Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  “I don’t deserve that, but thank you for saying it.”

  “I’m not just saying it; I’m forgiving you. It’s what I ought to do, right? The only reason I was mad at you initially was because I’m losing you, my constant. That’s me being selfish. So whose selfishness is right, yours or mine?” She looks at me with raised eyebrows. “Exactly. Neither is.”

  I lay my arm over her shoulder and pull her into my side for a hug. “You are wise beyond your years, Avery. And for the record, I think you are doing a great job dealing with your dad’s passing. But always remember, you don’t have to do it alone. Don’t be afraid to lean on the people who love you.”

  “It’s been months. When will the nightmares stop?”

  “I don’t know. It’s traumatic losing a parent so young. But if I’m not there, another will be. I promise.”

  She nods. “Will I ever see you again or is this it?” She leans her head on my shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my lil’ bro, but I’m going to miss having you around. You were like my big brother.” She wrinkles her nose. “Awh! This really stinks,” she whines.

  “I’ll still be around. You’ll just have to use the phone instead.”

  To say I am surprised by the outcome of our conversation is an understatement. I’m shocked. Shocked to hear her say, “I forgive you,” and mean it with every ounce of her being. I’m not saying Avery isn’t a forgiving person because I know she is, but that she so graciously accepted my choice even though it means some potentially big changes for her personally. I underestimated her. I expected punching, maybe even some cursing. But she took the news with great strength. My little charge is growing up.

  And she’s right. What’s the saying? “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” Today, Avery put down her stone and took the high road.

  The Friday

  It’s Friday, May 20. The Friday.

  I’m not frightened, a tad uneasy, more so about leaving Providence than anything else, though. I’m at peace with my choice, particularly after the burden of breaking the news to Avery was lifted off my shoulders.

  A thin ray of light beams in through the hole in my boarded-up bedroom window as I dress for work. Fortunately, the smell of mildew has passed along with the April showers. The sniff test was becoming a daily routine. Providence must have noticed too because she washed all of my, Grant, and Leo’s clothes. So now they smell only of dryer sheets.

  Yesterday marked the final day of my exam. Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could have withstood another day in that windowless dungeon of a room. On a gray day in January, possibly, but not a sunny day in May and not when I have a hundred other places I need to be.

  I thought I would feel relieved to have it over, one exit closer to the new-life ramp. Not the case. Instead, I’ve been consumed by the signs flashing past: “Leaving Providence–5 miles,” “Leaving Providence–4 miles,” “Leaving Providence–3 miles.” No matter how brief my “trip” may be, I still want to come to a screeching halt before I reach the one-mile marker.

  I spent the bulk of last night quizzing Providence in preparation for her algebra and history exams today. For every right answer I gave her a fruit snack. It took three bags before she was “fruit snacked out.” She begged me to sit with her during the exams, hoping for angelic guidance, but I haven’t been to the office since Monday and considering my upcoming vacation—that’s what Lacey thinks it is—I really need to make an appearance. I can, at a minimum, attempt to tie up a few loose ends before Gabriel comes knocking. However, my ability to concentrate on any one thing will be a struggle today.

  I flip down the collar of my white dress shirt, straighten the knot of my tie resting it snug against my neck, and pull on my navy suit jacket. I glance down and run my fingers over the lime-green silk tie Providence gave me yesterday. It was my Yay-you’re-finished-with-exams present. I didn’t get her anything for hers, maybe the house will count. Anyway, the tie, it isn’t a neon lime-green. It’s a bit more subtle than that, but she commented that it would spruce up any plain suit. Since all I have are plain suits, I have to agree with her point. It certainly does that. However, that could also have something to do with the fact that there are tiny gray and brown squirrels strategically placed all over it. I didn’t need to ask, “Why Squirrels?” I knew the answer to that. Because they’re “Super C.U.T.E.” of course. It seems that she debated between the squirrel tie and one with frogs leaping from lily pads. Ultimately, she decided the squirrel one was more professional. I’m not entirely certain why, but it was not a question I was willing to ask either. I know better. When your bride-to-be gives you a lime-green, super C.U.T.E. tie with squirrels on it, you wear it proudly. And so, I smooth it against my white, wrinkle-free dress shirt, grab my car keys, and head to the office.

  After Providence fell asleep last night, I decided to visit all of my callers. Most were sleeping, but it’s not as though they knew me anyway, not in the flesh at least. I wanted a chance to say good-bye, even if it was only for me, a formal closure to my assigned duty.

  Avery’s nightmare had a nice little spin to it. This time she was running in slow motion in her black, thick-strapped flip-flops, except as the faceless man’s fingers grazed her jacket, her flip-flops grew white angel wings. She instantly woke up, both gasping for air and giggling. She appreciated the comic relief that concluded the otherwise horrific film that played in her sleep.

  Yellow sunlight streams in through my large, arched office window and I plop down in my black-leather office chair trying to focus on something other than the blue sky outside my window. I spin around, facing my desk and flip on my computer.

  Question one…argh!

  I smile. Two weeks have passed and Providence is no closer to enjoying algebra.

