – what’re you, sixteen or something?” I tell him. “And I don’t remember him sayin’ anything so I don’t know who he was. And that’s it.”

James does his little half-smile. “I’m nineteen, and that’s it? You can’t think of anything else?”

“Nope. My head’s blank when it comes to that.” Just for effect, I grin like a moron.

“Oh,” he says. His face falls a tad. Then he opens his mouth to say something else, but stops himself. Then he does it again. And again. Then he catches me staring at him tripping in his thoughts and blushes like he does best.

I snicker. “Havin’ trouble talkin’?”

“No, just…” He flounders. He rubs the back of his head like he hit it hard or somethin’. “Hey.” He snaps his fingers and brightens almost instantly. “You know, that reminds me.”

“Of what?”

“Are you gonna be Kyle’s guardian?” he asks. And when he says it, it hits me like a big old fish smackin’ me in the face.

Guardian?

I’d…you don’t really become someone’s guardian angel unless you really… I stare at him, dumbfounded, and say, “Am I what?”

He pulls his knee up to his chest and swings his arm over it. “Are you gonna…like, I know you and him are sort of close and everything, so…”

“I think he hates me too much for that,” I laugh nervously. It’d kinda suck to be rejected when you ask to be their guardian angel. Believe me. “I’d ask the kid and he’d punch me out for doin’ it.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Well, I don’t think he would,” James assures. Sort of.

“You don’t ask somebody if you can be their guardian unless you’re really close with ‘em. I don’t wanna freak ‘im out even more than he already is.”

“You’re probably the one he’s closest to. And I think he needs one, after that whole ordeal.” His thumbs are in his lap just twiddlin’ away like a time bomb. “Those real young angels…they can get caught up in a lot. He’s fourteen, not exactly an adult yet, and you’re twenty-seven. And you’re the one who took him up, after all. You asked for him.”

What he’s sayin’ is bouncing around in my head at a million miles an hour, slamming against the walls of my skull. It’s weird. I sorta feel like I’m nauseous, actually. But in a good way. He’s sayin’ this stuff I haven’t really thought about. Stuff I never even considered. I mean, a guardian angel? That’s nothing I ever would’a pictured myself being. Maybe to a human, but to another angel? Nah.

“You’d be good at it,” he goes on, reaching out and hitting my shoulder gently.

I look up at the kid and he’s beaming. “I never really got the point’a being a guardian to another angel, though. I mean…yeah. A human, I can understand. You see all these angels teaming up with their parents or siblings or something, but you don’t really hear about guardians of other angels…”

“I know a ton of angels who look after babies and little kids,” he shrugs. “And like I said, you’d be good at it. I know you would. If you gave it a shot, I’m sure he wouldn’t be rude.”

