Angel Realms

by Malynn, Vivienne

  The creature looks menacingly at me. I want to run, but I can’t. I am chained here by my own fear. My heart races. The creature reels back like an animal readying to strike, but instead of leaping, it emits a ferocious roar that rattles through me, completely unnerving me. In that instant, I am sure of my death. Then I awaken in my bed to the sound of a lawn mower. Ethan must be working on the yard with my dad. One thought crosses my mind. The shed.

  Chapter 11

  I spring from my bed with no thought of what I am wearing and race down the stairs, around the corner and out the back door. All the while, thoughts race through my head of Jeff, or worse Justine, discovering a strange man in their shed. I think of possible excuses. He is a transient I found on the street. No one would believe that, looking at him. He is an ex-boyfriend come to stay. More believable, but would certainly buy me a one way ticket to Juve’. No it’s best to completely deny any relation to him. I don’t know where he came from. The nerve of some people. Of course, the next obvious question is how he got Jeff’s clothes. This too I would deny.

  I run down the stairs and through the kitchen. Justine is there reading a book. She is startled and quickly puts away her book, tucking it under the table. She begins to greet me, but I am already out the back door. As I step outside, I see that neither Jeff nor Ethan have entered the shed. I am relieved but only momentarily as I see Ethan crossing the lawn in its direction. No time to think, I have to cut him off. Running up beside him, I call out, “Ethan.” He stops and turns, presently excited to see me. However, that soon changes to a look of confusion as he sees me run up in my pajamas.

  “Umm. Hi, Kyra,” he says with a slight uncertainty. “How are you, this morning?”

  “I’m great,” I say, settling between him and the shed. I am out of breath from the burst of exertion. I lean over, placing my hands on my knees. “Just wanted to catch you before you left.”

  “We just got started,” Ethan says. He starts again for the shed, but I quickly cut him off.

  I try to think of anything to get a conversation going. “So what are you up to?”

  He looks at me curiously. “Right now, I’m helping Jeff with the yard. Remember, I told you I would be coming by to do that.”

  “Of course, silly me.” I am really blowing this, but how am I supposed to think when I just woke up and dashed out here. I’m light headed and not able to focus on anything intelligible. That is until I see a bright white bandage on Ethan’s tanned arm. “What happened to your arm?” I ask.

  Ethan pulls it back as if he expects me to touch it. “Cut it on a lawnmower blade.”

  “That sounds serious,” I say.

  “It’s not as bad as all that,” he says. “I should be fine.” He again makes an attempt toward the shed, only to be blocked in his path. He says nothing, but smiles and tries another angle. I again move in his path. This time he is not smiling. He tries again with no success. At this point he has obviously lost patience. “I don’t mean to be rude, I would love to spend time with you, but Jeff’s paying me by the hour.”

  Great, now what do I say. “What do you need out of the shed? I can get it for you.” He must think I am the neediest girl he’s met.

  “I’m good,” he says, shortly. “I can manage on my own.” He fakes one way, but darts the other, passing me by. Before I can turn around, Ethan has his hand on the handle to the door of the shed. “Stop!”

  He pauses and turns to me. “What is it now?” he asks in desperation, completely confused. “We can talk after I’m done working.” He steps back from the door. “Look, I’m sorry I’m a little grumpy. It was a hard night last night. I…” He hesitates to tell me more.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just…missed talking with you.”

  “How about this afternoon I’ll take you out somewhere? We can talk then?”

  Why does he have to be so nice? Most guys would have completely blown me off as the crazy girl by now, but not Ethan. He is patient. “I would love to,” I say.

  I hug him, holding tightly. Reluctant at first, he embraces me back. How long do I suppose I can keep him here? Sooner or later the hug will have to stop and he is going to open that door. And then what? Oh by the way, while you are being such a nice guy to me, I am stashing men in my foster parent’s shed. Still embracing him despite the fact that he is trying to pull away, I look over at the shed door to see Jeff opening it.

  “No,” I scream, letting go of Ethan. I race pass him, leaving him standing there with a look of pure astonishment. Grabbing Jeff by the shoulder, I rip him back.

  “What is it?” Jeff asks almost as if he is frightened by my antics. “Are you feeling alright?” He examines my eyes, apparently thinking I am on some sort of drugs.

  “I…umm…I saw spiders in there,” I say. “Yesterday, they were big…black. Black widows.”

  Jeff looks at the shed, dismayed. “I just had the bug man come out and spray. There shouldn’t be any spiders.”He takes off his hat and beats it across his knee. “They’re going to get a call from me. That’s for sure.” Pausing a moment in thought, he eventually asks, “Why were you in the shed?”