  Zan, you’re a genius and have been around forever … who the heck decided it was a good idea to use Xs and Ys. Seriously, why couldn’t they have chosen better letters, like P or Q, or like S or T? Everyone loves Ss and Ts.

  I laugh again and try to recall when that concept first came about. In between her amusing ramblings, I visit with Luke, reply to a few emails, and type up an agreement Luke gave me, hoping it would take my mind off Gabriel.

  Last question. Yeehaw!

  I burst out laughing. I’m not sure I’ve heard the cowgirl side of her before. And even though her voice is in my mind, it sounds exactly the same as it would have if she were standing in front of me.

  Lacey stops in and drops two, thick manila folders on my desk and harasses me again about not having a cell phone in this day and age. It’s something I can’t bring myself to get, not until I’m officially human.

  Lacey is a younger woman, probably early thirties, if I had to guess. Attractive with blondish-brown, long hair, hazel eyes, heart-shaped face, a wisp of bangs lying over her right eye. She’s incredibly organized, hardworking, and always smiling. I can pinpoint her heavy-concentration days because she ties her long hair up into a bun and shoves a pencil through to hold it up off her neck, making her look more like a librarian than a paralegal, if there is such a look. Sweet woman, she spoils me, scheduling all of my appointments and doing random tasks for me, such as going to the bank.

  I spin around in my office chair and stare out my window again but am quickly interrupted.

  Scantrons, who uses scantrons? After graduating high school I never thought I’d see one of these again. Age of technology, my eye! Then again, this is history class. So I guess it suits.

  I can almost feel her hand cramping from penciling in the boxes so hard.

  I hate questions that begin with “In the war of whatever, what General…?” Blah, Blah! Thank goodness it’s multiple choice. Zan, if you’re listening, I have officially crossed over the bridge to Dullsville.

  She’s cracking me up.

  Lacey knocks on my office door reminding me it’s half past one. A watch is another item I intend to invest in when I come back. I throw on my suit jacket and head into the bright, sun
ny afternoon. The sky is midday blue and cloudless. The trees are now full of leaves. Most of the daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths have shed their petals, but the early summer flowers are beginning to bloom, coloring my drive along the parkway from downtown to my soon-to-be home. I open my sunroof to soak in the sun’s rays and the warm breeze. It smells like honeysuckle. If Providence were with me, she would have the radio blaring, which is exactly what I do. As sappy as this may sound, I want to feel her next to me.

  Providence finished her final and is meeting me at the house to “sign our lives away,” as home buyers often say when they have to sign a million documents.

  I pull up in front of the house, parking along the curb, not bold enough to park in the driveway yet. The closing agent hasn’t arrived and apparently Providence “had to, had to, had to” get some Yagoot (tangy soft serve) on her drive over. So, I stand, alone, on the brick-paved driveway, staring up at our home. Our home!

  The wood-shingled roof slopes steeply toward me, resting at its lowest point over the two-car garage. There are gray, wooden balconies off the left and right corner of the second floor bedrooms peering out into the street behind me. Through the sliding glass doors I can see they are vacant, move-in ready.

  I laugh, to myself. We have no furniture aside from what’s in Providence’s bedroom. Oh well, all in due time.

  A cream-colored stucco wall about four feet high closes in the front yard. I open the plain, wrought-iron gate and walk along the path that leads to the wooden front door, surrounded on all sides by glass, making visible the foyer all the way through the back glass window to the backyard. But before reaching it, I turn and round the corner of the house, admiring the construction: gray, stone walls, light-gray wood, and deep-green ivy climbing up one of the two stone chimneys. Standing on the ivy ground cover in the back, I peer up at the decks that shoot out from every level of the house. Trees tower over me, shading me from the early afternoon sun. When everything is in full bloom you can’t even see the street that runs in back of the house. Circling the house for a third time, I peek in all the lower-level windows—empty. By the fifth trip around, I finish my prayer and after the seventh, Providence pulls into the driveway, followed by the closing agent.

  Hugging Providence to my side, we walk through the front door together. The foyer flooring is a sand-colored ceramic tile. A wooden spiral staircase leads to a bridge connecting the upper floor of the left side of the house to the right side. We walk toward a small hallway where the ceramic tile meets the hardwood and the room opens to a bright, large, sunken living room, walled with windows. We step down into the living room, and I take note of the fireplace. I turn back to Providence and lift her chin to close her mouth before she begins to drool. She giggles. By the time we walk into the enormous kitchen, the agent has papers spread across the black granite countertops of the rectangular island that runs the length of the kitchen. Providence grabs the Rivers & Abel pen out of my hand and begins signing as the agent explains each document.

  She tilts her head up to me and mumbles, “Aren’t you glad I bought the YoshiBlade? Sure will come in handy in this kitchen.”

  I nod and chuckle.

  With all the paperwork signed, the agent dangles the keys in front of Providence. A smile lights up her whole face, warmth and giddiness spread through her body. The agent takes a picture of us holding the keys at the front door, just like the one of Providence and her mother when she first bought the Civic.

