Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  “Zan? I believe we actually, informally, met in the elevator once. I assure you, there will be no tears tonight.” She smiles and shakes my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, officially. Your daughter was terrific.” She nods. I peer over my shoulder. Providence hides behind me, clasping her white-knuckled hands together tightly in front of her, feeling jittery.

  Summer’s mother says, “I’m going to talk with Bradley’s mother. Come over when you’re finished here.” Summer nods.

  I turn around and curl my arm around Providence’s waist. “Summer, I’d like to introduce you to Providence.”

  Providence opens her mouth to speak, but Summer beats her to it. “Did he sneak up on you in the hospital too?” she asks.

  Providence giggles. “No, well, not the hospital.” She nudges my side.

  “Well, that’s what he did to me. But I called him out on it. Next day he showed up looking like a priest.” She cackles. “He’s pretty cool, though, never got grossed out when the treatment made me throw up. Got pretty good at holding back my hair too, what was left of it, at least. I’m better, though, for now.” She holds up her hands, crossing her fingers.

  I force a laugh, not welcoming the memories of her illness. “You did a fantastic job up there, Summer. I’m really proud of you.”

  Summer nudges Providence. “Angel law. He has to tell the truth,” she whispers, sounding as though she’s letting Providence in on some big secret.

  Laughter bursts from Providence’s mouth. “And he absolutely is. You were awesome.”

  “Well thanks.” She blushes underneath her blotchy white makeup. “You look like you have something to tell me.” She squints her light blue eyes at me.

  I turn to Providence. “I told you she was brilliant.”

  “I have cancer, Zan. I’m not blind. You have confessional eyes.”

  “Confessional eyes?”

  “That’s what my mom calls it when I look like I have something to confess that isn’t necessarily bad, but isn’t usually good either.”

  Providence tilts her head to the side. “Huh, you do have those eyes.” She speaks as if it’s a fact.

  “Providence.” I give her the you-are-supposed-to-be-on-my-side look.

  “Told ya.” Summer smirks.

  “Well your mother is very wise. And it’s true. I do have some news to share. Would you like the good or the bad first?”

  “Bad.” She leans toward Providence. “I like to end on a positive note.”

  “Okay. Here goes…I’m not going to be your angel much longer. They are going to assign a replacement.” I frown.

  “Awh! But why? I like you. I don’t want a replacement. I gave you a good grade.”

  “Well, that’s where the good news comes in.” I take Providence’s hand in mine. “Providence and I are getting married.”

  “Yay!” Summer claps her hands. “So explain this. Why can’t you be my angel and marry her?”

  I swallow. “Well, angels aren’t allowed to, uh, comingle.” Providence squeezes my hand.

  “So, let me get this straight…” Summer shakes her pearly white finger. “You’re stepping down as an angel to marry her?” She points to Providence.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes, that’s correct.”

  Summer throws her arms around my waist, slamming her head against my chest. “OMG, that is the sweetest, most romantic thing I have ever heard.” I rub her pillow-y back, look at Providence, and shrug. I wonder where this little girl learned “OMG.”

  “I mean, I’m not surprised…” She steps back and places her gold arm on her pearly white hip, rounding out the handle of her teapot. “Look at her. She’s beautiful.” Summer twirls a strand of Providence’s brown hair around her finger. “You’re lucky. Any man that will hold your hair while you puke and carry you to bed afterward is a great man. When I’m older, I hope I find someone like Zan.”

  “Much older,” I add.

  Summer rolls her eyes. “Zan…” She peers up at me with her light blue eyes. “You’ll still be around, though? I can still see you? You just won’t be able to pop in on me anymore, right?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll still visit you.”

  “Shoot! My mom is waving me down.” She teeters back and forth from one foot to the other. “Hey, Zan, I’ll give the replacement a hard time too.”

  I laugh and stretch my arms out to hug her.

  “You were great tonight.”

  “Thanks.” She looks at Providence before engulfing her in a hug. Providence holds her breath, caught off guard.

