“You remember Roger?” you asked tentatively.
“Yes.”
Your eyes fixated on the space in front of you, where my spirit energy was densest.
“Did you…” You paused and seemed to summon your inner courage. I was glad for that. I was divine, after all. Youshouldbe wary of me. “Did you do that, Henri?”
“Do you believe I did that?” I’d admitted it to no one, and I didn’t intend to admit it to you.
There was a long moment of silence where I listened to your heartbeat drumming in your chest and the soft intake of breath ghosting across your lips. I couldn’t read your mind, but I could interpret your physical responses. Your body hummed with tension.
“I think you did.” Your voice dropped a register as if knowing the illicit nature of our conversation.
“Who do you think I am?” I asked. You were no longer a child but on the cusp of becoming a man. How would you interpret my nature?
Your eyes drifted to the ground and you said with a hopeful note, “My guardian angel?”
How I wished it were true.
When I didn’t answer, you asked, “Why did you go away?” Your voice tried to mask the pain of abandonment.
“I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t stay.” I didn’t want to get into angelic law with you or admit my past transgressions with humankind. When dealing with mortals, less information was safer for both of us.
“I missed you,” you said, exhaling your sorrow. Your eyes were closed, and your long lashes threw pointed shadows across the apples of your cheeks.
“I missed you too, Orlando.” A surge of longing swept through my spirit when I said your name. How could you affect me so deeply and so soon? I needed a moment to gather myself. “Tell me your problems.”
You bit down on your lower lip and sucked it behind your teeth. “There are these guys. They’re… not the best people. They’ve been… I don’t really want to go into it, but they live in the neighborhood, and they want me in their gang.”
“Do you want to be in their gang?” I hoped not. Gangs were dangerous. So many tragic, violent deaths.
“No, I don’t. I smoke pot and sometimes drink a little, but I don’t want to do drugs. Or deal them. I’m—” You stopped mid-sentence. Your halting way of speaking was unnerving me. So much emotion dammed up behind those soft brown eyes, threatening to spill out.
“You can tell me anything, remember? We’re friends.”
“I’m a ballet dancer. At least, I want to be. Professionally, I mean.” You lifted your head and looked so utterly vulnerable in that moment. I wanted to take you in my arms and pat the soft curls on your head, rub a soothing hand up and down your back, and give you the physical reassurance you seemed to crave.
“Are you any good at it?”
You chuckled.
“Yeah, I am,” you said, somewhat arrogantly, and dragged your hand across your mouth in a gesture that made me have impure thoughts.
“I can’t kill them.” Even though I could probably arrange it, I didn’t want you calling on me as your personal assassin. That wouldn’t end well for either of us.
“No, I don’t want that. Well, maybe I do but…” You pressed your lips together and started again. “Can you make me a better fighter?”
I wished that I could, but I didn’t have the power to bestow talent or knowledge on a human. There were other gods with that ability, but not me.
“No,” I said simply.
“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment. I didn’t want you to think me completely powerless. Because I wasn’t.
“I could watch over you. If you’ll allow me.”
Your brow crinkled. “Allow you?”
I tried to think of a way to explain so you wouldn’t ask too many questions. “I need your permission to be your guardian angel. Otherwise it’s just stalking.”