  Providence takes my hand and leads me around the house. “And this is where we’ll entertain,” she says as we enter the tableless dining room. Light streams in from the windowed corner of the room. “And this is where you’ll grill out,” she adds as we stand on the deck outside the main-level living room. “And this is where the magic will happen.” She raises her eyebrow and winks as we walk into what I understand now to be our bedroom. An entire stone wall rises up, perfectly accented with the second fireplace.

  “Magic?” I play dumb.

  “You know…magic.” She winks twice.

  “I was just trying to make you blush.” She rises up on her toes pulling on my tie and brushes her lips across mine.

  “Good lookin’ tie, cute butt.” She drags me onto the deck off the bedroom. “I dream of sitting out here with you on Saturday mornings, drinking coffee.” She beams.

  She tugs me along into the third bedroom, just down the hall from ours. “And this will be the baby’s room.”

  “Baby’s room?” A crease spreads across my forehead.

  “Don’t freak out. Not right now, but someday. Right? You want kids someday, right?” Butterflies begin flapping their wings in her stomach.

  I smile, lean down, and kiss her lips. “And I pray they get your good looks,” I whisper, before my lips graze her neck.

  “They? Two?”

  “Two is perfect.”

  “Wanna go back to the bedroom?” She tugs on my tie and bites her bottom lip

  “Providence. You’re trouble.” I shake my head and pull her into my chest.

  “Just kidding.” She giggles. “Sort of.”

  Sadly, instead of whisking Providence back to our new bedroom for an afternoon of something I shouldn’t even be thinking about, let alone doing, I head back to the office. I have too many questions for Luke before the night closes in. So, she stands at the front door with a pouty lip and waves.

  Bye.

  That’s the last thing I want her thinking today.

  * * * *

  Bits of the sun are streaming through the thin gray clouds in the western sky when Luke and I finally leave the office around seven. A band of thicker darker gray clouds are following behind threatening rain. I can smell moisture in the air. An occasional droplet hits my windshield as I drive back along the parkway to Providence and our new home.

  I close the sunroof and a familiar golden glow appears in the passenger seat. I continue to watch the road in front of me.

  “Gabriel.”

  “Change of plans, Alexander.” The tone of his voice sounds strange, eerie even. But I wait for him to continue.

  “You are not going tonight.”

  “What? Why not?” I can’t believe I asked it. I am grateful to have another night.

  “There is a…delay.”

  And that was his last word before vanishing.

  I pull into the only remaining space in our driveway. Providence must have already parked her car in the garage because I don’t see it, but Taylor’s BMW and Lily’s Integra are lined up. Well, Taylor’s is lined up. Lily’s is cockeyed and her bumper is hanging over the driveway into the street.

  Passing through the gate I can already hear the radio. When I open the front door, the music blares, and the aroma of pizza wafts around me. I loosen my tie, unbutton the top two buttons of my dress shirt, and hang my suit jacket on the railing. The girls are giggling and singing along with the music, and I hear bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor.

  I lean my shoulder against the hallway wall and watch them dance around, barefooted in their multicolored sundresses, oblivious to my presence. They wave their hands in an arc over their heads and bounce up and down. Open, half-filled pizza boxes sit on the floor along with Coke Zeros and a box of yellow, smiley-face cookies, and a partially unrolled roll of paper towels. A moist breeze blows in from the open sliding glass doors and rain drizzles on the decks.

  When Providence finally turns toward me, she’s laughing. Her beige eye shadow—the only kind of make-up she wears—shimmers from the track lighting, but I can tell from her puffy, still somewhat red eyes that she had been crying.

  “Zan,” she calls over the music.

  “Sweet Cheeks,” Lily yells, continuing to spin around Taylor. Providence glances over her shoulder, embarrassed.

  “Cute Butt, Lil’. Prov calls him Cute Butt,” Taylor corrects.

  I shake my head—the things women share with each other.

  Providence shuffles over and wraps her arms around my waist and tuc
ks her head against my chest. I pull back and smooth her hair back, leaving my thumbs to rest on her temples. “Little One, what’s wrong?”

  Panic strikes me. Why didn’t I hear her, why didn’t I feel this? Is this the cause for delay? She seems to be feeling fine now.

  “I just had a little panic attack after you left, that’s all.”

  “Providence, why didn’t you call me?”

  “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

  “Providence, you are my number-one priority. Never feel like that, ever!” I pull her into me and rest my chin on her head.

  “I called in my back-ups. I needed my girls anyway. They brought me pizza and cookies.”

  “And a stereo I see.”

  She giggles and twirls away from me, spinning back in slowly to the music. She gazes into my eyes, seeing only teal green.

  I told them you had to go away for a little while, for work. They are my best friends I couldn’t keep it from them.

  I kiss her forehead. “I understand. And earlier?”

  “After you left this afternoon, I was walking around the house and I just started panicking, I couldn’t breathe. Being in this huge house all alone, I started thinking about you leaving and I …” She sucks in a deep breath, her heart fluttering, and eyes watering.

  “I’m here now.”

  “I’m not going to stay here while you’re gone. I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Providence?” She tilts her head up to me. “Gabriel is delaying. I don’t know why or for how long, but I’m not leaving tonight.”