  As Summer waddles away, she turns back and hollers, “Let me know if you need a flower girl.” She swishes her hands from side to side, acting as though she’s dropping flower petals to her left and right.

  “We do.” Providence quickly replies.

  Summer makes a fist and pulls her elbow down to her side, saying, “Yes!”

  “Providence…” I stare at her lovingly, and while she typically makes snap decisions, this one surprises me. “Really?”

  “Really. She was your first caller. She’s practically family. And I absolutely adore her. She puts you in your place.”

  “Reminds me of you in that respect.” I wink.

  A lump forms in the back of Providence’s throat, and I worry I upset her.

  “Zan…” She fiddles with the buttons on my collared dress shirt. “Part of it is selfish.” She tilts her head to the ground.

  I lift her chin, “Which part?”

  “The part of me that knows I’m going to desperately miss you while you’re gone and I would love to have someone in my life who knows you the way I do.”

  “No one knows me the way you do, Little One.” I brush my thumb across her rosy cheek.

  “I mean knows the angel you. I feel like Summer and I have a connection with you that Grant, Luke, and others don’t. So I thought that maybe if I spend time with Summer, when you’re gone, I will feel like I have a part of you, She’ll remind me of you.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Oh gosh! I’m being 100 percent selfish. We do need a flower girl, though.” She ends in a cheery tone and grits her teeth.

  We stand locked in an embrace on the sidewalk beneath the blooming Bradford pears. A breeze blows, and small, white, silky petals billow around us, filling our noses with the fragrance of florally sour milk, produced by the otherwise beautiful trees. The happy chatter of children weakens as families disperse, pile in to their respective minivans, and drive away. The cloudless blue sky deepens as the night closes in on us.

  I believe we are all selfish at one time or another, including me. The reason I’m standing outside this school today holding Providence in my arms is because I’m selfish, because I want her, for myself, all of her, including those sacred parts I shouldn’t even be thinking about. And I sincerely hope there are a thousand selfless acts in my future to make up for this one. In Providence’s case, I believe there will be a time when Summer needs her and the roles become reversed.

  The Notice

  Fingers clack against keyboards, filling the room with a constant background hum. Out of the corner of my eye I notice wrists shaking, stiff from hours of typing, as the graduate law students finish the writing portion, day two, of the exam. One day remains in this drab, white-walled, florescent-light-filled, windowless room, warmed by the continuously operating computers. The hopes and dreams of lifelong success has my surrounding peers on the edge of their seats wishing for today to be over, the exam to be over, so they can burn every last flash card that covers their desk at home and begin working and earning a living.

  Earlier, during a short break, I met most of the people that sit around me. Creatures of habit, we all sat in the same seats as yesterday and I anticipate the same tomorrow, like pews in a church. Nevertheless, it seemed appropriate to say more than “Hi” after spending over eight hours sitting two feet away from each other. This way I can stop referring to them by their scents or habits: Old Spice, Pencil Twirler, Chanel No. 5, Gu
m Chomper. Fortunately, there are no graduates from “my” university in Illinois because I have no way to explain how I earned my degree without ever attending a single class.

  Oddly enough, I am enjoying today’s written section of the examination, and I can’t decide if it’s because I was excited for Summer’s performance and couldn’t wait to leave this dreadful room yesterday, if I prefer the freedom that comes with writing my answers versus clicking a box, or if I’m anxious for what awaits me when I leave here, the latter being the most likely answer. With every completed sentence, I cringe and attempt to delay the inevitable by reading and rereading each paragraph, as if that will actually help. It’s a timed test.

  I close my eyes for a brief moment and Avery fills the blackness with her round face, squared chin with a little dimple in the middle, and her large, deep-blue, almond-shaped eyes glaring at me. The news I have to share with her is not going to settle well, particularly given her frequent nightmares. But I have to tell her. It would be unfair of me to allow her to wake up one night to an angel other than me.

  The clock ticks. Fingers continue to rattle across the keyboards, and moments before time is up, I reread my response to the last test question, taking a deep breath and stretching when it’s finally over.

