Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  “Hey, Zan, I think I’m gonna walk home tonight.” He smirks. “Reckless flyer, my eye.” Leo mocks under his breath. “And you were worried about her flying with me.” He shakes his head. “You could have at least warned me about her driving.”

  “Ah…you’re invincible,” I reply, patting him on the back.

  “Leo was going to take me flying?” Providence asks, wide-eyed and hopeful.

  “I offered,” he says.

  I shake my head back and forth. “Uh, no. No way.” I peer into her glistening eyes. “I will take you.”

  She wraps her arms around my waist. “Yay! Oh, tonight? Can we tonight?” Her stomach jumps in excitement and her hazel eyes plead.

  “I don’t know about tonight, Prov, but soon.” Her lips crinkle in disappointment. “I promise…soon.” I kiss the crown of her head. Leo sticks out his index finger and acts as if he were wrapping a string around it. His wide playful grin reaches his ears.

  “Guilty.” I nod.

  We enter the pale-yellow hallway, and the aroma of fried chicken wafts and swirls around our noses. Providence waves her hand in front of her face as she steps away from the heat blasting out of the kitchen door. We meander into the dining room, where the large, round tables and metal chairs with green foam seats sit waiting for guests. Salt and pepper shakers are placed in the center of each table. The three of us move in a circuit, leaving napkins and silverware on the tables in front of each chair.

  “I love the mural,” Providence comments as her eyes scroll over the hand-painted wall. “It’s so bright and fun.”

  She scans over every inch of the painted wall and brushes her hand over the designs she likes the best. Her mind wanders. Who painted these? How long did it take? What were they thinking of? A warm sensation of hope rises in her belly. She spins on her toes and faces me, smiling wide, with a sparkle in her eye. She moves in my direction between the chairs. She gives me a tiny hug and draws a heart on my chest with her fingertip.

  Thanks for inviting me. This thought is directed at me.

  When I asked Providence to come with me, she didn’t even think twice before agreeing. “My place is with you.” That is what she told me. She was perfectly content spending her Friday evening serving Cincinnati’s less fortunate. And so this angel fell in love with that human…all over again.

  The guests spill into the room taking every empty seat. I’m on drink duty tonight. After the mad rush I experienced last time I came here, I volunteered for drink duty in hopes that I would be able to have more interaction with folks. Unfortunately, I am quickly finding out that my interaction is limited to asking whether they want lemonade or fruit punch. The servers appear to be drawing most of the attention, and in Providence’s case, I’m certain it has as much to do with her beautiful, cheerful smile as it does with the fact that she’s serving hot fried chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Her baggy, gray Xavier sweatshirt and loosely fitting jeans haven’t stopped the guests from gawking. She skips back into the room and sets two warm plates down in front of guests and joyfully makes small talk. On her way back to the kitchen, Leo takes her by the hand and twirls her around in between the tables. He hums an upbeat tune, and they do the train, shaking their bodies through the doorway. I pour a few more glasses of fruit punch, the drink of choice this evening. Leo and Providence prance back in, plates in hand, and sashay between the guests. A tall, African American gentleman stands up and spins Providence around in circles and then dips her slightly.

  Oh my gosh! A hint of panic strikes her face and she giggles, more to mask discomfort than joy. Guests begin to clap at their performance. She quickly curtsies and scurries back to the kitchen, a rose rising in her cheeks. Her heart rate quickens, so I follow after her.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t prepared for that, that’s all. No biggie,” she pauses, brushing a wisp of brown hair out of her eye, “Just stay close, okay? Leo, I’m good with, but I’m not looking for any other dance partners…aside from you.” She winks.

  “If it’s any consolation, I think you just made that guy’s week.” I grin.

  “I’ll make your week,” she says under her breath, smiling.

  I grab her around the waist and tug her close to my chest. “You already made my week.” I smile and kiss her forehead.

  “All right, you two, keep it clean.” Leo slices his arm between us, separating us.