I roll my tongue all around in my mouth. “Yeah, maybe.”

~~~~~~~~~

It’s nine-thirty at night and I ain’t tired (immortal energy, fellas – you get it from bein’ dead for a long time), but there’s nothing to do in this boring apartment and I need closure.

So I’m standing at Kyle’s door – well, the guest room that he’s sleepin’ in, anyways. His door’s cracked but he’s not sleepin’. Good kid. He’s startin’ to get in the groove of doin’ angel things – and sleeping ain’t one of them. But he still eats like a human. He won’t touch ramen noodles anymore, though. Not after having to eat ‘em for the majority of his afterlife so far.

I gently knock.

“Who’s there?” he groans.

“It’s Brady,” I respond.

There’s some shuffling and then he says, “What do you want?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“…Fine. Whatever.”

The door creaks open when I push on it, and I see him lying in bed with some stupid teenie book with a nonsense title. It looks all dark in here. All depressing. I get that he didn’t really take much up with him up here, but geez, the kid could’a at least spruced up the place a little bit…

“Yeah? And?” he urges.

I clear my throat and stare at the ground. My hands sink into the pockets of my shorts. “Well…um…ya see, er…”

“You’re not getting this bed, Brady. I’m not sleeping on that couch and you don’t even need the sleep,” he deadpans.

“No, not that. Um, what I’m sayin’ is…” I wiggle on over and sit down on his bed, not caring whether or not he’ll give a crap. Then when I look the kid in the eye, he’s just giving me this outta-this-world-what-is-wrong-with-you stare. “Look. Okay, you know what a guardian angel is?”

“I know the term, but that’s kinda it.” He nods slowly, watching me like he’s scared I’m gonna start singing showtunes or somethin’. “Why…?”

I bite my lip and it starts hurtin’, so I suck in a breath instead and just pretend to act cool. “’Kay. Um, well, a guardian angel looks over somebody and makes sure they don’t get in trouble or get killed or whatever. Yeah. That’s what one is.”

“Okay then…?” He’s still giving me that funny look.

“What I’m sayin’ is,” I pause, blanking out. “Well, you don’t have one, do ya?”

“Why the heck would an angel have a guardian angel? That’s kinda redundant.” And perfect. He’s his own little peanut gallery self. I knew this’d be bad. Knew it.

I clasp my hands together, squeezing ‘em so hard the veins are popping out. “Well, nah. I mean, well…I mean, little kids and babies, they’re up here. And they don’t really know the ropes. And people gotta keep ‘em safe. So yeah. I mean, people can be guardians to humans too. They do that.”

A little smirk shows up on his mug like he can just tell what I’m tryin’ to say.

“So I just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me bein’ yours. Your guardian angel, I mean.”

His eyes get wide for a millisecond, but he breathes in real deep and exhales real slow like a tire losing air. He crosses his arms even tighter. Then he bites his lip and chews on his cheek some more.

“What exactly do they do?” he asks quietly.

“Oh, they do everything,” I gush, jittering away at the nerves. “A guardian’s supposed to watch over you and protect you and make sure you don’t get hurt. It’s just like what it sounds.”

But then he gets that skeptical look and tilts his head sharply. “Why the heck do you wanna be my guardian?”

Sometimes I hate talkin’ to this kid. I don’t even think he really gets the picture half the time. And when he does, he never shows it. Only time I ever saw him show any emotion was that one time in the hotel when he cried, and that was it.

So I just bite the bullet. Whatever, you know?

“’Cause I sorta care about you,” I grunt.

And he smiles. It’s not a real big one, but it’s a real one. You can tell. It’s not the ha-ha-that-was-funny kind, and it’s not the wow-this-is-awkward one. It’s real. It’s cool.

“Might be sorta hard for you to believe, but it’s true,” I continue. My heart has slowed down to its normal beat. Good.

“It’s nice,” he whispers under his breath. “Nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, anyway. My parents, even.”

“You don’t gotta say yes.” My throat is dry but I think I’m calm.

Kyle unfolds his arms. He flips the fiery hair outta his eyes and then he smiles some more. “I kinda wanna.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I…why not? I mean, what’s the worst that’s gonna happen? You’re an idiot, but you’re only a real moron when I’m bein’ one too,” he explains.

Well, he’s right.

“So, yeah. I think I’ll give you a shot.” A look of doubt flickers over his face. “Wow, that sounded weird, but whatever.”

I force out a little laugh. Mostly ‘cause I’m still sorta shocked.

“You’re supposed to keep me from dyin’ again, aren’t you? That’s what they do?” he asks, shifting his position on the bed and crossing his legs.

I shrug. “Yeah, that. And we’re supposed to give you guidance and crap.”

He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “And you have that experience…?”

“Pshaw! I’m twice your age,” I wave my hand. “I know tons of stuff.”

“Like how to make friends – oh, wait! That’s right, you don’t have any your age,” he digs, poking a hole in my soft spot. Back to normal.

I shoot him a dirty look. “Shut up, kid. I’m supposed to watch over you and I don’t wanna strangle you before it’s even official.”

He sticks his tongue out, smiling. “Then you’re not really a guardian, are ya?”

“I’m gonna try to be.”

“You’d better. I don’t wanna die again.”

“Then I won’t let it happen,” I reassure him. And with a crooked little grin, I add, “I promise ya.”