  I sit on the sidewalk staring out at the nearly empty, blacktopped parking lot, counting the few cars that remain, only those of the student athletes still finishing up after school practice. The massive red-brick suburban school stands behind me and to my right, forming an L. I rest my elbows on my knees, holding my chin up with my palms, and stare at the asphalt, my eyes moving in and out of focus, coloring everything gray. An ant drags me out of my daze as it marches into view. It crosses the asphalt under the bridge of my legs, purposefully moving around my shoes, up the wall of the concrete sidewalk, over the edge, and heads off toward the grassy field on my left side. I avert my attention from the ant to the sound of girlish laughter coming from double glass doors at the entrance to the school.

  A crowd of teenage girls bustle out of the building, and I stand up, finally getting a glimpse of Avery standing in the center of the group. Despite being of average height for her age, her volleyball teammates tower over her. The girls are wearing matching white sport shorts and various colored T-shirts with the sleeves shoved up under the shoulders, making them appear to be sleeveless. They all sport black flip-flops, not the feminine thong-style ones Providence wears, but rather, ones with thick, black, Velcro straps covering the tops of the girls’ sockless feet. Wisps of light brown hair fall out of Avery’s ponytail and lie against her cheeks and neck.

  She turns her head to me, and a surprised look forms on her face. She says something to her teammates, waves, and walks over. The soles of her flip-flops scuff the ground with every step forward and her duffel swings against her hip. A limp causes her to favor her left leg. As she moves closer, the dull ache I experience from her shin shifts to a throb.

  “To what do I owe this honor, Zan?” She raises her eyebrows, surprised to see me but glad the visit isn’t following a nightmare for once.

  “Hey, are you hurt?”

  “Nah, just a bruise.” She looks at the deep, red, round splotch on her shin where the ball smacked her. “Surely you aren’t here to talk about my volleyball injury, though.”

  “You have a minute?”

  “Of course,” she says. But you already know that.

  I smile. “Sit with me?” I ask, taking a seat back on the edge of the sidewalk.

  Avery tosses her bag to the ground and sits down next to me, nervously sliding her bare feet in and out of her flip-flops. Her heart rate picks up as queasiness takes over her stomach.

  I turn and look fixedly into her deep blue eyes. “I have something to talk with you about.”

  “So…talk,” she says impatiently, fidgeting with her fingers.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay. Please just hear me out first.”

  “You’re starting to freak me out.” She clenches her hands into white-knuckled fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

  “Relax.” I tap my hand on hers. “Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine. I’m not terribly good at this. Please just don’t call me a crackhead again.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood.

  Now I remember why I told Providence it was best for her not to join me for this one. Summer is so easygoing and possibly the most selfless person on earth. I knew she would be happy about my decision, but Avery, not so much.

  “Are you giving me a reason to?” She spouts in typical teenage fashion.

  “Please listen first before you panic or get pissed.” She rolls her eyes and flicks her wrist. “I’m going to take that as yes.”

  Just say it!

  “I’m not going to be your angel much longer,” I blurt out, feeling a light weight lift from my shoulders. “Don’t worry.” I quickly add. “A new angel will be assigned to you. I am shifting…uh…careers.”

  “What the…” Heat of anger creeps up into her throat, and I am tempted to move away for fear she may breathe fire any moment.

  At a loss for words, all that comes out of her mouth is, “Wha…why, no, you can’t.” She follows with a scowl, a huff, and a quivering bottom lip.

  “Avery.” I put my arm over her shoulder. “You were the only person I feared telling.” I inhale a deep breath, the smell of freshly laid mulch circles in my nose. “I fell in love with someone.” She tilts her head up and scrunches her face in confusion. “Her name is Providence. And I, so unbelievably selfishly have chosen a life with her, which means I have to give up…this one.” My words come out sounding so calm. But I shouldn’t be surprised; I have been practicing this speech for some time.

  “That’s a little more than a career change, Zan,” she snarls.

  “I know,” I reply calmly.