  I turn to head back into the dining room and she taps my rear. I glance back over my shoulder, but she is already picking up two more plates from the kitchen. We have been so preoccupied with everything else going on it has been a couple of weeks since we have had fun like this. I have missed the swirl of excitement in her belly that occurs just before she acts flirty with me. The same thing happens when she contemplates kissing me, except in those cases her face glows and she bites her fuller bottom lip.

  I make my way around the room mingling and refilling drinks. I finally spot a familiar face.

  “How do you do, sir.” I place my hand on Forest’s shoulder.

  “Nice to see you again,” Forest replies.

  “Same to you. I finally made it back.”

  “And I see you brought a friend this time.” He tilts his head toward Providence.

  “I did, yes, sir.” I wave her over.

  “I want you to meet someone,” I say to Providence, “This is Forest.”

  She extends her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  We both glance down at this week’s sketch, and redness rises on Providence’s cheeks. He’s captured every single detail of her profile, the crease that forms when she smiles, showing her high cheek bones, her long, dark eyelashes, even the lobe of her ear and her small, silver, hoop earring. Forest adds a few final touches and slides the drawing across the table to her.

  “That is for you.”

  She covers her mouth in surprise. “Oh my…thank you so much.” Her eyes examine the picture thoroughly. “It really does look like me.” She extends her hand to the older gentleman.

  Guests slowly trickle out of the diner, wiping their mouths and rubbing their bellies. Quiet thank-you’s are murmured as they leave. Leo and I wash down the tabletops and plop the chairs upside down on top of them. Providence sits at a table in the front of the room, talking with one of the handful of women who come here for dinner. She listens intently to the woman talking, nodding frequently, and smiling brightly.

  She occasionally sips the lemonade I poured for her after she told me she was “parched.” The sourness makes her tongue roll, and she drags it along the roof of her mouth to tame it and gives her head a little shake. Maybe that’s why fruit punch was such a hit tonight. I don’t know how to make lemonade properly. I pour her the last drops from the pitcher of fruit punch and set it on the table on my way to the kitchen.

  “Thank you,” she says, and I give her a nod. She resumes her conversation, enjoying the sweetness of the fruit punch. I should have known fruit punch was a better choice, given her love of floofy drinks and heavily sugared coffee.

  Providence escorts the older woman to the door and bids her farewell. Leo and I finish cleaning up. He starts chasing me around the dining room with a wet towel spiraled as tight as a whip and proceeds to thrash it at me. I bounce over to my safe haven, Providence. I gently push her in front of me, holding her upper arms, and sway her back and forth as Leo creeps closer.

  “Awe, real nice, man, use your girlfriend as a blocker.”

  “Yeah, real nice, Zan.” Providence rotates her head back to me in disbelief, although a half smile sneaks up on her.

  “Put down the rag, Leo.” I say, laughing with Providence still protecting me.

  “Unfair advantage,” Leo whines, “You know I wouldn’t whip this at her.”

  “Precisely.” I clench her arms and wink at Leo.

  “Fine.” He tosses the rag into the water bucket. “Spic and span.” He glances around noticing the shine on the tables. Well, as much shine
as can be expected on faux-wood tables made from particle board.

  “See you next week,” Leo yells and waves at the diner coordinator.

  Providence tosses me the keys, but Leo still decides to walk home. She settles into the passenger seat and yawns.

  “This has been the longest week,” she mumbles, tired.

  “I agree.” And I truly do. I wouldn’t have thought that coming from a place where all I had was time, but for whatever reason, this week has felt long. After my second full week at the firm, my first Monday morning feels like forever ago. The cases have been incredibly interesting, but time-consuming.

  Providence turns up the radio. Apparently the Friday Night House Party just began, which supposedly means the DJ only plays the good songs, an untouched subject in angel school. Fortunately, Providence keeps me up to speed on this type of thing. I laugh to myself. She peers down at her sketch, observing a different aspect of the drawing as we pass under each street lamp.

  We arrive at her house. The warmth lingers in the April air, so Providence takes a seat on the top step of her back deck.

  “Zan…” She pauses. “I had fun tonight.” She stares down at her hands, folded in her lap. She massages her thumb. Numbness clouds her eyes, and a pit opens in her chest, that, right now, I can only describe as a feeling of loneliness.