  “In the shed?” Now I’ve done it. I’ve talked my way into a lie that I can’t possibly get out of. Thinking like I have not thought before, I finally say the first thing that comes to mind. “Weeding.”

  “Weeding?”

  Might as well go with it. “Yes. I really want to weed. It’s how I think. Very relaxing.”

  He considers it for a moment. “Hmm. Well if you decide to do anymore thinking,” he says. “I have plenty of weeds along the garden plot that need to be pulled.” He laughs to himself, slightly, and then walks in the shed.

  My heart drops like an anchor sinking in the ocean. I can almost feel it as it hits the bottom. I am so dead. I watch as Ethan walks past, shaking his head, nearly laughing. They must both think I’m crazy or at least doing some pretty heavy substances. In either case, it will all become apparent in a moment when they find Ashur. I wait with nail biting anticipation. Then I hear Jeff.

  “Kyra,” he exclaims. “Come here.”

  I slowly walk to the entrance and to my inevitable doom. “I know what it looks like, but…”

  “Know what it looks like,” Jeff says. “It looks like you have just organized my entire shed.”

  Shocked I look around. The shed has been cleaned from top to bottom. Everything is neatly assorted and put away in its proper place. Even the dust has been swept away.

  “You polished the lawnmower,” Ethan says with disbelief.

  I shrug. “You know me. Love to clean. Love to weed. Very therapeutic.”

  Ethan has no idea what to say to me, he simply stands there and stares. Jeff, on the other hand, has no problem expressing himself. He gives me a big hug. “Just when I…” He pauses a moment, looking at me. His bottom lip scrunching as if he is about to cry. “I thought after last night that there were hard feelings between us, but then you go and do this. I’m sorry. I just…I want you to know that I do trust you. And anytime you want to go out with Liv or any other friends you go right ahead. Just no late nights, alright.”

  I nod my head. “Okay.”

  Jeff gives me another look over. There is a slight awkwardness in the moment as he realizes that I am in my pajamas. Eyeing Ethan, standing next to him, he says, “Maybe you should get some clothes on.”

  “Of course,” I say. “I was just a little excited.”

  “Fine,” Jeff says, holding his hand up. It seems he desires no explanation and so I go back in the house.

  After getting showered and dressed, I sit down to breakfast. Justine has made pancakes, no bacon. She has already eaten with Jeff and Ethan and so she sits down and watches me. My hunger overcomes the awkwardness of having someone stare at me while I eat. She smiles at me.

  I decide to try to clear the uneasiness of the moment by striking up a conversation. “These pancakes are great.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “I make them
the same way my mother taught me. Perhaps I can teach you sometime.”

  “That would be nice,” I say between bites.

  Justine sits for a minute as if to muster up the nerve to say something. Just as it seems she is going to explode, she says, “About Liv…”

  “It’s fine,” I interrupt, not wanting to get into it.

  “I want you to know that I think you’re right,” she says. “We do need to do something about it.” She nervously paws at the table cloth. “Jeff and I have decided to sit down with Roger and have a talk with him about the situation. Hopefully, he will agree to get help. If not, than we will talk to the State. Our hope is that maybe she can stay here with us for awhile. Just until Roger gets the help he needs.”

  I stop eating. Never have I had an adult listen to me. Mostly, they see me as someone who doesn’t know what they are talking about. The only sort of communication we ever have ends up in a shouting match and me being sent to another foster home. Jeff and Justine really are good parents. It’s a shame they can’t have children. It seems like a dark irony of God that the people who would make the greatest parents are unable to have them, while those who could care less, won’t stop.

  “Thank you,” I say. “It means a lot to me.”

  Justine perks her nose up, trying not to cry, but it’s no use. The tears come anyway. She gives a sagging grin out of the corners of her mouth. I lean over and put my arms around her. “You would have made a great mother,” I whisper to her.

  She places her hand on my arms and leans her head on mine. “You would have made a great daughter.” We sit in a satisfied silence as I finish my breakfast.

  Soon the doorbell rings, interrupting the moment, and we are awakened to the realization that there is a world outside of this. “I’ll get it,” Justine says, standing from the table. She disappears out of the kitchen and I hear her open the door. There is a conversation outside of my earshot, but soon she returns. “There is someone at the door,” she says to me. “He says he is a friend of yours and Liv’s. Says you met yesterday.”

  I nearly choke on my milk. Regaining my composure, I say, “Yes. We met him on the way to the cemetery.”

  Justine seems a little concerned.

  “He’s Liv’s cousin,” I say to reassure her.