  “You’re freaking pulling a Lucifer.” At least I think that’s his name, bad angel, whatever. “This is crazy. How did I end up with the rogue angel? I’m sorry, Zan, but I almost don’t believe you. You’ve been too good.” She shakes her head, rejecting the idea of it, and lightly chuckles.

  “I’m not pulling a Lucifer.”

  My situation is different, isn’t it? Or is sin, sin, regardless of form? I still give Him the glory. Luke is a good man. It must be different. It has to be different. I blink my eyes.

  “Believe me when I say this was not a snap decision. I thought long and hard about it. I’m sorry you ended up with me. I truly am.”

  She looks into my eyes. “Oh my gosh! You’re serious about this. You’re turning me over to some random angel. Who are you handing me off to?” she barks.

  “I don’t know who they will assign to you.” And this is when I have to turn my eyes away from her.

  “Crap! Oh, this can’t be happening.” She holds her head in her hands and rocks back and forth. “You were the one constant in my life, Zan, the only thing I believed would always be there for me. Parents won’t. I’m living with that now.” A lump builds in her throat. “What am I supposed to do? Oh my gosh! My nightmares. Zan, I can’t exactly tell my mom I’ve been having horrible nightmares for months and the only way I can get back to sleep is if my angel is with me. She’ll send me to a shrink.”

  “I’m sorry. I promise the angel assigned to you will take great care of you, probably even better than I.”

  “That’s not possible. And how can you promise that? You don’t even know who it is,” she chokes out, unable to control her quivering bottom lip.

  “I know who assigns angels and He is the one constant in your life. I know I’m terrible and selfish and you got the short end of the stick with me, but my choice is not a common one. I know your next angel will be with you forever, and for that, they are better than I.”

  That part I know with absolute certainty. Any angel assigned to her will be better than I am. One moment I’m ushering Linc to heaven, the very act I was created for, and the next, I’m rolling around in bed with Pro
vidence, an act I was in no way created for. Somehow I have managed to downplay my sin as if there were varying levels. I compared it with Lucifer and his rebel army and murderous humans, believing those sins are worse. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

  Everything appears to be progressing seamlessly, except me. I’m torn. I have succumbed to temptation. I have sinned. I have assumed the human condition as though I’ve already made my fall. I’m caught in a world where I so desperately want to live and be with a woman I so undeniably love.

  Son of Adam, the name I have chosen for myself, couldn’t be more appropriate. I’m shameful. What was once beautiful and pure is now tarnished and blackened, a scar really. You know what caused the scar, but there is no way to ever remove it or go back and change it. It’s a constant reminder of a misstep, a wreck. I close my eyes and shake my head because I know I could change it. But I won’t.

  I feel as if I should erupt into flames, turning into a pile of ash, and the only reason I can think as to why I am still sitting here right now is because I’m filled with too much love. Love for Providence, love for Summer, Avery, and all my others. I have remained committed to the duty I was sent here to do. And I guess that counts for something.

  Avery doesn’t respond. She stares blankly at her fingers rubbing the top of her thumbnail. Jumbled thoughts race through her mind. The nausea she felt earlier is subsiding, but the hollowness in her gut remains. Abandonment, I think.

  “You don’t deserve this. I hate that I’m doing this to you, that you got stuck with me, the crappy angel.” Anger rings in my tone. “I really am sorry.”

  And yet, I am not changing my decision.

  “Look, Zan.” She turns toward me, her knees hitting my shin. “This totally sucks and I’m really pissed about it.” She tilts her head up, peeking her watery eyes at me. “But I see the pain in your eyes. And I don’t want to. You’ve done too much to take mine away.” She lays her hand on mine. “You were there for me when no one else could be and maybe this is God’s way of making me stronger, to start dealing with my dad’s death head-on.” I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up a finger. “So, I guess what I’m saying is…I forgive you.” She looks into my eyes for another second, then stares off into the empty parking lot. “I know I’m young and I probably barely know what love is, but I think I love Asher, and if you feel for Providence anything like I feel for him, I get your decision.” She turns her head to face me. “Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, though.” Nut job. She elbows me in the side.