  “I’m glad you came with me and had a chance to spend some time with Leo too.”

  “Yeah, he’s great. Tons of fun.” She laughs a moment as she recalls their dance. “Zan…” She pauses again, and I sense her next question or statement is going to be a loaded one, but her thoughts aren’t formulated enough to tip me off, so I wait. “Why do I feel like I’m losing you?”

  The Talk

  She rests her elbows on her knees and cups her chin in her palm staring at the side yard. Despite her relaxed behavior, her heart beat speeds up and a lump forms in her throat. The hole in her chest reveals certain loneliness, not a feeling I want her experiencing.

  It occurs to me that I have been stand-offish this week. But it has nothing to do with Providence. I love her more than ever. I’m having trouble pinpointing it exactly. Am I caught up in preparation, duty, or am I subconsciously stalling my fall? Anyway, it’s too soon for that. My papers aren’t supposed to be in until next week. Next week. I sigh. Panic clouds my eyes, so I blink and turn away from her. My silence has her on pins and needles. The one thing I know for certain is that she isn’t losing me.

  “Providence, you’re not! What would make you think or feel that way?” I turn her chin to face me.

  “I don’t know. I just…I just feel like I’m never with you anymore. You’ve got this great new job, your callers, and this whole big new life ahead of you.” She tries to turn away from me, a little embarrassed to admit it out loud. I squat down in front of her and hold her soft cheeks in my hands.

  “I know I’ve been busy. I’m sorry. I’ve been so focused on my work for Luke.”

  “It’s not about that. That’s an incredible opportunity. I know you need it,” she says softly.

  “I know I’ve been overly attentive with my callers. I’m not ready for them to take me yet.” And out it comes. I nearly gasp. The real reason: I’m not ready to lose my wings yet. Ever since we met with Hope and Luke, I have been less and less interested in rushing my fall.

  “I know. I know they are your duty,” she replies, interrupting my thought. I wish it were solely about my duty to them, but deep down I know it isn’t. It’s mostly about me.

  I hold back a sigh, afraid to confess the truth. So, I focus on her. “Providence, I love you. I want nothing more than to be with you.”

  “I know you do…” She pauses and her eyes confirm belief. “Well, my head knows, but lately…” Her voice softens and she inhales a deep breath. “I think what I’m trying to say is…I want you here.” She stands up, side-stepping me, and points to her heart. “Not just physically here, but all here.” She waves her arms around in a big dramatic circle, “Emotionally, whatever. I know that sounds ridiculous. I want you to be transparent with me, Zan. No secrets, remember.” She focuses her eyes on mine. “I feel like something is going on and you aren’t sharing it with me.”

  Sitting down on the step she just vacated, I take a deep breath. “I’m scared,” I blurt out. Providence takes a seat next to me and clasps her hands around my bicep, gazing at me intently. “Of what?”

  “The fall.” What I will be when I come back, or rather maybe it is what I won’t be: an angel.

  Her heart sinks and her breath gets caught in her lungs as she thinks I have changed my mind about our future. And she loosens her grip. I place my hand on hers, holding it steady. “I want you, forever. The big new life ahead of me is nothing without you,” I say, convincingly.

  Her lip curls slightly, but a tear rolls down her cheek and her voice gets caught behind the lump in her throat.

  What are you saying then?

  “I’m saying I’m going to do it, but once it’s done, it’s done. And maybe I don’t need to rush into it. We can just be, like this, for a little while longer.”

  Like this. She doesn’t have to say it aloud for me to hear the questioning tone. “But why? I don’t understand. A few weeks ago you couldn’t wait. Is it something Luke said? Is it something I did?”

  I shake my head no. “When I come back I won’t be an angel anymore. That scares the crap out of me.” She rubs her hand up and down my back. “My existence will never be the same. And, Providence, please don’t read into that. I choose you, but…”

  “But what?” she asks, anxiously. Her stomach churns, and she shivers, both from nervousness and the recent drop in temperature.