  She thinks a moment. “I didn’t know Roger had any siblings.

  “Distant cousin,” I correct. “He’s Liv’s distant cousin. Like third, fourth…I don’t know.”

  “Oh,” Justine says with a shrug. “Well he looks pleasant enough.”

  I go to the door with Justine trailing behind me. Ashur is standing there with Jeff’s old clothes on. I can only hope that Justine doesn’t notice. Without waiting for a conversation between the two of them, I grab Ashur by the arm and drag him down the steps. He resists, trying to wave to Justine. “Thank you,” he says. “It was really very nice meeting you.”

  Justine blushes. “And you too,” she hollers back.

  When we get out of range of the house, I let go of his arm and turn to him. “What are you doing?”

  “I came to get you,” he says. “I promised you I would, and that we could talk.”

  “Yes, but not the front door,” I say.

  “Would you have preferred I came to the back door?” he asks.

  Normally, I would think this was sarcasm, but in his case I think he is serious. “No. I don’t want you to come to the back door. I would prefer you didn’t come to the house at all. Especially, wearing Jeff’s clothes. They are bound to ask questions that I can’t answer without being committed to an institution.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I did not mean to distress you. I just thought after our talk last night you would want me…”

  “I understand. I just don’t want you to come to the house.”

  “Of course, but how will I get a hold of you.”

  “Don’t you have some sort of Angel telepathy or something? Can’t you send a bird to tell me you want to see me? There has to be some way.”

  “I can’t speak to you in your mind when I am in this form. Just like I cannot tell what will happen to you. By entering the physical plane of this world, I am limited in what I can do. And I don’t know what you mean about sending a bird.”

  “Never mind, we just have to be more discrete,” I say. I look him over. “We really should get you some better clothes. And do something with that hair. You look like you belong on the cover of one of Justine’s cheap romance novels.”

  He runs his fingers along his hair as if offended. “What are cheap romance novels?”

  “Best you stay away from them,” I answer, putting my hand on his shoulder and leading him toward town center.

  I always keep a little cash with me that I’ve scraped together over the years. That way, if something happens and I have to run away from a foster home, I can. At least, that was the idea. I never did collect enough to completely leave, but enough to get things here and there. Living with little had taught me well the difference between what I needed and what I didn’t. This was a perfect example of a need. I couldn’t have Ashur seen in Jeff’s clothes and it probably won’t be long before Jeff begins to miss them.

  We find a clothing shop and step inside. As I expected, none of the styles are exactly up to date. But with a few minutes of perusing, I am able to cluster together the makings of a decent wardrobe. I pass them off to Ashur as I go. He follows without objection. When I am satisfied with the collection, I point him to the dressing room. “Alright, try them on.”

  He looks at the clothes and back at me. “I couldn’t ask you to get all this.”

  “I’m not getting all of them,” I say. “That’s just for you try on. You always try on ten outfits for every one you take. By my calculations, you have about three or four good outfits there.”

  “But…”

  “No buts,” I cut him off. “March in there and try them on.” I give him a little shove toward a vacant fitting room. He reluctantly steps inside. And I shut the door. “Don’t forget to let me see them on you,” I shout through the door.

  One by one, he dawns the outfits and dutifully walks out of the dressing room to show me. Of course, I have him twirl a few times in each one before making my comment. Reclined on one of the waiting couches, I give him thumbs up or thumbs down. Soon, the two lady clerks sit down next to me and give their assessments. There is an impulse in women that sparks at childhood while playing with dolls that makes this fun. It’s like having my own Abercrombie and Fitch model to dress. Only this one’s fully clothed and has less enthusiasm.

  He finally models the last of the outfits. And with an exasperated voice, says, “Now can we get to business.”

  I puff out my bottom lip. “You’re no fun.” Grabbing the two outfits that I like, I leap from the couch and head to the register. “There’s one more thing needed.” He shakes his head as he steps back in the dressing room. “Uh-uh. Keep that one on.” I turn to the clerk. “We’ll take these three.”

  The next stop is the Barbershop. From the look of the barber I can tell this is not going to be the most stylish cut. He is old with barely any hair of his own. He dips a comb in a jar of water and combs it over a few wisps of his hair that spread unevenly across the crown of his liver-spotted head. It’s like getting diet advice from a fat fitness instructor with a chili dog in his hand. It doesn’t instill very much confidence. But it will have to do.

  Ashur sits in the chair. The barber steps on the pedal a few times, pumping it to the right level. He throws a cape across him, tying it at the back and rotates Ashur to face the mirror. “What size?” he asks.