  I drop my head and stare at the step. “Are you still going to want me when I don’t have wings?”

  She gasps. “Zan, is that was this is about? We’ve been through this.”

  I shrug. Perhaps it is. I’ve come to terms with the pain of the fall and I am actually excited about becoming an attorney. I will miss flying, though, but not enough. And I know I said I would choose this path even if it only meant spending one human moment with her, but I have to be honest. That would be a tough pill to swallow.

  “You’re worried I won’t love you when you aren’t my angel?” She forces me to sit up straight so she can curl up on my lap. She grazes her lips across mine. “Zan, I love you for all that you are and all that you will become. So, if it is even possible, I believe I will love you more.” My chest rises and falls. I inhale as though I already have human lungs. We longingly gaze into each other’s eyes.

  “The best is yet to come for us,” I whisper as she lays her head on my shoulder, curling it into the crook of my neck. “I guess I just needed reassurance.”

  “I’m sorry I begged you earlier about flying.” She lifts her head. “I mean—don’t get me wrong—I totally want to before you are human, but I’m good with just once.”

  “You have flown with me once.” I grin.

  She huffs. “Sober. I’d like to fly with you sometime when I’m sober.”

  “And you will, soon.”

  That’s what you always say.

  “And I’m serious.” I sense something is still gnawing at her. “Hey, I really mean it,” I say, rocking her.

  “No, it’s not about the flying.”

  “Then, what is it? Talk to me.”

  She hides her face in my navy shirt. “I feel a little like I’m in a holding pattern, like a plane just circling the sky waiting to land. I feel like I’m waiting for my life to begin.” You know what you’re doing with your life. She thinks without meaning to...When will our life together begin?

  “Let’s go inside. You’re shivering.” She crawls out of my lap and mopes inside, unhappy that I didn’t reply. But I really need a few minutes to figure out how to reply. I haven’t spoken with her father yet, and I’m still finalizing a few details.

  Once inside the kitchen, I spin her around, clenching my hands around her tiny arms, and I lo
ok into her hazel eyes. “Providence, I want you, for-ever.” I enunciate slowly.

  “And I want you, for-ever,” she responds in the same tone.

  “Then, it’s settled.” I release her arms and walk toward the stairs leading to her room.

  “What’s…settled? What’s settled?” she yells, ticked off, stomping after me.

  “Shh.” I point upstairs, where her dad is sleeping. “Your plane won’t be circling much longer, Little One.” I desperately try to hide my smile, but I’m sure the gleam in my eyes gives me away.

  “What does that mean?” A crease of confusion forms at the bridge of her nose. She gasps. “Oh…oh…” Her stomach flutters like a bird furiously flapping its wings and scarlet colors her cheeks. “Eek! Oh my gosh!” She runs across the room and hugs me, nearly taking me to the ground. “Ooh, sorry,” she whispers in my ear without letting up on her grip.

  “That’s okay. I like your enthusiasm.” I smile, holding her tightly to my chest.

  I reflect on our conversation. There was that part of me, deep down, that questioned whether she would love me when I would no longer be an angel. It’s truly amazing how the tiniest thought can fester and whirl around in your mind until you almost begin to believe it. Funny, I’ve already slipped into the human condition of doubting. The distance between us was caused by me, my own doubt, doubt over something that was never a question in her mind, or heart. It seems stupid now. All I had to do was talk with her about it. Maybe then she wouldn’t have been feeling as if her life were in a holding pattern.

  Still giddy from our earlier conversation, Providence flips on the television hoping to calm down enough to go to sleep. I sit in her room reading. Several minutes pass and I worry she’s asleep on the couch, so I climb down the stairs and peek around the corner into the living room. Her eyes are glued to the television. Her jaw is wide open, and she holds her toothbrush, unmoving, in her mouth. I move to face the television to see what has her so mesmerized: a commercial for a ceramic knife called a YoshiBlade. I dart my eyes from her to the TV and back. She has yet to notice I’m in the room. She is still mesmerized. Toothpaste begins to escape at the corner of her mouth.